GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL

The good news for the Knicks is that, after their little misunderstanding, or civil war, Madison Square Garden President Dave Checketts and Coach Jeff Van Gundy may kiss and make up.

Like, what else can they do?

Checketts’ heartthrob, Phil Jackson, is off the market. Van Gundy has nowhere else to go, as his lawyer, Robert Ades, recently noted, except “Cleveland and Fordham.”

Of course, Checketts and Van Gundy may simply shake hands and skip the embrace since they still seem to have issues. As do Van Gundy and Checketts’ new players. As do the sportswriters who are close to one or the other of them.

Even for the Garden, the self-anointed “world’s most famous arena,” not to mention one of its leading snake pits, this is some weird time. If they’re living a fairy tale, it’s one of those modern treatments, in which the Cinderella Knicks make a miraculous run and capture the heart of a cold, cold city while splitting their own organization and, for good measure, sundering the local press corps too.

Even as the Knicks roar down the stretch, the big hitter in town, the New York Daily News’ Mike Lupica (presumed Checketts guy who called the Garden boss “a guy I like a lot”) still sometimes refers to Van Gundy, who’s now a local folk hero, as “Jeff (of Arc).”

The Post’s influential Peter Vecsey (presumed close to deposed general manager Ernie Grunfeld) has called Van Gundy “Treacherous Jeff.”

Meanwhile, the Post’s Wallace Matthews (unaffiliated) denounced Checketts as the Garden’s “top snake,” and the writers representing his viewpoint as “shills” and “toadies.”

Thus, almost, has it always been in the Garden, shining jewel of the Manhattan night, capital of the world’s greatest sports empire. This isn’t merely a building, it’s a state of mind, pure capitalism in action for better and/or worse, the field upon which 100 wars have been waged. Feuds R Us.

How could it be otherwise?

Ticket prices are sky high, as are profits and expectations. The last time the place was sold, it fetched $1 billion. The Knicks take in $1.3 million at the gate every time they play, and Spike Lee coughs up $1,350 to sit courtside ($2,700 in the playoffs.) They probably gross more than $150 million a season--and it’s small potatoes next to the Garden’s real moneymaker, MSG Network, which televises not only the Knicks and Rangers but the Yankees, Mets, Devils, Islanders and Nets.

Only corporations can afford this prestige buy, Paramount giving way to ITT Sheraton to Viacom to Cablevision--just in the ‘90s. The new owner is usually “leveraged” (meaning it borrowed a lot and has to keep milking the cash cow), so the “suits” (local tabloid term for the corporate executives) are pressuring the Garden officials.

With ownership in flux, the Garden execs were probably hired by someone else and are automatically under the gun. Thus begins the deadly process wherein everyone is fighting for survival every day and ducking the blame for anything that goes wrong, which means it must go somewhere else.

To an old friend? A trusted ally? The Garden’s history is replete with power struggles--General Manager Dave DeBusschere vs. Coach Hubie Brown, GM Al Bianchi vs. Coach Rick Pitino--and in many, the rivals were good friends, like the granddaddy of them all, Checketts vs. Pat Riley.

A feverish tabloid press keeps score. The winners lead heady lives, surrounded by celebrities, CEOs and stretch limos; the losers leave feet first. A starry-eyed young man’s ambition--and which of them is without that, these jobs don’t go to the Boy Scout with the most merit badges--is dangerous, because it leads him into impossible dilemmas.

“I’ve said many times, there are days when it’s a lot better to say you’re president of Madison Square Garden than to actually be president of Madison Square Garden,” says Bob Gutkowski, who was eased out when Checketts moved up. “It’s a fishbowl existence, no doubt about it, and loyalties run kind of thin. . . .

“I think one of the biggest aspects of it is ego. You have an ego and then it’s magnified by the fishbowl existence and then it collides with other egos. The Garden is packed full of jealousy--this team, that team, the network, his name was in the paper, my name’s not in the paper. . . .

“There have always been behind-the-scenes machinations at Madison Square Garden, and I think there always will be. It’s just kind of the sense of the building.”

It’s a great place to watch a game, but working there? Forget the number. They should put a sign up on the door to the executive offices: Beware, all ye who enter here.

Dave and Ernie: Buddies No More

One’s first impression of Checketts is, wow.

Tall, handsome, tanned, apple-cheeked, wavy-haired, charming, well-spoken, devoted family man and devout Mormon, he was running the Garden when he was still in his 30s and still projects the aura of Someone Ticketed for Even Bigger Things.

