Helluva Game.
Some of my friends are apoplectic.
We lost by ONE FUCKING BASKET to a really good team. In the opening gambit of chess masters, Nate one upped Thibs.
Julius sucked? Seriously? The Hawks had a game plan, and they played it to perfection. They put some big bods on Julius and did not allow him to get into any sort of rhythm.
Trae. F-U? Really Knicks fans? F-U?
FUCK YOU, KNICKS FANS. Haven't you motherfuckers learned ANYTHING from the past. Reggie? Let sleeping dogs lie, motherfuckers.
And what was Thibs' game plan for Trae? Fifteen seconds of Frank at the end of each half. Come off the bench ice cold and stop a master penetrator? We denied him the long range game [1-3 from trey], but he was unstoppable and FAR MORE DENAGEROUS off of his P&R penetrations breaking down our D [10 assists, Bogdonavich 4-9 from trey], his floaters, and late in the game he got to the FT line at will [9-9]. My thoughts on his final drive past Frank? Where was the double? Should have made him give up the ball, force someone else to beat us.
Everyone wants to put it on Julius? Or obsess over the snakebit Mister Payton?
ALL OF OUR starters had a rough night, not just Julius. Reggie and RJ [who had his customary second half moments] were 9-24 and a combined 1-11 from three.
Our starting PF and center got 15 boards and two blocks. Capella and Collins combined for 20 and 4 blocks.
Not nit picking, but in a game decided on the last possession, every little tidbit counts. I mean, if we had been pummelled, I too might be crying real tears. But people Knicks fans who thought this was a coronation? HELLO, these are the playoffs, folks.
You want to nit pick? Want to assign blame?
I don't.
But activating the rear view mirror? Thibs tossing Frank into the fray ice cold. And with 0.9 seconds remaining, Burks inbounding? Our most clutch player of the night? Inbounding to Julius no less for the final shot, and not, oh, say IQ with a three-point heave from the parking lot? But hey, over and done with. Nate schooled Thibs, and the Garden faithful inspired the home town boys, but fired up the ofays ALL THE MORE. Motherfuckers.
PS: Random reflections. Was texting back and forth with
Miras The Merciless last night, and needless to say,
he took it hard. Compared Payton to 1982-83 PG Edmund Sherrod [
https://www.basketball-reference.com/players/s/sheroed01.html] for Biblical ineffectiveness. I drew a blank. "And you call yourself a Knicks fan." I had, in fact, returned to NYC from upstate NY in 1976, a two year old daughter in tow, hustling for work and launching my journey as a freelance musical journalist.
So my focus had shifted, and in fact, I did not really reconnect with the Knicks and competitigve sports until my family relocated to Washington Heights in the spring of 1984, when we had that epic 7 game series against the Celtics, in which neither team could win on the others' home court. I remember thinking at the time, that is was pracically an honor to have Larry Bird kick your ass.
PPS: Ditto, Bernard King. That is to say, vis a vis Bird and Reggie and Alonzo and Trae, RESPECT YOUR OPPONENTS. Again, referencing my brother
Miras, who has been gracious enough to treat me to dinner and a Knicks game a couple of times over the years [as did
MisterEarl]....well, shortly after the Melo trade, we took in a Celtic game at the Garden. Amare and Melo were clicking on all cylinders, and we were up by double figures at half time. Maybe as many as 25 if the dubious dust of memories do not betray me. Ayyway, you know what happens next. The Celtics came back, led by Paul Pierce, who just willed them back into the game. It was impressive, in a painful, to be a Knicks fan is to suffer kind of way. Anyway, the inevitability of what was happenning swept over me, and I was heard to utter, in a spiritual gesture of respect, "May, you've just got to love that Paul Pierce." Miras' carotid attery exploded. "I HATE THAT COCKSUCKER." Er, point taken. Perhaps RESPECT would've been a better call. As in, brining us to the present, RESPECT TRAE YOUNG. A worthy adversary.
PPPS: See you on Wednesday, Trae. And bring your little black box.