Endgame. That rabidly morbid Irishman Sam Beckett really hit it on the head. I don’t think he was a Knicks fan. But I’d like to think that if he were alive he’d be watching our embattled hardwood heroes with a wry grin of self-knowledge. I certainly think this exchange could be situated in the blue seats at MSG w/o any difficulty…
Nell: Nothing is funnier than unhappiness.
Nell: Yes, yes, it’s the most comical thing in the world. And we laugh, we laugh, with a will, in the beginning. But it’s always the same thing. Yes, it’s like the funny story we have heard too often, we still find it funny, but we don’t laugh any more.
So forgive your humble correspondent a few sh*ts and giggles in the endgame of another laughably disappointing and utterly familiar failure of a season. In lieu of a coherent thesis, I’ve cobbled together some semi-connected thoughts that’ve been rattling around in the ol’ bean Larry King/Lupica style, with a few obscure references/mixed metaphors to spice up the brew.
Bill Walker is a Golden God. And he will eat your children. It’s nice, isn’t it? Bill Walker out of nowhere has entered the temple, named himself rabbi-in-chief, thrown out the moneylenders and proceeded to march to Bethlehem on a road of opponent’s bones.
I’ve always been fascinated by players like “Sky” Walker. (Sorry Kenny, you can share your fancy nickname, Kid N’ Play fade notwithstanding: http://i.cdn.turner.com/si/multimedia/photo_gallery/0902/nba.dunk.contest.winners/images/1989-kenny-walker.jpg) Perhaps it’s because I’ve had to sit through so many godawful seasons w/this club, or maybe it’s my underdog-lovin’ soul, but during these desultory endgames, invariably an innocuous 12th man/CBA callup will catch fire, inspiring dreams of a Chorus Girl to Headliner/”Flo Zeigfeld’s in the house tonight” rocket ship to superstardom. I was similarly pie-eyed over Qyntel “Must Love Dogs” Woods (“He’s the Next Tracy McGrady!”) and Jackie Butler (“He’s Oliver Miller reincarnate!) not to mention Ime Udoka (“He’s another Bruce Bowen! With fewer dirty plays!”), Lee Nailon (He’s Jamal Mashburn 2.0!), and even Kurt “Crazy Eyes” Thomas, who, once upon a time, was basically left for dead by Riley/Miami after his knees turned to guacamole. So press on Billy. Odds are, this is a blip on an otherwise uneventful career, but like Starks and Mason before ye, in one word – youneverknow.
Is there a worse sportswriter in Christendom than Marc Berman? I’ll spare you the burdensome reminder that he is a Murdoch employee, but, odds bodkins, is he an utter hack! I know that it’s only sportswriting, I’m not asking for Sy Hersh to become a ‘Bockers Beat writer but please, can someone stop this man from outright making stuff up? Like this recent blog entry: “Walsh, D’Antoni not on same page.” A semi-literate reader might presume that the article would include things like, I dunno, quotes that showed the two gentlemen in disagreement about this particular subject. But lo! Berman’s only “evidence” is that he, Berman thinks Walsh thinks MD’A could’ve done better with a mismatched collection of expiring contracts and rookies. How that makes them “at odds” is beyond me. Then he brings up the Marbury benching (quelle surprise). Ok, Maybe now he’ll have a quote that Walsh was against the move. That wouldn’t make the GM and coach “at odds” in the present considering it happened 1.5 years ago, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. Alas, no quote re:Stephon. Moving on, he writes that both parties were psyched to have Milicic only the coach “marburyed” him. Was Walsh against benching Milicic? Did he press Mike to play him? Well, if Berman knows he ain’t telling. And then you get a few snipes at Gallo and a suggestion that McGrady is only playing for himself and the team won’t get LeBron to close the entry. Fascinating thoughts indeed, but they have NOTHING TO DO WITH THE “THESIS” OF THE BLOG ENTRY. If you want to read it yourself, be my guest. But you better have some of that Lava Soap with pumice if you want to rid yourself of the stench afterwards. http://www.nypost.com/p/blogs/knicksblog/walsh_antoni_not_on_same_page_jbxRTUIRcH5ljbDHxbMM8L
If this were a singular occurrence, fine. But this is what he does, day in and day out. He manufactures or imagines conflict/”drama’ where none exists. And I won’t even get into his super-special BFF relationship w/Marbs. Ok, I will. It’s downright creepy at this point. The guy’s in China for the love of pete. Berman’s like a jilted lover who hacks into his/her ex’s facebook page/email to see what she’s really up to.
Worst Uni/logo combo in La Liga? OKC Thunder. It’s borderline criminal that Durant has to walk around in public in these duds. Forgive my sartorial musings, but if you name a team the Thunder, doesn’t sky/light blue seem like a ridonculous choice? Color scheme notwithstanding, the logo/font makes it look like they got those unis on the cheap from some Tulsa AAU team. And if you don’t want to call the team “the Cyclones” as was previously leaked, because there are a lot of people in OKC who, you know, died because of cyclones, isn’t “Thunder” just as insensitive?
Is it me or does Gallo get whacked every time he drives the lane? Not being hyperbolic here – every freaking time and nary a peep from the refs. Maybe it’s because he kinda runs like a guy who’s had a few too many being chased by the cops. The only logical explanation I can think of is that when his arms and legs are flailing wildly (in directions often oppositional to his forward motion) and he’s pinging off defenders on his way to the rim, to the refs, he’s “initiating” the contact. Or they just hate Italians. This of course, is par for the course. The last Knick who “got the calls” was Ewing. And even then, his only indulgence was being allowed to take an extra step or two when he launched one of those trusty hook shots of his going from the baseline to the pivot.
End of rant. Even with my multitude of gripes/harangues, I’ll watch this thing to the bitter end, probably laughing and not laughing all the way. Beckett would approve.