The saga of James Dolan, Phil Jackson and Isiah Thomas will bring new meaning to the phrase Triangle Offense.
Jimmy walked along the beach, making his way to the makeshift alter. This was the happiest day of his life. As he turned the corner, emerging from the row of sea roses, he spotted his beloved.
“Jim…James! I thought about what we discussed the other day and maybe Kurt Rambis is not the answer.” Phil Action Jackson towered over Dolan like a gaunt, enormous bird, as he roused him from his daydream.
“What is it Phil?” he asked, unable to conceal his annoyance. “What was the question?”
“About who should coach the Knicks?”
“So, you’ve finally decided to coach the team yourself?” Jackson now had Dolan’s attention.
“No way Jimbo! I already told you, that would be ridiculous. How about this?” Jackson’s huge hands framed the air marquee in the space between them, “Jeff…” he paused for effect, “Horn-a-cek.”
Dolan glared at Jackson.
“Well, what do you think?”
“Phil, you’re really testing my patience. As it is, I’m still paying Derek Fisher. What happened, you couldn’t find one of the Van Gundy brothers?” he asked mockingly. “Maybe we should call Isiah. His record at Florida International wasn’t a total disaster.”
Although Thomas’s record over three seasons at FIU was 26-65 and he never won more than 11 games in a single season, measured against the benchmark that is the New York Knicks organization under the leadership of Jackson, Dolan’s assessment was not totally off base.
“I already called Isiah’s agent, and was told he’s auditioning for a summer theatre production of Othello.”
“Isiah’s auditioning for the part of Othello?”
“No, Desdemona,” Jackson informed him as Dolan slowly nodded.
“I guess that makes sense. It is Shakespeare.” An idea slowly coalesced in Jimmy’s mind as an opportunity presented itself.
“Is the part of Othello still available?” “‘Put out the light, and then put out the light.'”
Jackson, who had already lost interest, turned on his heel and left the owner alone with his thoughts. Jackson lamented, “Why can’t you be more like Jerry Reinsdorf?”
Four Square Miles of Noise 
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