TAPS DANCIN’
New Knick Kristaps Porzingis goes from a small town in Latvia to biggest stage on Broadway:
KRISTAPS PORZINGIS, a seven-foot Latvian, ambled about the Barclays Center’s inner bowels shortly after 11 p.m. Thursday. He wore a carmine red suit with a black leather shawl collar, shaking a white No. 15 Knicks jersey with both hands as boom mics hovered. He ducked beneath a doorway and looked down a ramp by the loading dock. Black curtains kept passersby from peeking in on post-draft celebrations, and his parents, Talis and Ingrida, idled nearby, a ball beneath his father’s left arm, his right arm around his wife’s shoulder. Their older sons, Janis and Martins, surveyed the scene. Porzingis, blonde and bone-thin, bounded toward them. He pivoted as if on a catwalk before leaving, opening his suit jacket to reveal lining featuring Latvia’s carmine-and-white flag. He unloosed pent-up patriotism. “Latvia!” he said. “Representing!” Booed in public, Porzingis rebounded in private. Nineteen years old and now a Knick, he negotiated the back hallways with aplomb as cameramen choked his path. Onlookers unfamiliar with his ability to finish lobs with dunks in transition eyed a confident gait and casual grace. He spoke English fluently, just as he can speak Spanish and Latvian. He wore a small scar above his top lip, a reminder of a collision with a counterpart’s head last season in Spain, the country he called home the last four years. His phone filled with messages, texts streaming across the Baltic and Atlantic seas. He appeared at home, but hurdles remained. MSG broadcaster Tina Cervasio, positioning for an interview, watched as he nearly tripped on a wire.
“Oh!” she said. “We don’t need to hurt you the first five minutes you’re with the Knicks!”
Porzingis proved steady. He survived his first night as a Knick. Striding on stage was the last step to the game’s biggest platform for a player from Liepaja, a coastal city in Latvia, an Eastern European country better known internationally for hockey. He never took to the ice as a child, choosing instead to follow bouncing balls to Spain and finally Manhattan. Born into a basketball family, be exceeded all others’ heights and expectations, his wingspan wrapping all four family members in quick-snap portraits captured on draft night. At 7-foot1, 233 pounds, his arms measured as thin as capellini in pre-draft exams. In celebration of being selected No. 4 overall by the Knicks in the NBA Draft, he seized a cellphone in order to hold it out far enough to snap a fraternal selfie. Porzingis relished taking command among family. “I got this,” he said. “I got this.” His first stop after his press conference was the weight room. No work was done, though. The treadmill and barbells were moved to the back or covered up as photographers shouted for Porzingis to “Look!” and “Shoot!” before backdrops. Perfect, they told him. Hold that shot, they said. His lips creased. He stood sideways; a Knicks hat sat on his head in an offkilter design. He grinned widely, dribbling in tight spaces when told to. He maintained that he could help lead the Knicks from the NBA’s nether reaches, noting that he would do whatever wingman Carmelo Anthony requested of him. He palmed pebbled leather and held it out for the lens to capture.
“I know the history,” he said. “Hopefully I can do something.”
There were more traditions to learn outside the arena. He was informed that the Mets invited him to throw out the first pitch, alongside fellow first-round pick Jerian Grant, the next night. One staffer fretted about his lack of baseball knowledge. He told the draftee to make sure that he threw with only two fingers, not all five. Another helper encouraged him to take a step when he threw. If he stood still, he might throw the ball straight into the ground. He promised to be prepared.
“Nobody plays baseball in Latvia,” his brother Martins said. “Nobody.”
Porzingis grew up in a green house a 10-minute walk from the Baltic Sea. His father, a 6-foot-4 bus driver, built a wooden court in the family’s yard, laying lumber down before cultivating the family’s relentless reputation. Net strands were taped to the metal rim; there was a wood backboard, too. He taught his boys toughness, branded with an elbows-out aggressiveness. Martins, the middle son, leveled the youngest when necessary. He mimicked the mannerisms of Kaspars Kambala, the 6-foot-9, 276-pound forward from Riga, the capital city. Kambala pounded opponents.
“We pushed him around a lot — a lot!” Martins said. “He still remembers.”
Porzingis retained much. He started playing
when he was six. At 10, he ranked tallest among teammates, but his coach allowed him to stay at point guard. He developed skills, both in shooting and ball handling. He also took to the water for unorganized workouts, wearing his wetsuit and watching shoulder muscles emerge. The family enjoyed retreats to a beach outside town. They wind surfed and stood up on paddleboards. Porzingis believed water sports bettered his body control, making him more familiar with his full range of movement as he grew longer. Eventually, he proved strong enough to square with his brothers and father. Two-on-two matchups featured Janis, a professional in Italy, and Kristaps versus their father and Martins.
“They beat us senselessly at times,” Martins said.
His mother, a former center at 6-foot1, recognized the need for son to move out in order to move up. There were few examples of local successes to study at the time. No Latvian had reached the NBA since Andris Biedrinš, of Riga, was drafted by the Golden State Warriors with the No. 11 pick in the 2004 draft. When Porzingis turned 15, his family recognized a need for better competition. They believed he could be a great Euroleague prospect, but his gradual growth in height presented options. He could move to Riga, Italy or Spain. Janis lived in Italy, playing professional basketball for three seasons in Tuscany before heading south. Porzingis blazed a different trail, signing on with Cajasol Seville, competing in the ACB League and for the junior team in Spain’s fourth division. Memories of home still held him, though. When he returned home for Christmas, his mother washed his clothes.
