In the Head of James Dolan

S.L. Price does another bang up job profiling an NBA personality. This one is about the much maligned Knick honcho James Dolan, and I think it pretty much boils down to this:

"Jim actually doesn't care whether you love him or hate him, as long as you know him," says one former Garden executive. "Why else does he sit in the very front row? Why else does he come in late? He wants everyone to know: I am in charge." Indeed, at home games Dolan sits courtside just steps from the Knicks' bench, dressed in funereal black, slumping conspicuously lower the further the Knicks fall behind. Yes, Dolan agrees, he's sending a message to his players.

"There's somebody here who's the owner of the joint," he says. "They're playing for somebody. It's me. I'm actually looking at them and saying, 'I sign your check. When you do great, I feel great, and when you do bad, I feel bad.'"

I'm no psychologist, but something about reminding everyone that you sign the checks? And hanging it over people, day in and day out? Even nonverbally? And all that cavorting on stage in his blues band for attention? My diagnosis: weird.

The article also has great tales about him being really generous with his time and money for certain players like Vin Baker and Dikembe Mutombo. He's not pure evil. But he's definitely weird.