And unlike past years, Van Gundy didn't have any ankles to grab or scrums in which to intervene. ESPN pronounced later in the day that he had outfoxed Riley the master for the second straight year. Maybe he was just looking for Dave Checketts in the stands, to gloat, or maybe he was running through defensive looks at Dikembe Mutombo in his mind.

"It's not about me at all. It's always been about the team," Van Gundy said.

And the courtside seat at the Garden can't hurt either.

The shot fell.

Pat Riley ran a well-tanned hand through his well-oiled hair and grimaced. Riley, the winningest coach in NBA playoff history, had been roundly criticized for overplaying his club in the weeks leading up to the post-season. He bagged the No. 1 seed in the Eastern Conference, but at a price too high to pay.

Riley glanced down the court at Van Gundy and sighed. The dwarfish, always poorly-dressed and poorly-coiffed genius had shown him the door for the second straight season. Small consolation: Van Gundy will never make the cover of Esquire.

These Knicks looked nothing like the Knicks Riley molded into a championship contender. Minus Charles Oakley, Anthony Mason, John Starks and their supporting cast of bruisers and head cases, these Knicks looked like a finesse operation.