Maybe he’ll be commissioner of some league, or put together a bunch of money men and buy the Garden, himself. A native of Utah, there was once speculation he’d go back to Salt Lake City and head the Olympic Committee for the 2002 Winter Games. Whatever it is, it’ll be big.

Checketts worked briefly for the Utah Jazz, then became one of David Stern’s bright young men at league headquarters before sliding over to rescue the Knicks, coming out of their awful ‘80s. The first thing he did was hire Riley, and you know how that turned out: Heady days that almost led to a championship, followed by a cataclysmic split. Riley is now in Miami and is to Checketts what the cobra is to the mongoose.

Riley was caught with his finger in the cookie jar, responding to Miami owner Mickey Arison’s overtures while still Knick coach. This was very embarrassing, even if it happens a lot. Then he faxed in his resignation and went from Riles I to Pat the Rat in Gotham overnight.

The Garden was then being sold to Viacom, which in turn would sell it to ITT Sheraton and Cablevision. Checketts moved up from head of the Knicks to head of the Garden, reportedly assuring his new bosses he could keep the profits flowing.

Of course, the Knicks were aging, which put them at a crossroads. When Checketts first arrived, he used to tell fiends that when Patrick Ewing’s contract ran out, they’d break the team up. By 1997 when Patrick, then 33, was free, everything had changed. Checketts and his new Knick general manager, Grunfeld, had made big commitments to Allan Houston and Chris Childs and taken on $84 million worth of Larry Johnson, trying to patch the team on the fly.

One thing you had to give Dave and Ernie--that was what people always called them--they were always thinking. Just when you thought they were out of moves, they’d come up with something else, even if it meant taking the overpriced Johnson . . . or Latrell Sprewell and Marcus Camby?

Having sunk to 43-39 last season with an old roster, Dave and Ernie had decided they had to get younger and more athletic--while staying competitive, a neat trick. Unfortunately, they had to trade their unsung MVP, Charles Oakley, whom Van Gundy and Ewing mourned as if he were Michael Jordan. Camby, working out at the place Ewing did during the lockout, said Patrick never acknowledged his presence until it was time to go to camp.

The Van Gundy-Grunfeld struggle was on. Van Gundy didn’t start Sprewell and didn’t even play Camby. The team struggled. Vecsey once reported the Knicks had to beat Charlotte the next night or the coach was gone.

However, Ewing vowed he’d never play for anyone but Van Gundy, and suddenly the heat shifted to Grunfeld, who had given role players like Chris Dudley and Charlie Ward $20-million deals and was technically on the hook for Sprewell and Camby, even if Checketts was part of the decision-making process.

Not that Knick fans were salivating over the prospect of someone going, but noted screenwriter William Goldman wrote a letter to the Daily News, ripping the beat writers who supported Van Gundy (“Sad Sack”), one by one.

In that tumultuous atmosphere, Checketts asked Grunfeld to dinner at a restaurant called Gregory’s in suburban White Plains.

Grunfeld said later it never occurred to him he was in trouble. He thought Checketts had his back. Their families were close. They had barbecues together. Their kids played with each other.

They ate their salads. They had their entrees. They talked about the team, as they always did. They were on dessert when, as the Westchester (N.Y.) Journal News’ Ian O’Connor put it, Checketts “announced Grunfeld was the main course for the evening.”

The conversation, as reconstructed by O’Connor, went this way:

Checketts: “Ernie, I’m sorry but I have to let you go.”

Grunfeld: “Yeah, right, Dave.”

Checketts: ‘No, I’m serious Ernie.”

Easy come, easy go.

Dave and Jeff: Alone Together

There’s no other city like New York. I love it here. I love the way people support you when you win, but there’s the other side to that. And that other side is a very vicious side. I mean, if you’re losing, they’re really vicious.

I mean, I was in Boston when we were rebuilding, and there was a certain amount of sympathy for the situation and the conditions. There’s none here. There’s none here at all.”

--Knick assistant Don Chaney

Oh, really?

Here’s another surprise. Chucking Grunfeld overboard didn’t turn the Knicks around.

Here’s the real surprise. Something else did, even if no one noticed until they got into the playoffs and defeated Riley’s Heat, taking Game 5 in Miami when Houston bounced in the series-winner off the front of the rim.

