I know what I wrote about 8 hours ago. But my Knicks have won 7 straight. They have 11 games left. To win the title, it's the first to get 16 games in the playoffs. Add that up and you have 34, one more than the relevant number that was recently threatened by Miami (and, yes, I know it only applies to the regular season, but, remember, you're indulging me right now).
I don't really expect them to win 34 straight, but that's the thing about sports. It's a child's game, played by multimillionaires, and you're basically rooting for laundry. Yet it gives you something to get excited about, even if it ultimately has no real impact on your life. I have been a Knicks fan from the beginning. They have not won a title in my time on this ball of dirt. They have generally fielded competitive teams, but you always kind of knew that they weren't good enough. There was the heartbreak of Game 5 of the 1993 Eastern Conference Finals (I remember having tears after that one, and feeling wounded for days afterwards). There was being shot out of a title in Game 7 of the '94 Finals. The brawl in the 1997 playoffs with the Heat, and all the suspensions that came afterwards that derailed a pretty good team. The exciting run in '99, only to realize that they had no shot against the Spurs without Ewing. There was the Jordan roadblock. Now there is Lebron. There was Isiah, and Dolan before, during and after. The atrocious Allan Houston contract. Then there was $100 million for Amar'e after Lebron turned us down, only to see D'Antoni run him into the ground in half a season (he has been injury prone ever since). A tough road, and clearly Lebron has elevated himself to another level which makes the prospect of beating him 4 times in May (in fact, any May going forward) fairly dim.
So, while the commentary doesn't totally fit for Knicks fans (we haven't suffered quite so much), Bill Simmons offered some profound words to his friend Marc Stein, a long-suffering Manchester City fan a few years back that felt appropriate right now:
"Yeah, I get it. You're not even that mad. You just feel empty inside. You head into every big game assuming you will lose, and when it happens, it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. You claim that you have your guard up, only deep down, that guard is lowered just enough that you're hoping against hope that THIS game will be different. Only it never is. "I get it," I said. I tried to explain to Steiny Mo that these things can turn only in the most dramatic of ways. It will never be a typical win. It will be a life experience. It will break you down in sections. It will take you to the abyss and back. You will have to be stripped of any and all hope, and then — and only then — will you see a light. That's the way these things work."
Anyway, time to wake up.
