For a few years, since at least the early pandemic but perhaps dating a little earlier, I’ve kept a note in my phone, the start of which you see above. It’s called “Things I will pay top dollar for,” with “top dollar” essentially being the amount I am willing to pay that will not bankrupt me. The list is fairly extensive, and you can’t see the rest of it.

As you may have guessed based on the timing and general tenor of the so far text-heavy image and preceding graf, tonight I get to cross the top item, the very reason for its creation, off of that list.

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One of my greatest weaknesses is an inability to remain calm; even when silent, my hands are shaking, or my feet are bouncing, or my eyes are darting. Because of the prolonged, unnecessary chaos happening in previously functional communities here and abroad, this is now my default state.

When the going gets tough, sometimes the going has to come to a complete stop. In a summer sponsored by atrocity, brought to you by the same people who convinced your bosses to lay you off or, better, yet, convinced you to get a STEM degree a decade ago before eliminating the sciences in favor of the bomb, it’s been a little difficult to focus on any one thing and even more so for the good.

Acknowledging all of that, though, means acknowledging the rest, the aforementioned good. The candle of joy, wherever and however possible, is now the daily pursuit of millions of us. Maybe we even shared in one of these instances.

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Sam Presti, a man from Massachusetts who split time at colleges before graduating from Emerson and landing with the more or less dynastic San Antonio Spurs of the mid-aughts under Gregg Popovich and R.C. Buford, is 47 years old. Since private equity clown[1] Clay Bennett hired Presti to generally manage the Seattle SuperSonics in 2007, the team has 1) moved cities, which has nothing to do with Presti and everything to do with Bennett, and 2) drafted four (4) NBA Most Valuable Players[2].

Three of them played together in a decisive NBA Finals game thirteen (13) years ago; the fourth plays alone on Sunday night. Drop your phone and stop talking about the Lakers, or Desmond Bane, or wherever you think Ace Bailey is going to land. Ex-Sonic Jeff Green – still active! – will likely be watching. Will you?

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I mean, look: if the Indiana Pacers didn’t win this series after how they won Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Finals, they would be the ones asking themselves about the future. They may still be, what with a matchup against the season-long best squad Oklahoma City Thunder. 

With Tyrese Haliburton (mostly) leading from the front – the chip on his shoulder almost verbally evident – and Pascal Siakam being the egg keeping everything together, Indiana didn’t roll through the 1-seed Cleveland Cavaliers with such ease only to sell out to the New York Knicks.

With a resounding 125-108 home win in Game 6, Indiana took care of business, ending both the series and, via collateral media damage, the NBA on TNT relationship. They face the 68-win Thunder in Game 1 tonight, with the series beginning in OKC.

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If this is to be the last stand of these New York Knicks, so be it, but they’re at least putting a show of faith into each other. Taking control of a must-win game at home early, and holding onto it: the formula, at least for one game.

It’s possible we didn’t learn anything about either of the Knicks or the Indiana Pacers, their opponents in these Eastern Conference Finals, from a 111-94 New York victory on Thursday night, allowing New York to breath for at least another two days while still down 3-2 in the series. The Knicks needed to retain their season, and the Pacers had some burn to burn ahead of a likely Finals matchup with reigning MVP Shai Gilgeous-Alexander and the Oklahoma City Thunder. Another matter for a different pen.

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Going to use the government-issued city + nickname in tandem a few times; I really can’t believe this either.

It’s lost some novelty, but the thought is no shorter on veracity: New York City is never better than a) early summer, overall, and b) when one of the teams that plays at that time is still playing at that time[1]. Watching the Indiana Pacers complete a demonstrative victory against the Cleveland Cavaliers signified that anything was possible, right?

After the injury to Jayson Tatum and subsequent Luke Kornet Revenge Game, it didn’t seem likely that Boston could roll that again this series; in delivering a 119-81 victory at home against the defending champion Celtics, the New York Knicks – yup! – are putting it all together at exactly the right time[2].

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In a stroke of grave and untimely brand crossover misfortune, Jayson Tatum currently features in an ad drawing parallels between Clark Kent in his day-to-day and himself, both of them morphing into Superman when necessary.  At least one of those things, I saw on Monday night; the other, with apologies to the Marvel/DC set, I wasn’t planning on seeing anyway.

Then, with 42 points, eight rebounds, four each of assists and steals[1], but with his Boston Celtics down 111-104 with a little over three minutes left to go, Tatum collapsed on a non-contact scramble for the ball against the New York Knicks’ OG Anunoby, who gathered the rock and dunked to put the Knicks up nine. Tatum grabbed his right ankle, left in a wheelchair, and the rest of us were left looking for Paul Pierce.

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Different, but exactly the same. In a strain of cowardice that echoes fouling Mitchell Robinson for the sake of it when you know he’s burning you, I’m abandoning (most of) what I said after Game 1 except for how that game made me feel, fuck it all: the New York Knicks can do this. Whether I actually believe that…[REDACTED]

The hedges, the ankles, the stomachaches you wait until 3 pm local time to hear about on either team’s injury list; the weirdo, questionable inability to hit open shots at home, as defending champions; and here we are: the New York freaking Knickerbockers lead the aforementioned champion Boston Celtics, having now beaten them twice at home after twice being down by 20 points following Wednesday’s 91-90 win.

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If I had to guess, right now is likely the absolute peak of this New York Knicks season[1]. Surely the odds favor that. Until some team bad enough to do it comes along, the Boston Celtics are the league standard for excellence and efficiency.

This still figures to be a slightly more disorderly slaughter, but a slaughter nevertheless. Nevermind all that: with Patrick Ewing in attendance and everything to prove, Jalen Brunson and his merry band of shithousers stepped right up and snatched one off the register in front of the Celtics’ eyes.

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