NEW YORK -- John Starks came here four years ago, a
nobody with somebody ambitions. There didn't seem to be much to him. He didn't handle the ball that well. His shot was unreliable.
Not much of a passer. No personality. And he talked funny.
All he had going for him was an unconquerable will, derived from the urgency to provide for his family. And heart. Talk to anybody about John Starks -- old friends, coaches, teammates, family -- and heart is always the common attribute.
As it turned out, Starks had more to offer than a heart as big as all Oklahoma. Much more.
By now, the tantalizing ascent is a familiar story: four colleges in four years, grocery store bagger, CBA, USBL, cut by Warriors, signed by Knicks, key reserve, starter, All-Star, millionaire. It is a story that could one day end up on celluloid.
But what is really known about Starks? Has any star New York athlete lived a life so undercover?
Is he a raving lunatic, as the people of, say, Indianapolis or Chicago might think? Starks did, after all, execute the infamous head butt of Reggie Miller at Market Square Arena in the 1992 playoffs. And a few weeks later, Starks did lose it at Chicago Stadium, where he tried mightily to get a part of Michael Jordan.
Or is Starks -- as aggressive as any NBA player -- really a sedate family man who spends most of his off time holed up in his Greenwich, Conn., home with wife, Jacqueline, and kids, John Jr., 6, and Chelsea, 3?
Actually, he is a mixture of both, a paragon and a paradox. Competition, serenity and life make him tick.
"I'm the type of person who takes things as they come," Starks said. "That's a good way to go through life, because you're going to have ups and downs and if you stay on an even keel, you can get through this life."
Starks, 29, stars in the biggest, most glamorous -- and most prying -- city, but has not gotten caught up in the glitz.
"His playing style is based on explosion," said Starks' agent, Leigh Steinberg. "His life is built around his family and peace and quiet."
The most volatile, action-stirring Knick lives the most tranquil, solvent, boring life.
"He's a good person with a good soul," said Greg Anthony, Starks' best friend on the Knicks. "John's just a laid-back guy who's devoted to his family, to providing for them and enjoying them. I think it's great."
"John is totally gentle," Steinberg said of the man who once clotheslined Scottie Pippen and who tripped Pippen in the open court. "Considerate, courteous. Every conversation with him begins with him asking about your family. Polite."
It is an endeavor that "sometimes is difficult," Starks said. "But, then again, not really. You have to understand what got you where you are. And hard work got me here. I try to be the same person. Mostly, I'm at home with my family, relaxing, try to give them as much time as possible."
On the court, however, the explosiveness has come through. It ** has manifested itself in blistering three-point shooting barrages and in unfortunate nights like Game 7 of the NBA Finals last June, when he missed 10 of 11 fourth-quarter shots -- went 2-for-18 in the game -- in the Knicks' 90-84 loss.
The blowups with Miller, Jordan and Pippen, meanwhile, perpetuate an out-of-control image of Starks.
Steinberg is disturbed that no one seems to notice the change in Starks on the court.
"You look at the playoffs last year and lazy national TV commentators continually talked about John's incidents where he sort of lost it," Steinberg said. "Never did they mention . . . that John has been much more in control of his emotions in the last two years."
All this adds to the remarkable story of a man who not long ago bagged groceries at a Tulsa Safeway.
"The money allows you to buy things for your family that you couldn't before," he says in a tremendous understatement. "It gives you financial security. But that's it. It shouldn't change you as a person."
It is the change in his game that has made Starks one of the most beloved New York athletes. When he was signed four years ago, Starks had a lot of energy, but unrefined skills. He worked to become a capable ballhandler, a deadly perimeter marksman (despite a recent slump) and as ferocious a defender as there is in the NBA.
And under Pat Riley, Starks became a first-time all-star last February. "Over the last three years, John has to be the most improved player in the league," Riley said. "I never thought of him as a starter. I always thought of him as a guy who would be superb coming in off the bench. Then, all of a sudden, he started and I could never take the job away from him. He never lost it. He's become more mature."
Starks' growth has been more than on-court. Once the target of barbs from his teammates for his fashion misstatements, Starks dresses now with a stylish verve. Tasteful and smart.
Once the subject of teasing for his Oklahoma accent, Starks quietly took speech lessons.
Despite all the refinement, what makes Starks proud is simply the fact he made it to the NBA and stuck.
"That's the main thing," he said. "You have to get in there to do anything else."
Not only is Starks "in there," he's become such a key player that opponents key much of their game plan on him.
"Teams are trying everything now to take him out of his game," Riley said. "They trap him on pick and rolls. They stunt three guys at him on catch-and-shoot plays. They never leave him open on double teams. So, if a player is going to draw that much attention, then he's got to learn to make more plays for other people. And I think he understands that."