Five Things We Saw
- If you’ve got a DVR or a torrent or whatever, missed tonight’s game and were thinking of watching it later, do yourself a favor and fuggedaboutit. Even though they won by twenty, it was as aesthetically pleasing as the New York City Sanitation Strike of 1968 when mounds of garbage caught fire and strong winds whirled the filth through the streets. Appropriately enough, Detroit appeared to wave the white flag at the beginning of the third quarter, signaling extended gar-BAJZ time. We should all write Lawrence Frank a nice thank you note for the easy victory, but it was fairly unpleasant to sit through.
- Since both teams were literally going through an extended practice session, we did lift the curtain a little on the mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a Motel 6 curtain that is Walt “Clyde” Frazier. Breen lamented the lack of mustaches these days as opposed to the goat rocked by Smith, Woodson et al. Apparently no one’s told Breenie that mustaches are pretty much banished to the realm of hipster a-holes and…er…gentlemen who prefer gentlemen. Clyde then told us that even in the off-season, his college coach told him if he continued to sport a mustache, he wouldn’t eat. There was a game going on (if an awful one) so we never did discover exactly how Clyde’s coach would keep food from Clyde but it certainly conjured images of a creepily Spartan/Fascistic jock dorm in which the underclassmen wash and darn the seniors’ socks whilst clad only in their tighty whiteys while their upper lips are inspected for forestation. Did that just cross the line into the homoerotic? Moving on…Clyde also referred to Jorts’ seriously old-skool hook shot as, “Ah-NACK-air-us” and reminded us how much he digs, “CHAR-clit.” Outstanding!
- One new wrinkle we saw tonight — the high/low post offense. For a large part of the third quarter, the Knicks had varying combinations of Chandler, Amar’e and Melo receive the ball in the high post while the other big on the floor established position five feet from the rim. It worked like a charm, and directly led to easy baskets. It’s definitely a deviation from whatever bastardized version of Seven Seconds or Less that we’ve seen the past four seasons. Against a team with a bit more frontcourt fortitude than the Pistons, it might not be as devastatingly eftective, but it’s a new, and interesting gizmo in the ‘Bockers’ toolbox. See that? I just talked hoops there. No arcane references. No overwrought sentences. Mama’s gonna be proud.
- And then there’s Michael Rappaport. I’ve never been a big fan of his work but in the “genuine New Yorker” ouvre, he’s certainly carved out a niche. He is a die-hard Knicks fan, did some yeoman work on MTV’s Rock and Jock basketball (though he and Mike Breen, who arbited said game had words. There’s no YouTube footage of Rock and Jock or I’d link. The prior fact just makes me sad), and as a celebrity who falls somewhere between the C and D list, he merited an interview at the half. Some meaningless pablum and then BOOM.
Jill Martin: What do you think of Tim Tebow?
Rappaport You’se know like…two qb’s…Sanchez..blargh…mumble…Tebow should find himself a nice Dominican wife!
Wait…what? Even if I had a dog-eared copy of Paulo Friere’s “Pedagogy of the Opressed and a score of Critical Race Theory scholars by my side, I couldn’t even begin to parse/unpack that whopper of a statement. I’m so confused…
- Alas, this game didn’t alleviate any of the concerns raised by the execrable effort in Toronto. The spacing issues, the turnovers (Dear Agni, the turnovers) and the awful free throw shooting were all still scarily present. That won’t cut the mustard when the Sausage-Makers from Milwaukee come to town Monday. Get it? Mustard, sausage…Milwaukee! I’ll show myself out…