THE NBA / MARK HEISLER : East Extends Its Dominance, With No End in Sight

Wanted: Western contender.

Must have someone who can stand up to Michael Jordan.

Don’t apply if all you have to offer is Clyde Drexler. It’s already been tried.

Must have another defender capable of striking terror in Scottie Pippen’s heart.

This is no longer a cinch, either, since Scottie proved he could rumble with Pat Riley’s Seventh Avenue Gang.

By next weekend, the East will have won five championships in a row. West teams are 5-18 in the finals in that time, losing 12 of 13 games on their home floors.

Eastern teams tend to play better defense, which rules in postseason. The West has been influenced by the wide-open Don Nelson-George Karl-Paul Westphal game, which is entertaining but doesn’t make it in the playoffs.

When Riley moved east, the balance of power swung. Riley’s Lakers were the NBA’s hardest workers, as are his Knicks.

The Suns are more relaxed, with frequent days off--if the league holds a golf tournament, take the Suns--and a more casual approach in general. During the West finals, Karl joked the laid-back Westphal “looks like he’s coaching in summer league.”

If you go into most dressing rooms 90 minutes before games, you will find videotape of the opponent on the big-screen TV. If you go into the Suns’ room, you will find no Charles Barkley--he arrives an hour before tipoff--and the rest of the team watching MTV or cartoons.

Of course, it’s always darkest before the dawn--except that it might not be here yet.

The East has the NBA’s two best teams, the Bulls and Knicks. It has the league’s two rising powers, the Hornets and Magic.

The Bulls will add a significant player next season, Toni Kukoc. This will force the Knicks, Cavaliers and the rest of the East to gear up.

The West has the stumpy Suns and a bunch of question marks.

Like Dorothy’s friends in the Wizard of Oz, there’s something missing in each: a heart, a brain, an attitude.

The Suns need a 7-footer who can defend. Look for them to again pursue Dennis Rodman, who is only 6-7 but available.

The SuperSonics need Shawn Kemp to take over. He is 24 and it isn’t natural for him.

The Rockets are the West’s sleeping giants, but they have dozed for years. An alarm clock and a new backcourt would come in handy.

The Spurs need an attitude adjustment and a point guard.

The Trail Blazers, like Scarecrow, could use a brain.

The Jazz could use the fountain of youth and another play to run on offense besides Karl Malone’s.

The Clippers need to progress rather than regress. They just got here, and already they are threatening to leave.

The Lakers need a ride in a time machine. Barring that, several lottery finishes.

The Warriors need Shawn Bradley. If Nelson pulls it off, the race is on again.

Since all of the above is so difficult, how about merging the teams?

The Northwest Blazer/Sonics: Kemp, Cliff Robinson, Sam Perkins, Drexler and Rod Strickland.

The California Laker/Clipper/Warriors: Danny Manning, Chris Mullin, Vlade Divac, Tim Hardaway and Mark Jackson.

The Southwest Sun/Spurs: Barkley, Sean Elliott, David Robinson, Kevin Johnson and Dan Majerle.

The Western Jazz/Rockets: Karl Malone, Otis Thorpe, Hakeem Olajuwon, John Stockton and Jeff Malone.

OK, now we’re ready.

NEW YORK LULLABY

No season is complete until Charles Oakley gives his annual state-of-the-franchise diatribe.

Shortly after the Knicks’ season ended, he did it again, shattering Pat Riley’s painstakingly forged harmony with a long, angry complaint about his role, lack of appreciation, future and teammates.

He said he was upset by his reduced time in Game 6 against the Bulls.

Maybe it was coincidence, but he had just learned of Charles Smith’s new $3.8-million-a-year deal, which is twice the size of Oakley’s.

“I don’t know if I’ll be here next year,” Oakley said. “I want to play more, but I’m not going to kiss no one’s butt.

“Ain’t no problem, me being in there, hurting my team by taking a crazy jump shot.”

Hello, John Starks.

