At least, that's what the score may as well have read. I'm not even going to lie to you. I don't know what the end of this game looks like aside from the NBA.com recap.
Today marked the first time I'd turned off a New York Knicks basketball game in disgust during Mike D'Antoni's coaching tenure. While a loss is a loss whether by 1 or 100, The Pro--... ummm... Shamed Franchise truly made me embarrassed to be a Knicker Lover for the first time in forever this afternoon.
Halfway through the third quarter I said to myself, "Fuck this ho-ass shit," and turned to the Jets game. They lost too. Awesome New York sports day, right?
While I knew I was watching a hopeless blowout in the making, I had no idea I'd check the box score to discover a 50-point loss to half of the Dallas Mavericks.
Initially, the Knicks appeared as if they might have been interested in taking a run at the depleted Mavericks roster. When Jared Jeffries' 12-point first quarter performance had finally sunk in, I realized that he might have been the only Knick who didn't wake up thinking "Oh, shit! No Jason Kidd? No Erick Dampier? We got this, my nigga."
As Mike Breen and Kelly Tripucka joked about Jeffries having a magical night like that special needs kid who drilled like 6 three pointers in one game, I couldn't help but think how a stagnant offense caused the NBA's worst offensive player to go nut.
Forgive me, I shouldn't talk about Manute Bol's special day like that.
Instead of playing with any semblance of pride or respect for the game of basketball that has made them rich men, the Knicks rolled over--giving Dallas its largest margin of victory in franchise history. Their absolute disinterest in defense made Rodrigue Beaubois look like Nate fucking Archibald. J.J. Barea might as well have been Bob Cousy. I was actually unable to watch the infamous Boston Massacre, but this had to have been worse. Not only did this atrocity happen on the Madison Square Garden floor--it happened to an obviously more capable team than the chum bucket that took 45 to the face in Beantown.
Perhaps hanging tough with the Los Angeles Lakers a mere 38 hours before tip-off gave the entire Knick roster Rick James-like delusions of grandeur. I absolutely felt as if I was being told to fuck my own couch. I would normally recap the previous game at this time, but what's the point? The Knicks played the Mavericks as if Friday night's nationally televised game--and the 41 before it--had never taken place.
David Lee may have just watched that All-Star nod get away like the basketball that smacked Jeffries in the face after one of his signature blown layups. I have grown to appreciate Jeffries, but I'll be damned if he doesn't have two special moves--one of which being luring an opponent into a charge. Were Jeffries an NBA Jam character, his Turbo moves would be a dazzling array of missed baskets from point-blank range.
Today's game was not a loss. Even blowouts are part of NBA life. The Knicks smeared on the proverbial lipstick and signaled to the rest of professional basketball that they are prison bitches whom one can safely assume will acquiesce themselves to the vilest degree of sadism imaginable.
I can't even pretend to fucks with that.
(Return to The Proud Franchise)
I play ball on Sundays from noon to 2pm so I only caught the 2nd half. How depressing. Seriously, thought I was going to gun myself down right there.
Posted by: Gilbert Subpoenas | Monday, January 25, 2010 at 11:12 AM
It was one awful day but D'Antoni will right the ship. I am frankly surprised at how much he's gotten out of the team to begin with the past year and a half.
Posted by: Gamblingdiaries.blogspot.com | Monday, January 25, 2010 at 04:14 PM