The New York Knicks paid Stephon Marbury $19 million this season not to play. Let that sink in for a moment. The Knicks deemed him so poisonous to team chemistry it was better to give him million after million after million — repeat this 16 more times for his full salary — than to risk him being anywhere near the other players. The most contact he had with his teammates was when he bought a seat to their game against the Lakers in Los Angeles (news accounts said he sat by Spike Lee and spent most of the game talking on his cell phone). Recently I wrote about Mike Tyson, who is by his own admission a chronically unfaithful man prone to violent rages he can’t remember, much less control, plus a convicted rapist. I still like him more than Marbury.

My contempt doesn’t fully make sense. Marbury lifted his entire family up from poverty to riches, which is deeply admirable. His creation of the low-priced “Starbury” sneaker line was an undeniably decent gesture, bucking the trend of kids needing to come up with a hundred bucks or more for the new pair of Jordans (not that it’s had any real impact, as Nikes remain everywhere and the only person I’ve seen wear Starburys is Starbury himself). To my knowledge he’s never been in trouble with the law or faced an allegation more serious than a consensual affair (the married father pick-and-rolled a team intern in a strip club parking lot — hey, he’s only human). Yet somehow next to Marbury, even A-Rod seems like Roberto Clemente.

The product of a family in Coney Island who decided their only shot at moving up in the world was to produce a son who’d make a fortune in the NBA, Marbury had three older brothers fail to make the cut. Stephon broke the jinx. After spending an entire year getting his education at Georgia Tech, the freshman joined the Minnesota Timberwolves (they gave up the future nine-time All-Star/He Got Game star Ray Allen to get him, the first of many times Marbury would be swapped for a player who went on to have a better career than his). Paired with future Hall of Fame forward Kevin Garnett, it seemed a dynasty in the making.

Then Marbury realized that, due to a change in the NBA’s salary cap rules, he could never earn as much as Garnett. He could still make positively offensive amounts of money, but there would always be one guy on his team with a paycheck even more appalling. This was unacceptable. Ignoring that he didn’t deserve to be the highest paid player in the first place, he forced a trade to New Jersey (Minnesota replaced him with the talented but injury prone Terrell Brandon, in the one case where Marbury was arguably the equal of his replacement), then a trade to Phoenix (New Jersey replaced him with the future Hall of Famer Jason Kidd, who promptly took them to the Finals twice), and then a trade to New York (Phoenix replaced him with Steve Nash, who went on to win two MVPs). Back in his hometown and with an absurdly large contract — his lowest salary during his years in New York was nearly $15 million — it seemed at last Marbury would be content.

As any Knick fan can tell you, this wasn’t to be the case. Marbury is only 6’2”, making him tiny by the standards of the NBA or, for that matter, the sitcom Night Court (both Harry Anderson and John Larroquette are taller than him, and let’s not even get started on Bull). Beyond this, Marbury’s game has flaws that wouldn’t be corrected if he suddenly grew six inches, in that he doesn’t care for defense and has a knack for making selfish or just plain terrible decisions, not an ideal trait in a point guard. Somehow, things were worse off the court, as the Knickerbockers were going through a period that makes the Yankees seem functional (highlights include sexual harassment, anti-Semitism, and a nude shower fight).

Marbury can’t be blamed for much of it, but he provided the nadir. Even as the players turned on each other and fans grew increasingly suicidal, Marbury knew Knick mastermind Isiah Thomas had his back. As the guy handling personnel moves and eventually the outright coach, Thomas put his complete faith in Marbury and built the team around him. Marbury rewarded him by, on the one occasion Thomas stood up to him, threatening to resort to blackmail by leaking all the dirt he knew about the Knicks.

As a Knick fan, I have to ask: what more dirt could there possibly be? Were they engaged in international piracy? Kiddie porn? Are they really a terrorist cell? In this moment Stephon Marbury made me sympathize with Isiah Thomas. That is inexcusable. Besides being one of the worst executives in league history — AIG wouldn’t touch this guy — Isiah is a strong candidate for Worst Father of the Year in recognition of when he attempted to deal with media coverage of his sleeping pill overdose by pretending the Thomas family member hospitalized was his daughter (not that it worked: holes began to appear in his story almost immediately, notably when someone noted police described the patient as a “47-year-old man”). There are many people with legitimate reasons to hate Thomas. Stephon Marbury is not one of them. His treatment of Isiah is the hardwood equivalent of Joseph Stalin trusting Adolf Hitler to respect their truce, and Adolf breaking Joe’s poison heart.

The final punch line is Marbury is now experiencing a career resurgence. After agreeing to kick back two million of his $20.8 million salary, the Knicks finally released him so he could join another team. He promptly signed with the defending champion Boston Celtics for $1.3 million prorated to reflect the amount of the season he missed (meaning this year he’ll earn roughly 40 times more for the time he spent sitting in the stands than the time he spent on the court). Marbury has played a limited role, but has yet to sleep with any interns or resort to blackmail with the coaching staff, so it’s going better than expected. He recently turned 32, and as a perverse benefit of his “playing” for the Knicks has dodged a lot of physical wear and tear. Next season he will be a free agent, looking for a final big deal. Good luck to whomever gives it.

 

Man of the Moment appears each Wednesday.

 

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