Phil Jackson has nine NBA championship rings.

Stan Van Gundy has one — and he doesn’t even know where it is.
That’s because he doesn’t really consider it his ring. To him, it’s more of a token gesture given to him by Miami’s Pat Riley after the Heat won the championship in 2006 — the same season in which Van Gundy curiously stepped down as head coach early in the year and Riley took over the team.
“I’m not sure where it’s at,” Van Gundy says of the ring. “I think it’s in storage somewhere. It was nice of them (the Heat) to reach out and give me one, but the ring has no meaning to me. I didn’t have anything to do with the championship. I wasn’t a part of it.”
What more do you need to know about the differences between the two coaches who will be vying for the NBA championship? One is considered basketball nobility and has as many titles as anybody in history. One is considered basketball utility — a hard-hat, lunch-bucket coach whose only chance for a ring was prematurely and mysteriously ended by either his own absence of ego or Riley’s abundance of it.
If there truly are sports gods up there in hoops heaven, Van Gundy will vanquish Jackson and win his first real championship ring after the NBA Finals commence Thursday in Tinseltown. A victory for Van Grumpy is a victory for the blue collars. A victory for Phil is a victory for the blue bloods.
Come on, America, who do you want to win this championship — the aloof, arrogant master of Zen or the grunting, sweating master mechanic who is cursing underneath your car at Tire Kingdom because he can’t get the lug nuts off your left front?
Are you rooting for the guy who dates the owner’s daughter or the guy who opens up a postgame news conference stumping for his own daughter to win the student council election at her high school?
Orlando, of course, is rooting for Van Gundy. Not just because he’s the coach of the Magic but because this city has already felt the sting of Jackson’s pomposity. A few years ago when he was comparing Orlando to Chicago, Phil looked down his nose and said, “If you want a plastic city like Orlando that has warm weather and golf courses, that’s fine. But if you want a city that has meat and grist to it and has a culture, Chicago has it.”
There you have the juxtaposition between these two coaches: Diamonds-and-Frill Phil looks at Orlando as Bugtussel — the hick town where the Beverly Hillbillies lived before they moved to Californy. Common-Man Stan was so enamored with Orlando he turned down a job on the West Coast (Sacramento) and took the job here even though he was the second choice after Billy Donovan.
This is not meant to diminish the greatness of Phil. He is obviously an incredible coach, evidenced by the fact that he has more than 1,000 coaching wins, the highest winning percentage in NBA history and a league-record nine championships (only legendary Boston Celtics coach Red Auerbach has as many).
But, come on, pulling for Phil to win another championship is like pulling for Warren Buffett to win the lotto. Wouldn’t you rather have the Powerball go to the guy who works the graveyard shift at the pulp and paper mill?
Then Stan’s your man.
Phil quotes Buddha. Stan looks like him.
Phil dresses like he should be on the cover of GQ. Stan refuses to wear a tie and — true story — is pictured in this month’s Esquire magazine underneath a headline that reads: “People Who Seem Like They’ve Been Drinking.”
Phil is so cool, he hardly ever yells from the bench, rarely even stands up and doesn’t like to call timeouts. Says he wants his players to figure it out on their own. Stan’s so loud even his text messages are hoarse.
Says reserve Magic point guard Tyronn Lue, who won two rings with Jackson’s Lakers: “I don’t know if two coaches could be any more different.”
Phil writes books. Stan reads the newspaper.
Phil blames officials. Stan blames himself.
Phil once said, “Wisdom is an overmatch for strength.” Stan said just a few days ago, “I’m not a genius.”
Phil has been spotted dining out at Hollywood’s finest restaurants. Last week, Stan was spotted grabbing a slice of pizza at a mall food court in Cleveland.
“We’re not going to win the coaching matchup,” the self-deprecating Van Gundy says. “Phil has won more playoff series than I’ve won playoff games. You’ve got to be yourself. I couldn’t be Phil even if I wanted to.”
Thank goodness for that.
Phil Jackson will likely go down as the greatest coach in NBA history, but in this immaculately dressed, buttoned-down sports world filled with canned quotes and company lines, Van Gundy is the most refreshing coach of NBA present.
Phil is trying for his record 10th ring.
Wouldn’t you like to see Stan win just one he could call his very own?