Michael Sweetney overcoming darkest Knicks moments at Yeshiva: ‘I’m changing lives’

Many turn right at the base of the ground-floor staircase, past the Torah-emblazoned Yeshiva University logos and toward the dining hall and dorm rooms. Most turn left into Furst Gymnasium.

The track above the court — connected by a spiral staircase — has been cleared. Before you hit the restroom, three vending machines dutifully serve concessions beside a pingpong table. Slowly, the roughly 800-seat bleachers fill up. Tickets aren’t necessary. Come one, come all.

The “Star-Spangled Banner” plays. Then, the Israeli national anthem. Michael Sweetney takes a seat on the bench. An assistant, he is Yeshiva’s only coach without a yarmulke, the only gentile on its sideline, the only NBA presence in the Division III game.

The Knicks’ former lottery pick is a perfect fit.

It was in the midst of his childhood dream when nothing made sense.

“I was on a billboard in the middle of Times Square and my family was all excited and taking pictures, and I felt nothing. That’s how dark of a place I was in,” Sweetney said. “To think of that person back then, 21 years old, money in the bank, fame, playing for the Knicks and you’re not happy. It’s like, wow.

“Now, you don’t have all of that. But you have happiness.”

Long before Sweetney, 37, was married with three children — long before he became an assistant coach at Yeshiva and head coach of the girls varsity team at the Ramaz School on the Upper East Side — the former Georgetown star was in Cleveland, choosing to end his life.

A rapid spiral that began with Sweetney’s father’s, Samuel, fatal heart attack before his first training camp with the Knicks in 2003, led the lost and struggling rookie to ingest numerous painkillers, hoping he would never wake.

“I was going through depression. I honestly thought I would never get out of it,” Sweetney said. “When I share the story, as I’m talking, it’s still amazing to me this was going on. As an athlete, pride got in the way. I was fighting myself. I didn’t speak up. I kept it hidden and it became a snowball effect.

“Before my father[’s death], life was great. He came to every game. He was always there. I buried my father like two days before training camp. There was no time to digest it at all. Losing him, then coming to a basketball situation that wasn’t going the way I wanted, I’d never dealt with adversity.”

The Knicks had a 1.5 percent chance of landing LeBron James in the 2003 NBA Draft. They had a 1.77 percent chance at the No. 2 pick and a 2.14 percent chance at the No. 3 pick, in a class including Dwyane Wade, Carmelo Anthony and Chris Bosh. The Knicks picked ninth, and received rare cheers at the Theater at Madison Square Garden when Sweetney was selected.

The undersized power forward appeared in just 42 games as a rookie. He made 28 starts in his second season — averaging 8.4 points and 5.4 rebounds in 19.6 minutes — then was traded to the Bulls.

Depression followed Sweetney to Chicago. Eating served as treatment. He surpassed 370 pounds. His final NBA game came before he turned 25.

“If your mind isn’t right, your body will follow,” Sweetney said. “My wife was the only one who knew [about the depression] because she would see it firsthand. I became a professional at masking. She saw the real person at home that was crying and a wreck.

“For a long time I regretted how a lot happened here in New York. I thought great things were gonna happen, but when you’re in New York and not playing well you’re gonna hear about it. I wish I could’ve gotten some help and gotten healthy. I could’ve had a 10-year career if I did that.”

Instead, Sweetney spent eight years playing in places like China, the G-League, Uruguay, Venezuela, Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic and The Basketball Tournament. He began counseling after receiving the most important call of his life a decade ago.

“I think the turning point was when my wife told me she was pregnant with my first son,” Sweetney said. “I knew I had to make a change for him. There was no way I could be that person for him and be an example for him.”

The pain kept hidden for so long is now constantly shared with strangers. Sweetney proudly serves as a mental health advocate, speaking at schools, conferences, businesses and anywhere.

“That’s my main passion, suicide prevention talks, helping students out, doing public speaking every chance I get,” Sweetney said. “I just share everything I’ve been through and hope I can change some lives. People relate to it. People want to get help.

“I’ve become a mentor to a lot of people. Now, I’m changing lives and saving lives. It’s awesome. It’s overwhelming. I never would’ve thought the worst point in my life would turn into one of my best points.”

Sweetney loves to teach. He always wanted to coach. He never envisioned it would be as a fixture in the Jewish basketball community.

When Tamir Goodman —nicknamed the “Jewish Jordan” as a high school star in Maryland — moved to Israel three years ago, he asked his old friend, Sweetney, to run his basketball camp in the Poconos.

“That changed everything,” Sweetney said. “My career ended kind of quick. I didn’t know what was next. And that opened so many doors. I started doing clinics, camps, traveling, speaking gigs. Next thing I know, the last few years, everything has been in the Jewish community. And they are just great people.”

When Sweetney’s wife’s career in the film industry brought the family to New Jersey in the spring, Goodman called another friend, Elliott Steinmetz, Yeshiva’s head coach.

“He said Mike was looking to get into coaching, and asked if I knew anything in the area,” Steinmetz said. “I said, ‘Do I know anything in the area? If he’s looking to get into coaching, I got a spot.”

“I’ve become a mentor to a lot of people. Now, I’m changing lives and saving lives. It’s awesome. It’s overwhelming. I never would’ve thought the worst point in my life would turn into one of my best points.” — Michael Sweetney

The initial sight of the former Knick — now slimmed down to 285 pounds — at the Washington Heights campus was strange.

“When I first heard it, I was like, ‘How the heck did he get here?’ But it was exciting,” senior forward Gabriel Leifer said. “He’s a great guy and a great coach. He’s someone we all feel comfortable talking to. He’s very calm, very relaxed.

“He’s really helped me a lot, just learning the game and showing me little things that make the biggest difference. It doesn’t take as much to get his message across because everyone’s listening. We all know he has something important to offer.”

The Maccabees (12-1) made their first NCAA Tournament two years ago. This season, they are off to their best start since joining the NCAA in 1956 and on a 12-game winning streak.

“I’d never seen a D-III game and the talent level shocked me,” Sweetney said. “Obviously, they’re here because of their religious beliefs, but there’s a few guys that could be playing Division I.”

Basketball in New York is as fulfilling as Sweetney always hoped it could be.

“It’s not just about X’s and O’s. Sometimes you need to see if a guy is going through something and pick them up,” Sweetney said. “It’s been a great experience. I’m happy here. I’m comfortable here. I’m treated well here. It’s been amazing.

“To be happy and be at peace, I would’ve been shocked. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible.”

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