THE NBA / MARK HEISLER : Holy Power Trip, Patman! Riley Gets Out of Gotham

He came, he saw, he conquered, he wore everyone out, he left, he’s going. . . . Where?

In other words, it was a standard tour of duty for Pat Riley, who took the Knicks to heights they’d only heard about in a generation, held New York in the palm of his hand, flamed out spectacularly and left suddenly. Wham, bam, thank you Gotham.

Riley’s plans are unknown and may involve nothing more than kicking back on the beach for a year--or the rest of his life.

It’s easier to figure out where the Knicks are going: to heck in a handbasket.

When Riley arrived, Patrick Ewing was 29 and in his prime and the starting lineup averaged 27 years of age. Ewing turns 33 this summer, and the next coach won’t have a returning starter under 30.

In denial, with a new corporate boss to impress, the Knicks vow to fight on with the same geriatrics and state-of-the-art ticket prices. President Dave Checketts babbles about “this storied franchise . . . playing on the greatest stage in the world in Madison Square Garden before the best fans in America,” adding, “I am not going to beg anybody to coach this team.”

At this early stage, he had better not preclude begging.

As difficult as Riley was, the record shows he’s one of the few great coaches. Only another ace could hope to match even last season’s diminished accomplishments-- 55 victories, out in the second round of the playoffs.

Moreover, the few available aces--the Knicks don’t want a college coach so they’re down to Chuck Daly and Don Nelson--might realize what a coach-killer this job is.

Said Daly recently: “I think there are five or seven coaching jobs that are different from the others . . . Notre Dame football, Montreal hockey and New York Knicks basketball.

“Trying to replace a legend would be of astronomical difficulty. One, the guy [Riley] can really coach. Two, he’s an entertainment-media icon, in some ways the MVP of that team. I don’t know if there’s a person out there with those kind of qualifications.”

Of course, Daly, who grew up poor and happened late, loves money, and Nelson is getting itchy in Maui, but if they know what’s good for them, they’ll give this one a pass.

If they’re in doubt, let them check out the tabloids, which drooled hate after Riley left.

On the back page of the New York Post, there was:

THE QUITTER GUTLESS RILEY GIVES UP ON NEW YORK

An inside headline added:

GUTLESS RILEY LEAVES NEW YORK WITH NO RINGS AND NO CLASS

Meanwhile, the New York Daily News, relatively lucid, went with:

POWER TRIPPED

Knick fans may or may not be “the greatest in the world,” but they’re definitely the angriest in the New World. They might have their hands full in an English soccer riot, but as far as the United States goes, they’re tough enough.

Throw in overheated talk radio and the rabid tabs, and a sane man has to ask himself, “Why exactly would I want to lower myself into this cross-fire?”

By this standard, walking may be a sign of personal growth on Riley’s part.

A world-class compulsive, he must have been scared to leave and even more scared to think this might be it for him on the sideline.

There are few Riley-style jobs, teams just waiting to be organized into elite status in media centers.

Talk radio has him going to Orlando in a year, but that’s not the easy fit people assume it is. Riley is a ‘50s-style authoritarian; the Magic has ‘90s-style youngsters who muttered about mild- mannered Brian Hill.

Riley arrived in New York, unrepentant about his Laker exit, which suggested he had learned nothing from it. Hurt by suggestions that players had tired of him, he once said, “They changed. I didn’t change.”

Four years later, Riley was being accused of making injured Knicks play, of being a control freak on an ego trip who, according to an unnamed Knick in the Post, “thinks he’s deeper than every person on earth.”

Riley angrily denied playing injured players but added, “The other stuff? Hey, it might be right.”

If you wear everybody out once, maybe it was an accident. If it happens twice, it’s probably not a coincidence.

Maybe he’s not supposed to coach into his 60s. Maybe he can rediscover the old Riley who used to shake his head at the scarred warhorses and insist he wasn’t a lifer.

Anyway, it was just like his Laker era. In New York now, as in Los Angeles, they’ll never forget him.

RING, RING, RING! IT’S THE DONALD!

Here’s one you can count on: There will be some sort of Clipper-Riley dialogue.

It won’t be that talk-show blue-plate special, that Riley is trying to put together a group to buy the team. He could round up all the oil sheiks in Arabia, but Donald T. Sterling isn’t selling.

Of course, the Donald would love to hire Riley in whatever capacity. In each of the last two springs, the Clippers are believed to have contacted Riley.

Two years ago, they even announced they had asked the Knicks for permission to talk to him. Perplexed Knick officials said they’d never heard a word about it.

Somewhere in there, a friend of Riley says that word was passed back that Riley might be interested--for 25% of the franchise.

Would Sterling give it up?

He says he has never sold a piece of property in his real estate career. He’d presumably feel even worse about giving away a chunk of a $75-million asset.

On the other hand, Riley is a star. Sterling loves stars. If Riley needed 10% ownership to become general manager, that would be $7.5 million worth.

Riley’s presence would give the Clippers something they have never had--credibility. He’d have the power to put in something else they have never had--a chain of command.

A smooth-running NBA franchise in Los Angeles should be worth $150 million, which would make Sterling’s 75% worth $112.5 mil, or a darn sight more than his 100% is today.

Riley might come too. He loves the West Coast and still spends summers at his home in Malibu. Even in New York, he kept his watch on West Coast time (honest), and it might be less confusing to eat lunch when the little hand is on 12 instead of 9.

As always, Sterling is the question.

FACES AND FIGURES

Some of the players left unprotected for the expansion draft include last spring’s No. 1 picks Yinka Dare of the New Jersey Nets and B.J. Tyler of the Philadelphia 76ers; former Clippers Benoit (born for expansion) Benjamin, Dominique Wilkins, Danny Ferry and Ron Harper; Dallas outcast Roy Tarpley, Bull starting point guard B.J. Armstrong (General Manager Jerry Krause refuses to comment), Detroit fat person Oliver Miller, Warrior softy Victor Alexander, lost SuperSonic Sarunas Marciulionis, lost Heater John Salley, aging King Lionel Simmons, shoot-first-ask-

questions-later Bullet Rex Chapman, superfluous Knick Greg Anthony and unused Knick Doug Christie. Bet you can’t wait until the Vancouver Grizzlies and Toronto Raptors get here next season.

Barefoot heights from the Chicago pre-draft camp showed prep star Kevin Garnett at 6 feet 11, meaning he’s sure to grow into a 7-footer. Cherokee Parks is 6-10 1/4, Antonio McDyess 6-9, Ed O’Bannon 6-8. . . . Michigan State’s Shawn Respert, supposedly a Joe Dumars-type shooting guard who had been listed at 6-3, came in at 6-0 3/4. There are no 6-0 3/4 shooting guards starting in the NBA.

As a last tribute to this season’s champions, here’s Mario Elie, the journeyman who made the three-pointer that put Game 7 away against Phoenix, on blowing kisses to the Suns’ Joe Kleine and the whole incredible Rockets’ roll: “I hit a couple threes to put Game 6 away and [Kleine] was frustrated on the side. I blew a three-point kiss to him and all he said on the sideline was, ‘Game 7.’ We played Game 7 and it was the third quarter. They were beating us by 10, I think, and he looked at me on the bench and blew me a kiss and we both started laughing. I think I got the last laugh when I hit that three-pointer. I looked at him, he just dropped his head and I blew the kiss and the game was over. . . . After that game, our confidence level was just sky high. Guys were like, ‘Wow! We made it back to the Western Conference finals!’ ”