THE NBA / MARK HEISLER : Riley, Jackson: Mutual Dislike

Phil doesn’t like Riles.

Riles isn’t crazy about Phil, either.

Bull Coach Phil Jackson, the former ‘60s love child, thinks Riles is an uptight, paranoid, win-at-any-costs barbarian in the style of, say, Richard Nixon.

Knick Coach Pat Riley thinks Phil is a bleating, unprofessional crybaby in the style of, say, Abbie Hoffman.

What would a Bull-Knick series be without feuds and skirmishes?

Charles Smith nudges Scottie Pippen with an elbow, whereupon Scottie goes after Charles in a surprise matchup of two guys you’d expect to find in the same peace demonstration sticking flowers in National Guardsmen’s rifles.

Greg Anthony, a smaller but harder case, decks Michael Jordan, who vows to return the favor the first chance he gets.

Anthony Mason runs into the Bulls’ bench chasing a play, kicks Corey Williams and assistant coach Jim Cleamons and exchanges curses with Cleamons and Jackson.

Bull General Manager Jerry Krause stages a scene with ex-Bull Charles Oakley, who has come to the Bulls’ hotel between games to have lunch with Pippen. Feigning anger over some Oakley comments, Krause tells him: “You’re not my son any more,” walks away and gives a Bull beat writer a knowing smile.

Oakley re-tells the story before Game 2, whereupon Krause sputters Oakley “forgets where he came from.” Oakley then gets 14 points and 16 rebounds, suggesting Krause hasn’t thrown him too far off his game.

This was just in the first two games of a series that has been “Swan Lake” compared to last season’s “Welcome to the Jungle.” So imagine the further possibilities.

These are teams playing different styles, requiring different interpretations of the rules from the officials. Besides, they’re in each others’ way and figure to stay that way for a while.

In this modern era of the NBA, rivalries sprout overnight, bitter as the decades-long Laker-Celtic wars or the 76er-Celtic wars or the Knick-Celtic wars or anyone else’s wars with the Celtics.

In this one, we have two intense coaches, each intent on using the heightened media coverage to his advantage.

No longer do these spin doctors simply answer questions to be polite or promote themselves for car deals. Now they have, as Riley would say if he were talking about someone else, an agenda .

Riley always has a message of the day. Generally, it’s some variant on one of two themes: the press was too hard on us after our loss yesterday, and I’m letting my players know I’m standing up for them; or the press overlooked some bad things in our victory, and I’m letting my players know I won’t let them get big heads.

Jackson has a single priority--getting the referees to restrain the physical Knicks.

If he has to vilify Riley, so be it.

“He’s a former player,” Jackson told Newsday’s Tim Layden, “and the style of play they carry is fraught with danger. This is a game in which former players should have respect for the careers of individuals. I can see people from outside the league bringing that type of style into the game. He should know better.

“In retrospect, I’ve come to understand that Pat is just doing what he has to do. He’s going to win at all costs. He’s driven to do that. That’s his motivation.

“Not only is it accepted and condoned, but it’s honored . He’s coach of the year.”

Jackson later explained it wasn’t personal, merely a clash of styles.

“I believe what we’re trying to do with this ballclub is genuine group dynamics,” Jackson said. “. . . He’s turned a group around, and he’s got group dynamics going in a whole different value system--hard work ethic, maybe a little us against them.

“Like, his players can’t talk to my players. His coaches can’t talk to my coaches. It’s kind of this exclusion. And it’s kind of an interesting phenomenon. That’s the difference in our styles. My style is open. I close my practices and he closes his,but my style is open. . . . And our differences in our system come about the same way: freedom with the basketball club, closed basketball team.”

Riley barely batted an eyelash, at first.

Two days into the series, however, he had plainly tired of being asked about Jackson’s latest remark.

“Well, you know something?” Riley told his daily media gathering. “That’s for you to decide.

“That isn’t for you to be, I think, a special delivery carrier of his messages to me and to have a comment from me. I think when somebody begins to make personal attacks on people, then that’s up to you to decide whether or not it’s valid.

“You know, I don’t give a damn. (Laughing) I probably am all those things, so . . . I don’t know.”

Presumably, Riley won’t mind if reporters continue to be a special delivery carrier of his messages to Jackson.

The irony is, despite their disparate circumstances and experiences, they have similar drives, problems and responses. If Riley had been born a minister’s son in North Dakota, he might have become Phil Jackson. If Jackson had come up blue collar in Upstate New York, he might have become Pat Riley.

Maybe some day they’ll do a commercial together, as Magic Johnson and Larry Bird did, and discover the ties that bind them and become friends.

Don’t look for it until after this week, though, or this month, year or century.

FACES AND FIGURES

Lottery shakeout, first version: 1--Magic, Chris Webber; 2--76ers, Shawn Bradley; 3--Warriors, Jamaal Mashburn; 4--Mavericks, Anfernee Hardaway. . . . The wild card is Golden State, where, depending on what version you hear, Don Nelson is prepared to send Sarunas Marciulionis, Billy Owens or Chris Mullin to Orlando for a swap of their picks. The Warriors need a center badly, they don’t ever figure to be in better position to go for one and Nelly, once everyone’s darling in the Bay Area, is under increasing fire, inside and outside the organization.

Meanwhile, the Magic has a world of salary-cap trouble to find the $3 million a year or so it’ll cost to sign Webber. The team had to restructure four contracts a year ago to sign Shaquille O’Neal and may have to try to dump Dennis Scott, their three-point ace who is pudgy, slow, often injured, one-dimensional and will make $2.8 million. Problem: finding a taker. Said one lottery GM: “I wouldn’t touch him.”

Journalism highlight of the Eastern Conference finals: A drunk fan sneaked into the press room, sat down in the first row and started asking questions. He asked John Starks if it was “Starks 2-0 over Michael Jordan” and Starks explained that this was only a contest of teams. He asked Pat Riley if he thought he had out-coached Phil Jackson. “Next question,” said Riley. The actual reporters never realized the fan was an interloper, perhaps assuming he was a TV guy from New York.

The Akron Beacon-Journal reports there’s only one candidate for the Cavaliers’ coaching job: Cotton Fitzsimmons. . . . Lenny Wilkens’ assistant, Brian Winters, was told by GM Wayne Embry he’s not a candidate for the top spot. “He said they were looking (for someone) with head coaching experience,” Winters said, “someone who’s won, someone with a big name.”