No matter what he does, Knicks’ Anthony just can’t win

PORTLAND — He can’t win.

That’s the best defense I’m going to muster for Carmelo Anthony, and even by saying that I understand what it implies out of context: that he can’t win. That he can’t get his teams out of the first round of the NBA playoffs. That he is a terrific player, not a winning player. You hear the arguments. Hell, it may well be that you argue that side of the argument. And I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong. But we’ll return to the question of Anthony the winner a little later.

Let’s look at it the other way: he can’t win. He can’t catch a break. He can’t ever be given the benefit of the doubt by so many because to give him the benefit of the doubt is to offer undue sympathy to a millionaire who knew exactly what he was getting into when he chose New York and all that goes along with the money and the city. So no matter what he does, he gets two sides of a debate both, somehow, aiming their darts and their arrows at him.

For instance:

Argument I: Carmelo is a selfish player. Just look at what he did Wednesday night in Denver, knowing he had a bum knee, knowing he wasn’t 100 percent, knowing that when he isn’t 100 percent he doesn’t have that gene that allows him to play well in spite of his ailments. That was the gene Michael Jordan had, the one Kobe Bryant and LeBron James have. If Melo were hurting, the argument goes, he owed it to his team to sit out, or to get his knee drained sooner than yesterday, missing the Knicks’ 105-90 loss to the Blazers at Rose Garden.

Argument I-A: And this is the problem for Anthony. Let’s say he did sit it out. Let’s say he said to himself, “You know what, much as I’d like to answer the angry masses here in Colorado, I’m going to wear my suit and tie and watch from the sidelines.” Well let’s be entirely honest here: how would that have gone over? What would people have said then? That he’s soft? That he has no guts? That he has no courage? That he’s a selfish player who puts his own health above that of the team’s?

“I’m going to listen to my players,” Knicks coach Mike Woodson said. “He told me he could play and we accommodated him by playing

So what do you do then?

How do you win?

You don’t. He doesn’t. He can’t. No matter which side he chooses, he loses. Maybe the more prudent course of action would have been the second but only because of this: Melo doesn’t play well when he’s grinding through pain. He just doesn’t. That’s a fair critique.

But that’s never enough when we judge him, is it?

And before we go, let’s take the same approach to the old tired argument of whether Carmelo is a winner or not. That goes back to our first sentence. He can’t win. Pundits and wise guys will seize on that: No. He can’t. He never has. That’s the point, just as you typed it: He can’t win.

Let’s look at that argument:

Argument A: He never makes players around him better.

Rebuttal: What about Syracuse, which he led to a national title in 2003? Look at that team around him: one other pro (Hakim Warrick) and a batch of role players who, excepting Gerry McNamara’s otherworldly run through the Big East Tournament three years later, never came close to approaching without him what they were with him. And kill his Denver years all you like; as a rookie, with Earl Boykins and Voshon Lenard as his running mates, he led the Nuggets from 17 to 43 wins.

Argument B: He’s never won anywhere else.

Rebuttal: Well, except for the Olympics of Beijing and London, in which he was a key contributor to a star-studded lineup who, according to no less than Mike Krzyzewski, “Enjoyed playing in this kind of format more than any player I ever saw.”

Argument C: Well, sure. He didn’t have to be The Man.

Rebuttal: And this is where we return to the original premise. In most of Melo’s basketball word, his chief flaw is that he wants the ball too much. In the Olympics, he’s killed because he doesn’t want it enough.

He can’t win.