Clyde has found fountain of youth

Walt Frazier turns 65 next month, which in theory didn't seem all that shocking last night when he was surrounded by teammates from the 1969-70 Knicks.

After all, that storied team is full of senior citizens now.

But Clyde himself, 65? He doesn't look it or act it, and he said he doesn't feel it.

And thank goodness for that, considering that for fans of a certain age, he remains a member of the era's Triumvirate of Cool in New York sports, along with Joe Namath and Tom Seaver.

In part, you can credit Frazier's famous fashion sense - his baby blue suit stood out from those of his peers - as well as his lifestyle.

Frazier works about three-quarters of Knicks games for MSG, taking time off during the heart of the season to decompress in his beloved St. Croix.

"That's why I selected an environment like that, where I can stay active,'' he said. "The sunshine, the water . . ."

But what helps keep Frazier fresh is that unlike the rest of the old gang, he remains part of the 21st century Knicks' world.

For more than half the time that has elapsed since that first championship season, he has worked the team's games, first on radio and now on TV.

Fans born long after Frazier retired often know who he is, and some even know he once played.

"The ultimate ego trip for me is I still do basketball camps,'' he said, "and some kids are wearing my jersey, know all my stats, know where I went to college.''

Part of that, he knows, is "parents perpetuating the legacy of that team,'' but part of it also is that Frazier has fashioned a post-playing career he never imagined would go on this long.

"No, never,'' he said. "It's nothing I pursued. It was serendipitous that I got into it.''

Frazier envisioned a life managing rental properties and chartering tourist boats in St. Croix.

Then Ernie Grunfeld left the radio booth 21 years ago and the Knicks turned to Frazier. He had some media experience but not enough to have prevented a near-meltdown at a state high school tournament in Glens Falls in the late 1980s.

"I remember the camera came on, man, and my mind went blank,'' he said. "I couldn't remember any names. I couldn't remember anything.''

I was there. Frazier looked as if he were going to pass out.

He overcame such nervousness in part by working on his vocabulary so he could articulate his thoughts in a short period.

"I remembered words in threes,'' he said. "That made it easier to get the words in.''

His trademark rhymes, he said, "were because Jim Karvellas didn't give me a chance to do much more. I knew he'd have to catch his breath sometimes, so I'd say, 'He's ubiquitous! They're shaking and baking! They're wheeling and dealing!'

"Because if I stumbled, he'd say, 'Excuse me, Walt,' and he'd just talk right over me.''

Frazier has shown a willingness to articulate disgust with lousy basketball. He said it helps that he has no relationships with current players, saying little more than "hello'' to them.

What about management? Some viewers have accused him of pulling punches over the years.

"They leave me alone,'' he said. "The only thing is: Just don't kill a dead horse. Articulate what's going wrong, but don't continue to pound on it.''

With two years left on his contract, Frazier said he has no plans to retire, and like everyone else, he is looking forward to what 2010-11 might bring.

The benefit of covering a winning team after all these years is obvious: "You don't have to be so redundant,'' he said, "about what they're not doing.''