Scorecard

Riley Runs the Show

On the last page of his best-selling business tome, The Winner Within, Pat Riley highlights the words of his father, Lee, who was a major influence on his life: "Every now and then, somewhere, some place, sometime, you are going to have to plant your feet, stand firm, and make a point about who you are and what you believe in. When that time comes, Pat, you simply have to do it."

Well, Pat has done it. In going after the Miami Heat job last spring, while he was still coaching the New York Knicks in the playoffs, Riley showed that much of what he believes in is power and control. Oh, he believes in money, too, but that's secondary—he would've earned $3 million per year had he agreed to a five-year, $15 million offer to continue coaching the Knicks. No, Riley is first and foremost a guy who wants to make all the decisions, and that, ultimately, led to his departure and emergence as Übercoach in Miami.

Riley no doubt battled—as he said in an extensive interview in the New York Daily News last week—with Dave Checketts, president of Madison Square Garden Sports Group. And he certainly felt justifiable frustration trying to operate within the Knicks' oppressive corporate structure. But Riley has been around too long to be surprised or deterred by those obstacles.

In fact, Riley was coaching a tired team that was not going to make it to the finish line no matter how often he publicly questioned its character. He was frustrated and wanted a kingdom to rule unencumbered. Welcome to Miami, Pat, where the titles of president, part owner and coach, along with a salary reportedly in line with the Knicks' offer, have been bestowed upon you.

He will no doubt make a big difference to a franchise that has been mediocre since it came into the NBA in 1988. Riley is a good coach, maybe a great one. The Heat has long had much potential, and Riley might be the one to drag them out of the doldrums. But there is a considerable gap between the man and the image of the savvy CEO who is also a down-to-earth team player, an image that Riley cultivates in a multimillion-dollar moonlighting career as motivational speaker, well-coiffed corporate spokesman and author. One of the pet phrases for which Riley has become famous is "the disease of me," an affliction, he says, that destroys successful teams and successful businesses. What Riley doesn't seem to realize is that he suffers from a chronic case of it.

Name Players

After noticing the Chicago Cubs' new battery of righthanded pitcher Kevin Foster and catcher Mark Parent, author and quirkhound Brad Herzog couldn't help hunting through bygone eras for other baseball namemates. The best of his discoveries date to 1908, when the New York Highlanders rolled out pitcher Harry Billiard and shortstop Neal Ball. The Philadelphia A's twice made the nominal list, employing pitchers Ed Holmes and Mule Watson in '18, and then the novel combination of pitcher Earl Huckleberry and outfielder Lou Finney in '35. In '37 the Cubs served up pitcher Larry French and infielder Lonny Frey, and in '57 Detroit Tiger fans awoke to a lineup that included outfielder Charlie Maxwell and catcher Frank House.

Then, between 1983 and '93, came the genesis of religious rivalry in the name game. Journeyman pitcher Jim Gott and oft-traveled infielder Tim Teufel, whose German surnames mean, respectively, "god" and "devil"—squared off many times over the years. "I hope it's not a Biblical confrontation," Teufel said after his early encounters with Gott. "If it is, I lose."

He did, too, managing only two hits off Gott in nine at bats. But give the Teufel his due—one of the two was a home run.