By HOWARD BECK
Published: July 16, 2012
The frenzy is spreading, just as it did all those months ago, a palpable buzz reverberating from Midtown to Chinatown and to every corner of every borough. Jeremy Lin is still stirring passions, except this time with his contract, not his clever passing.
Richard Perry/The New York Times
Jeremy Lin sparked interest in the New York Knicks, but some fans question his future value.
The Knicks have until Tuesday night to match a three-year, $25.1 million offer to Lin, the 23-year-old point guard sensation, or lose him to the Houston Rockets. The contract devised by Houston contains a $14.98 million balloon payment in the final year: a provision that could cost the Knicks three times that amount in luxury-tax penalties under the N.B.A.’s restrictive new system.
So the debate now rages: to pay or not to pay. To invest in Lin’s enticing potential and popularity, or to let him leave.
Suddenly, everyone is a salary-cap expert, an economist, a scout and a chief executive.
“Got to let him go,” said Joe Anthony, a 38-year-old Brooklyn resident, speaking outside a sporting-goods store at 42nd Street and Seventh Avenue. “While he has all of the potential in the world, I think there’s a lot of question marks.”
Lin electrified Madison Square Garden and became a global star in February when he seized the Knicks’ point guard job and sparked a seven-game winning streak, saving their season. His made-for-Broadway story was irresistible: Harvard-educated. Undrafted. Overlooked. Waived twice. The son of Taiwanese immigrants. An Asian-American in a league with no others.
Lin’s No. 17 jersey became a top seller in days. “Linsanity” T-shirts flew off the racks at local sporting-good stores. Sports Illustrated put him on back-to-back covers. “Saturday Night Live” devoted skits to him. Restaurants named sandwiches and shakes after him. Creating Lin puns became a sport unto itself.
But Knicks fans are a tormented, anxious lot, scarred by years of bad basketball, bloated payrolls and underachieving players. The thought of devoting $25 million to a virtual rookie with a 26-game résumé strikes some fans as less than sane. Others cannot bear to see Lin leave, no matter the cost.
“I think for the last 10 years, people have had nothing to get excited about for the Knicks,” Nelson Park, 29, said while taking a smoking break outside a Midtown office building. “And finally, after one year, we have something. I mean, how many millions of dollars have they spent on other players?”
Outrage and despair filled blogs, message boards and Twitter timelines over the weekend, when word circulated that the Knicks were likely to let Lin go. Fans threatened to stop watching games, to cancel their season tickets, even to — gasp — switch allegiances to the Brooklyn Nets.
When the Knicks struck a deal Saturday night to acquire Raymond Felton, a veteran point guard, the prospect of losing Lin seemed more real than ever. A person briefed on the team’s thinking said it was highly unlikely the Knicks would match.
Two petitions aimed at reversing that fate were begun Sunday. One referred to Lin as “the best thing that has happened to New York Knicks basketball in the last 20 years.” It had 7,000 signatures as of Monday afternoon.
The emotions may be even stronger in Chinatown, where Lin-watching parties flourished in February. Wilson Tang, the 33-year-old owner of Nom Wah Tea Parlor, hosted some of those gatherings.
“The whole Linsanity thing was great,” Tang said. “It was great for New York. It was great for the Knicks. It was great for sales. It was great for Asian-Americans like myself, to see someone like that make it.”
Although Tang said it would pain him to see Lin go, he said his loyalty to the Knicks would not change, “because I’m a New York Knicks fan, not a Jeremy Lin fan.”
Another fan, Jeffrey Wong, said in an e-mail that he was “probably a little more caught up than most fans” when Linsanity erupted. He called the contractual debate “a little confusing and frustrating.”
“But I think in the end, if the Knicks don’t re-sign Jeremy, and even if they do, they come off looking like bumbling idiots,” Wong wrote.
Of course, Knicks fans are sadly accustomed to bumbling, ill-fated decisions.
The franchise spent the last decade chasing fading stars and overhyped talent with huge salaries, like Stephon Marbury, Jalen Rose and Steve Francis. The Knicks led the league in payroll and luxury-tax payments for years. All it got them was a permanent seat at the N.B.A.’s draft lottery — except in the years when the Knicks had no first-round pick because they had traded them away.
That scars of that legacy are evident on all sides of the Lin debate. Some fans see an albatross contract and shudder at the thought of a smaller, speedier Jerome James. Others see a cruel twist: that after years of fiscal recklessness, the Knicks have suddenly gone conservative.
“The problem the Knicks have faced for the last 10 years is just cap issues and maneuverability,” said Anthony, the fan who favors letting Lin go. He added, “If this guy turns out to be a bust, then they’re going to be caught with another lame duck that they’re not going to be able to move.”
Park, who wants the Knicks to match the contract, said it was worth the risk.
“It’s a lot of money, but compared to what they’ve spent in the past, it’s not that much,” he said. “Again, players like Marbury and Eddy Curry, they’ve gotten nothing out of it.”
Still others say the issue is not the money, but the résumé. Lin averaged 18.6 points and 7.6 assists in his 26 games as an everyday player. But he hardly played as a rookie, and his ultimate value is unclear.
“They’re paying him $1 million for every game that he’s actually started in his career,” said Connor Loughlin, a 26-year-old fan who was heading to work in Midtown.
Even Lin’s teammates have become engulfed in the debate. Carmelo Anthony, when asked if the Knicks should keep Lin, referred to the contract as “ridiculous.” J. R. Smith, in an interview with Sports Illustrated, said the contract could stir jealousy in the locker room.
At one Midtown restaurant, Lin’s probable departure will not only hurt some patrons’ feelings, but their stomachs. At the height of Linsanity, the chef at Feile, on West 33rd Street, created the LIN-burger -- “a five-spice pork burger,” said Mark Collins, the restaurant’s manager. “Had some ginger on it. Some pineapple. A really interesting burger.”
“At the time of Linsanity, when it was at its height, they couldn’t get enough of it,” Collins, a Knicks fan, said of the burger. “It was very popular.”
Collins, 37, said the dish was discontinued when the season ended but would return if Lin did. Now he figures it is gone for good.
The LIN-burger was priced at $11 which, when you think about it, is a lot to pay for an entree with such a short track record.
Ken Belson and Tim Rohan contributed reporting.