(Here’s how close it came to not happening. Moments before, with Miami leading by a point, time running out and Sprewell dribbling aimlessly far out on the floor, Terry Porter reached in and flicked the ball away, giving the Knicks a chance to set up for a last in-bounds play for Houston.)

While they romped over the Hawks in the second round, the story broke that Checketts had contacted Jackson, which was very embarrassing, even if it happens a lot. Checketts denied it, to Van Gundy, Knick staffers and the press, then finally had to concede he’d lied. This also happens sometimes.

What never happens, however, is this combination of circumstances: Knicks slumping, Checketts firing Grunfeld, Knicks going nowhere, Checketts meeting Jackson, Knicks starting their postseason run, the Checketts-Jackson story breaking in the New York papers, Ewing going down, Johnson beating the Pacers with a game-ending four-point play, the Knicks taking Game 5 in Indiana and Game 6 without Johnson, then knocking the Spurs off their roll in the finals.

No, this is one we’ve never seen before, in any sport at any time.

Van Gundy is a coach’s son who knows the deal, having seen his father fired at Brockport (N.Y.) State, when Jeff was the point guard there. He may seem twerpy (“I look like an IRS guy, but I know this, the people who write about me and say I look bad, look worse than I do half the time”), but he’s a smart guy, a savvy maneuverer, and a tough cookie who was trained by and revered Riley.

Van Gundy now conceals his emotions, although sometimes he slips. After the Game 1 upset of the Pacers, when the Checketts writers were still musing about Van Gundy’s firing, ESPN’s David Aldridge, sitting courtside, said Van Gundy yelled, “I ain’t going nowhere just yet!”

Said Van Gundy on Tuesday: “Well, I would say some of the stuff is greatly exaggerated. It’s been repeated so much and then slightly exaggerated. It’s like what you tell someone and then you have them go around the circle and then, by the time it gets back to the first person, it’s not even close to what was originally said. . . .

“As far as myself, the good part is, I’ve been able just to keep the focus on the team. And I’ve really got good guys to coach. I think the quality of guys you have to coach in the league is critical to getting through tough times. And we’re fortunate, we have good guys.”

Or maybe it wasn’t so exaggerated.

“I started off [coaching] with the Clippers, which was a wild year,” says Chaney, “but it’s been very wild here. It’s been very difficult for coaches here, with second-guessing and your job in jeopardy and a lot of outside disturbances. It’s been very, very rough. And I thought Jeff handled that very, very well. A lot of people would have crumbled under the circumstances. . . .

“He doesn’t worry about it. He pretends, maybe, that he doesn’t worry about it. But it gets to him. He’s human. It gets to you.”

The Knicks would seem to have turned a corner, but problems remain. Sprewell has demanded a trade if he doesn’t start, and he plays Houston’s position. Camby is said to blame Van Gundy for the fact that he re-signed for only $42 million, instead of the maximum $70 million.

Who knows? Checketts may not turn out to be Van Gundy’s staunchest ally down the road, if things go bad.

Who knows? Van Gundy may remember that Checketts was gunning for him, even as he put together this memorable postseason.

Whatever happens, it won’t be easy, and it might not be pretty. And, the Garden being the Garden, it certainly won’t be the first time.

CORE OF CONTENTION

Power struggles, nothing new to the Knicks, have seized the day in New York:

CHECKETTS: Garden CEO ousted his best friend as GM, then lied about contacting Jackson during team’s unlikely playoff run.

GRUNFELD: Former GM prematurely (it turns out) was made the fall guy as Knicks struggled in regular season.

VAN GUNDY: He defied Grunfeld in keeping Sprewell as a reserve, then weathered Checketts’ disingenuous pursuit of Jackson.

NBA FINALS

NEW YORK vs. SAN ANTONIO (TV: Channel 4)

Spurs lead best-of-seven series, 2-1

Game 1: San Antonio 89, New York 77

Game 2: San Antonio 80, New York 67

Game 3: New York 89, San Antonio 81

Game 4: Tonight at New York, 6

Game 5: Friday at New York, 6 p.m.

Game 6: Sunday at San Antonio, 4:30 p.m.*

Game 7: Tuesday at San Antonio, 6 p.m.*

* If necessary

****

DEFIANT KNICK: New York forward Larry Johnson is unapologetic over his profane weekend outburst that led to a $25,000 fine, saying, “We’re not trying to be liked by the world. We’re trying to win basketball games.” Page 4

COMPOSITE BOX, PAGE 4