“The second half of the season, I really fulfilled my role, making big plays down the stretch, keeping the ball alive. And a lot of times when I was in there, I was under the boards by myself. We’ve got three big men and I’m doing all the dirty work. That . . . wears out sooner or later.”

Hello, Patrick Ewing, Anthony Mason and Smith.

Riley is a believer in the team-as-family and was casting about for ways to close the gap on his new obsession, the Bulls.

Figure it this way: If Oakley returns, it will be because no one would give the Knicks a decent point guard for him.

“If that was something he was carrying all year, that’s not the spirit you go against the Chicago Bulls with,” Riley said. “You’ve got to be totally pure and right.

“Oak, I think, simply had a great, great year for us, but there has to be honor in your sacrifice.”

WHERE HAVE YOU GONE, J. WALTER KENNEDY?

This used to be such a nice little league.

Everyone got along. Everyone knew one another. Everyone liked one another except for Red Auerbach.

Everyone, even the lordly Celtics, grubbed out a meager existence and dreamed of better times. The league was a cult phenomenon, not remotely ready for prime time. As late as 1980, when Magic Johnson played center and disposed of the 76ers, CBS showed it nationally on tape-delay at 11:30 p.m.

“Our goal,” Commissioner David Stern said, “was to get through the day. Then we expanded it to the week.”

Better times have arrived with a vengeance.

The NBA, marvelously run, even if it does say so itself, is the model in modern sports administration with booming TV ratings, guaranteed profits and an international profile that makes it a global power. The NFL copies its salary cap. The NHL gets its commissioner from Stern’s staff.

NBA stars are the heavy lifters in American merchandising. In the ‘70s, Julius Erving had two endorsement deals: Converse and Chapstick. Today, Jordan makes $4 million from the Bulls annually, $31.9 from a cross-section of the economy: Nike, McDonald’s, Coke, Gatorade, Wheaties, Hanes, etc.

It shouldn’t be surprising innocence has fled, symbolized by no one more than Mike.

The NBA renaissance was built on smooth press relations and the graciousness of its superstars, but now Jordan recoils from the minicam-toting paparazzi and dreams--in nationally televised spots--of being left alone to play ball.

Nike, which seems content to let its stars broadcast any message they choose as long as it can flash “Just do it” afterward, lets Charles Barkley brag he isn’t a role model for your kids. (Of course, he’s right, your kids are your responsibility. However, Barkley has a daughter of his own, so he isn’t completely off the hook.)

Adoration so uncritical even baffles the old-timers.

“Charles is saying, ‘Don’t be like me, but buy my shoes,’ ” Erving says. “That’s a contradiction, but Charles is a contradiction.”

Hoping to put a wrap on the Jordan gambling story last week, Stern held a news conference, all but hurling his body between his No. 1 asset and reporters. Stern called the coverage of the Richard Esquinas story by NBC--which bankrolls his league to the tune of $150 million per year--”undeserved,” and noted the New York Times’ reliance on unidentified sources in the Atlantic City story. He called the problem of media scrutiny “bedeviling,” though he added the league wants as much as it can get.

Your elite NBA team now has its own practice facility. The Bulls drop a curtain over the press-room windows overlooking the court when the team is on it. Even the Raiders, pioneers in paranoia, let local writers watch practice.

It’s almost enough to make you nostalgic for Auerbach--but not quite.

GOLDFISH IN THE SHARK TANK OF LIFE

Turns out Magic Johnson was only part of the reason the Clippers lost Lenny Wilkens.

When he signed in Atlanta, Wilkens said it was the Clippers’ inability to negotiate over the Memorial Day weekend that first turned him off.

Wilkens first committed orally to the Clippers. However, no one in the front office was authorized to finalize the deal in the absence of Donald T. Sterling, who was out of town.

While the Clippers vacationed, the Hawks climbed all over Wilkens--during the weekend.

Hawk President Stan Kasten and General Manager Pete Babcock flew to Cleveland and offered him a $6.5-million, five-year deal, the top coaching salary in the game.

Unlike the Clipper executives, they were authorized to act.

Sayonara, Lenny.