ANALYSIS : Even the Best NBA Coaches Don’t Endure

Pat Riley coached the Lakers for nine seasons. These days, in the NBA, that’s an eternity. Coaching tenures last about as long as car batteries--about four years.

Longer than that, and the act grows stale. Players tend to lose interest in the same motivational tactics over 82 games and, for some teams, six weeks of playoffs. As Larry Bird once said about Bill Fitch--or was it K.C. Jones or Jimmy Rodgers--”all coaches wear thin.”

Given that, perhaps Riley should be commended, not condemned, for tapping all sources to somehow keep the Laker assemblage of stars and jaded veterans motivated before the mutinous feelings take hold.

The NBA is a players’ league. Players and coaches say it all the time. Before submitting his resignation, Riley was the coach with the second-longest tenure with the same team. That Riley lasted nine seasons might be more impressive an accomplishment than his NBA-record 73.3% winning record or his 102 playoff coaching victories, also a record.

Doug Moe has coached the Denver Nuggets for 10 seasons, and he reportedly is being forced out by majority owner Robert Wussler because Moe no longer can relate to the players. Moe, as did Riley, recently interviewed for a job as an NBC analyst.

It’s no coincidence.

Two days after the Lakers were eliminated from the playoffs, Riley noted the irony that he once was applauded as a motivational wizard for times he raised his voice to players. “Now,” he said, “it leads to player grumbling.”

One of Riley’s strengths has been motivation. A lot of coaches are capable tacticians, but Riley tried different ways to reach veterans such as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Magic Johnson and Michael Cooper.

He spliced together tape of game action with rock music. He sent late-summer letters to each player, detailing individual goals. He thought up seasonal themes, such as “no rebounds, no rings,” “the guarantee,” “the career best year.” He gave his share of effective speeches. Even the most jaded Laker player acknowledged that Riley’s “plant your feet, make a stand, and kick some ass” speech before Game 2 of the 1985 NBA finals was stirring.

But the same script can grow tiresome. By this season, many Laker players privately considered Riley’s speeches, quarterly report cards, summer letters and catch-phrases predictable and ineffective.

“Those letters he sends out in August are tossed right into the garbage,” a member of Laker management reportedly told Gentleman’s Quarterly.

Riley’s relationship with Jerry West, the Lakers’ general manager, also deteriorated. The two had co-existed for a good part of the ‘80s with differing philosophies about running the team. West is an astute judge of talent and a perfectionist by disposition; Riley also had his own strong beliefs.

The last two seasons, the relationship had run its course and the two often clashed. Publicly, they maintained the appearance of solidarity.

Riley might have been too good for his own good. Or perhaps simply too popular. As a general rule, coaches do not have nearly the star value as players in the NBA. In college basketball, the opposite is true. On the Lakers’ name-recognition list, Riley rated a close second to Johnson. And Riley’s endorsement portfolio was as healthy as Johnson’s.

Riley, of course, is not blameless. He is driven to the point of compulsion.

A popular story told of Riley: In 1984, the Lakers walked into the Boston Garden for an early shoot-around, and Riley noticed a large container of water on a courtside table. Dave Wohl, then a Laker assistant, told Riley it was water left for them by the Celtics. Riley yelled at trainer Gary Vitti to wash out the container, then refill it. “Who knows what the Celtics might have put in there to make us sick?” Riley reportedly said.

Riley’s practices were known for being rigorous but, again, not as taxing as some have portrayed. This season, Riley routinely gave Johnson, James Worthy and Mychal Thompson--veterans with nagging, lingering injuries--practices off the day after games. Byron Scott was held out of many practices to nurse his injured left hamstring.

But Riley reportedly lost what remained of his popularity among the players when he rode them hard in practices for three consecutive days before the start of the playoffs.

There is irony here, too. During that same time, the Lakers were fined $25,000 by the league for Riley’s decision to hold out Johnson, Worthy and Thompson from the final regular season game in Portland.

Riley may have been guilty of not responding to the players’ wants and needs.

An example was Riley’s decision to take the team to a Santa Barbara retreat during an eight-day break before the start of the last season’s NBA finals against Detroit. The players wanted to stay in Los Angeles with their families, but Riley wanted a “training camp” atmosphere away from most of the media so they could “bond” heading into the finals. Riley held rigorous practices daily, and even sneaked in an intra-squad game replete with referees and fans.

The result? First Scott, then Johnson suffered hamstring injuries.

Privately, players blamed Riley for overtraining them. Not so privately, Abdul-Jabbar wrote in his latest book of the Santa Barbara trip: “Riley thinks he’s doing the team a favor by getting us up here away from distractions at home. . . . For me, being away from home is the distraction; it’s a sacrifice to be up here. . . . I never thought this was the wisest idea for the team (because of threat of injury).”

This season, a few days before the playoffs were to start, Riley acknowledged that the Santa Barbara trip was a mistake.

But Riley never had the chance to atone for it. The Lakers are looking at a layoff until training camp in October.

But there was a bigger reason that Riley could no longer relate to the players. They had heard it all before. They had tuned him out.

So, like a radio station that changes formats to attract listeners, the Lakers soon will have a new coach, Mike Dunleavy.

If Dunleavy can last nine seasons in the same job, as Riley did, he will be the exception to what has become the rule among NBA coaches. For all of his reported faults, Riley proved exceptional.