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Tag Archives: New York Knicks

New York Rangers fans themselves present with such variance that I never really know who or what is happening when they show up, even when watching a game in suspected good company, until they’re finished with an unsolicited monologue during a 0-0 second period, or until the Rangers score or surrender a goal – this is the style of critically-intensive, or at least intense, brand of Rangers fan I most encounter, who explodes in rage or laughs in sorrow, similarly red-faced in either case.

The Blueshirts went up 3-0 against the Carolina Hurricanes, one of the teams they specifically battled for the Presidents’ Trophy and, with it, the rights to home ice throughout the playoffs, and then lost two straight to force an anxious Game 6 in Raleigh.

With the familiar so close, the agony, the defiance, the broken brunch matinee that the Rangers being in a game 7 means for playoff hockey ratings, with Gary Bettman presumably seething over his hatred of hockey’s organic growth; with all of it staring them in the face, only a miraculous effort would save New York. Well then.

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As diabolical as Google searches have so quickly become recently, I’ll take a chance on the Industrial Metal and Supply Co. of California and concur that iron has a melting point of 2,800 degrees Fahrenheit. At some point, then, with enough energy driving it on either side, iron begins melting against iron.

The point is, it’s not a toughness thing: iron wears down either way. Having sharpened themselves against an MVP-level Joel Embiid and a noticeably heightened Tyrese Maxey, the New York Knicks pulled out an improbable six-game victory in the first round.

Against exact counterpoints in the Indiana Pacers – the fastest team in the NBA, whenever Tyrese Haliburton was in the lineup – the Knicks tried to grind the opponent again, only to now find themselves, “Metamorphasis”-like, ground. A parsimonious Knicks offense just kept losing options. In the spirit of the ’90s series preceding this one, the Pacers are more survivors than winners.

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There was no foreseeable way this would keep up, and indeed, the cracks are beginning to show. However: every other night in New York City, you can expect to catch a competitor. It’s been a decade since the Knicks and Rangers were so similarly relevant that they warranted the ice-to-hardwood changeover videos of Madison Square Garden to return. 

Last Tuesday, an exhaustingly frantic game down the stretch saw the Rangers blow the lead to the Carolina Hurricanes, favored in the series. Former number one overall pick Alexis Lafrenière, previously a scapegoat who just enjoyed his best season in the NHL, scored twice, but the night’s dough was only on the rise.

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“You’re doing it for your teammates, you’re doing it for the team, you’re doing it for the fans, and you’re doing it for yourself.” – Willis Reed

We can’t deviate from the path. We all have to be on the same team, we all have to have the same mindset to continue to move forward together…To the fans: You make a difference for us. I just want to make that abundantly clear. Without you, the Knicks aren’t the Knicks.” – Jalen Brunson

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Bobcats waive Ben Gordon after playoff eligibility ends - CBSSports.com

It’s endemic of having grown up around a team that had to fight for every positive the national light chose to shine, but when someone hits a weird enough record such that it matches Ben Gordon, I start to wonder. Rides in other people’s cars gave me sufficient exposure to the Ben Gordon Experience, before, during and after the period in which he was a Charlotte Bobcat. I liked watching him.

To see a player match something he did – we’re talking about Jalen Brunson going 9-for-9 from three, in on his way to scoring 50 points in leading the New York Knicks to a win over the Phoenix Suns last Friday night – brought a smile to my face, something that is fleeting in this year, as we turn to the next.

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Welcome back. Depending on how you count the attempt at satire written in the midst of an early life crisis in 2014, and with apologies to the time in between the 2019-’20 season and 2020-’21 – spacing more questionable than the 2013-’14 Knicks, incidentally, but with a much more logical explanation – this is the tenth time we’ll be previewing every NBA team, so for those of you here from the jump, I must express some measure of appreciation.

A reminder, and a reintroduction: if you don’t know but you’ve been here this long, Robert Horry’s name is pronounced with a silent-H (‘Orry). His name is his name. He has more rings than Jordan, if that’s your thing, and he hit several of the most important shots in league history, with apologies only via volume in both directions to Kings fans and the Kyrie hive. 

Getting back to the point: you heard about him for years in the French leagues too, right? And even before that? Ah, so you saw what his wingspan could end up being? Not unlike the Burger King jingle that mutates each fortnight but remains an earsore in every iteration, the midseason tournament is coming for all of us: growth is the only mindset.

Watch your own fire burn as mine does. A model like yours? Nothing better. Just you wait and see:

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1, 2, 3…

At his core, he was a dancer. If Kobe was the Baryshnikov of his era, Carmelo Anthony was Albert Torres, engaging defenders at the elbow in a perpetual tango evoking their shared Puerto Rican roots. A step forward, a feint with his elbow, a half-pivot, then: gone, with the duck of his sweatband-adorned head. It was one of the seemingly endless ways Anthony could score; it didn’t look effortless, but, like a choreographed routine done right, it usually looked like he was having fun.

Except to older heads whose respect he ended up earning anyway, it doesn’t much matter that the biggest win of Carmelo Anthony’s career happened before he ever made it to the NBA. Everybody wants to win – of course – but winning was never the most interesting nor important thing about Anthony himself. On the day when the team that drafted him bounced the last team he played for from the playoffs, Anthony announced his retirement.

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This past Christmas, I was in Oklahoma with my oldest, not older, brother, taking in several of the NBA games that were on TV. They were there at my request, but several of our fellow patrons got into it; suffice to say, we identified a Kobe Guy. Two days later we would be at Paycom watching a Thunder-Spurs game that you’ve already forgotten; I doubt we ever will.

For what ended up being my family’s ad hoc Christmas celebration three months later, we descended upon South Carolina, my parents once again hosting a St. Patrick’s Day party featuring a lot of people I don’t know that well. One of them, a New Jersey transplant and lapsed Knicks fan, unfortunately found herself in a conversation with me, all but yelling at her about Jalen Brunson. 

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If you recognize the image above, you know what’s next.

Louisiana native Willis Reed set Walt Frazier up on his first date after arriving in New York City – that’s Walt Frazier, a guy who put out an entire book on the idea of cool. A few years in the league under his belt, Reed always roomed with rookies in order to show them the ropes. He stopped fights in practice because he knew this team had the juice – they did – if only they could smooth out the vast caverns that separated, say, Rhodes Scholar Bradley from rhyming dictionary scholar Frazier[1], nevermind whatever Phil Jackson was up to that was too weird even for the Knicks of the Age of Aquarius.

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