“He smelled it, and said, ‘No I don’t want to leave again,’” Martins said. “In the end, he needed to go to play professionally. There was never a discussion in his head.”
His gifts garnered more attention the next season, scoring 20 points in 20 minutes in a six-point defeat to Real Madrid in the ACB. He immersed himself in the culture, taking in bullfights in the afternoon with teammates, and measuring up well against top competition. Janis took note of nuances in his brother’s game. A fade-away here, better footwork there. Tinkering paid dividends, and technical improvements drew attention. He needed work with his lower body, but his high release on jumpers proved effective. He was an early entry candidate for the NBA Draft in 2014, but withdrew prior to the deadline. Last winter, Knicks scout Clarence Gaines Jr. took in a Porzingis performance in Madrid. He was impressed and starred the pony in his racing form, relaying word to team president Phil Jackson via text message that the Knicks, in the midst of a 17-win season, must consider Porzingis as a top pick. General manager Steve Mills was dispatched to Barcelona to follow up. He agreed with Gaines Jr. Jackson reflected on his bird dog.
“When someone says to me this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, I have to be aware and consider that after he’s been in this league as long as he has,” Jackson said.
Jackson, the philosopher of Flathead Lake, considered Porzingis another piece in his ongoing jigsaw puzzle. He feted his first pick, mentioning Pau Gasol’s name as a comparable path. Fan acceptance proved slow, though. Former guard Dennis Scott panned the pick immediately over the PA system at Barclays, saying, “I don’t like the pick! I don’t like the pick at all!” A pre-teen fan in blue thick-frame glasses and an orange Anthony jersey held an iPhone in front of his face and planted his forehead in his head. It was a visual that went viral on Vine. By 7 a.m. Friday, a WFAN caller requested that the hosts “talk me off the ledge,” drawing on European Andrea Bargnani, a failed former first-round pick, as a comparison to the new Knick. On HOT 97, a host asked, “Has the kid woken up yet?” Another offered Porzingis advice: “Porzingis, do not let them rattle you. The Knicks fans are just impatient.”
The tenderfoot tried to tune it all out. He maintained that he was intent on proving the stereotypes wrong. He shrugged when asked about the post-pick scene.
“They’re booing me because maybe they don’t know me,” he said. “Maybe they don’t want a European on their team. It’s in my hands to make them cheer.”
Janis, the oldest brother, focused on Porzingis’ firm foundation when weathering the criticism. He talked about their childhood home to help describe his brother’s growth. To illustrate, he mentioned two photos. One was taken when Porzingis was an infant. He was wrapped in a blanket and Janis held him in his arms. The other was taken two years ago when Porzingis was approaching seven-feet tall. Janis, a tall, trim man then 31 years old, held his thin brother in his arms once again. It was the same pose. There were new strains on him to hold his sibling up.
“Just way more difficult,” Janis said.
Morning broke cool and cloudy Friday. Porzingis woke up in his room at the Westin in Times Square. He put on a patterned blazer, pocket square, skinny tie with clip and navy suede shoes. He pulled a backpack over both shoulders, and stepped into a black Escalade with Janis. They rode 23 miles north to the Knicks facility. He was the greenhorn in Greenburgh, dropped off at the front door at 10 a.m. He carried a Naked juice — proteins and greens — in his right hand. He wore a microphone and was trailed by a videographer. Jonathan Supranowitz, the team’s vice president for public relations, stopped the cameraman at the door while Porzingis entered.
“Well, he has a mic on,” the cameraman said. “Might want to take that off.”
Porzingis stepped back out. The mic was removed. He was introduced during a formal press conference an hour later. Jackson — in black suit and sneakers — addressed Porzingis’ need to put on weight. He noted that he was a stretch-four with potential to be a center. He mentioned speaking with Gasol, the former Laker from Spain who won big with Jackson in Los Angeles.
“(Gasol) said he was 227 when he was drafted — approximately the same height,” Jackson said. “I didn’t ask him that, he volunteered that, he was trying to reassure me. I was a skinny kid when I came in the NBA, too. I think another stone or so he should weigh before he’s four or five years in the league, maybe two stone. But it’s not about that, it’s about strength, we see Kristaps being evolving.”
Porzingis eyed the space around him. His parents postponed their flight back to Latvia right after the pick was made. They flew in on June 23, a tiring, 10-hour trek. They were already familiar with the airline schedules, knowing it was seven hours from Riga and 10 hours from Moscow. They remained connected to home on draft night. Friends stayed up past 2 a.m. to watch him get drafted. Text messages trickled into their phones. Porzingis will stay for summer league in Las Vegas, but family will be near, too. The brothers plan to rotate stays stateside to assist him.
“A lot of Latvians were watching,” Martins said. “It’s not just special for basketball. That’s special for all of sport in Latvia. Soccer and ice hockey players are watching it.”
Forty feet away, the youngest Porzingis settled in. He took the measure of his new workplace. He wanted to know where he could gain access at any hour.
“I have to ask the guys, ‘Where’s my key?’” he said.