So I actually witnessed last Wednesday’s execrable effort v. the Canadians in person with my father in tow. It was a blight of a ballgame but reminded me oh-so-clearly how things have changed.
As you may know, the Knicks played atrociously. By the start of the third quarter, when the Knicks were clinging to a small lead, we both started to prepare ourselves for a loss. A dreary mid-season affairs such as this one, filled with missed opportunities that allow a lesser opponent to hang around, tend to end badly. Like a play we’ve seen countless times before, we were both pretty sure that Hamlet wasn’t getting out of this one alive.
Dad and I also couldn’t help but be struck by the bells and whistles: T-shirt cannons, prizes and blaring music that erupted during every stoppage of play. It’s a different era and a different time. Then again, even though the renovated Garden is much prettier than the one of my childhood, I actually miss the grim fluorescent lighting and the grimy walls. That Garden, tattered yet lovable, seemed like the proper setting for rogue-ish regulars and would-be outlaws like myself.
The full article can be found here, unless on Thursday you trotted down to your local Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind-type memory eraser shoppe and would just as well not recall the worst game of the season, thank you very much.