Coming to Grips

MINNEAPOLIS —  They press against angry teammates’ chests during arguments with referees.

They summon sulking teammates into the locker room for a scolding.

They dial the caterer and sign the check for the daily team lunches that have kept the Minnesota Timberwolves tight.

They are peacemakers, leaders, inspirations, these giant hands of Latrell Sprewell, and it is his dream to adorn them with NBA championship jewelry.

Maybe then, people will finally forget how they were once wrapped around his coach’s neck.

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He has returned to the national stage as if leaping there from the audience, gasps abounding, stares from all.

Latrell Sprewell is back, trying to help his injury-depleted ‘Wolves survive the Lakers, his image fighting to survive itself.

One game already lost, win Game 2 or probably be swept, Sprewell shows up tonight at Target Center with the hardened scowl, the one-fisted chest thump.

And P.J. Carlesimo.

Can anyone watch him and not think about the Golden State coach whom Sprewell choked in December 1997 in one of the most infamous acts of misconduct in sports history?

He also carries the baggage of $6.4 million and 68 games.

That’s how much the incident cost him after he was eventually suspended for the rest of the season in one of the stiffest penalties in sports history.

He is six years older and two teams removed from that day, yet it follows him around like a late mortgage payment.

“When he was traded here, people asked me, ‘How can you coach him? Aren’t you afraid to coach him?’ ” related Flip Saunders, the Timberwolves’ boss.

He has helped one team to the NBA Finals, and has helped push the Timberwolves past the first round for the first time in team history, yet mention his name, and everybody thinks the same thing.

“There’s a couple of times I’ve wanted to strangle Phil,” said Shaquille O’Neal with a grin. “But my computer wouldn’t allow me to.”

Then, holding out his hands as if preparing to strangle an invisible Phil Jackson, O’Neal pulled back while intoning, “Malfunction! Malfunction! Malfunction!”

That was funny, but the incident was not, remaining a defining moment in the debate about the declining integrity of the professional athlete.

Yet Sprewell acts as if it were a blip.

He has shown little remorse and few regrets. Any blame, he has tried to pawn off on the coach. Any notion that he learned or grew from the incident, he quashes.

When Carlesimo first offered his hand before a game a year later when Sprewell played for the New York Knicks, Sprewell refused to take it.

Later, still with the Knicks, the not-so-chastened Sprewell broke his hand during a fight on his yacht, allegedly punching a man whose girlfriend had soiled the new acquisition by vomiting on it.

Yet Sprewell has made millions since the choking, while Carlesimo lost his job with the Warriors and is now an assistant coach with the San Antonio Spurs.

“It was one incident,” Sprewell said softly Saturday when asked about the choking.

Has it helped him in his dealings with coaches?

“Starting with my high school coach, most coaches never have a problem with me,” he said.

Did he learn from it? Did it change him?

“I am the same person I was then,” he said.

If that’s the case, he’s still a person who would put both hands on his coach’s neck and move him backward during an argument about playing time.

He’s still a person who would then return to the gym and throw punches at the coach while threatening to kill him.

If Sprewell is indeed the same person ... well, it’s because he can be.

If numerous off-court crimes committed by athletes in recent years have taught us anything, it is that sports is not about the person, but the player.

As Laker fans have so poignantly proven from the days of their beloved Dennis Rodman, sports is not a place for moral judgment, but a place to escape those judgments.

A great jump shot makes you a cool guy. A tough rebound makes you an honorable guy. Helping a teammate off the floor makes you a sensitive guy.

Win a championship and you become a great guy, and Sprewell is halfway there.

“I’m really glad you’re doing this story, because people have no idea,” said Mark Madsen, who joined the Timberwolves this season, as did Sprewell.

He motioned to the weight room, where Sprewell was lifting barbells long after most teammates had departed.

“He’s the first one here, last to one leave,” Madsen said. “He’s one of the best teammates I’ve ever had. I can’t say enough about how he’s influenced this team.”

Saunders agreed.

“In my 25 years, he’s been one of the favorite guys I’ve ever coached,” he said. “He respects me. He respects his teammates. He is [180] degrees from his image.”

Sprewell is the Timberwolf who can settle down Sam Cassell when he is running his giant mouth at the officials.

“As I’ve gotten older, gotten more experience in difficult games, I’ve learned it’s important to stay focused and not get too out of control with certain situations,” Sprewell said.

He is also the Timberwolf who can reason with emotional Kevin Garnett.

“He’s been an amazing influence,” said Garnett.

And an accomplished businessman, apparently, as his Sprewell Motorsports store in the San Gabriel Valley has done well in the sales of auto accessories, particularly those spinning rims known as “Sprewells.”

“The more I’ve dealt with him, the more I’ve liked him,” said Saunders.

It doesn’t hurt that he scored a team-leading 23 points in the series opener, and will be counted upon for at least that much today.

“Once they call your name and throw the ball up, it’s hard to explain ... but you become a different person,” Sprewell said.

Maybe you do.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at [email protected]. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.