It has been years since the Knicks were worth following. During that time I was able to read dozens of classics, engage in numerous intelligent discussions, visit museums and perform volunteer work. I was a well rounded, valuable citizen.
Now, all of that goes by the wayside. The Knicks are competitive, their games meaningful and here I am in front of the TV, punching furniture as it heads down the stretch, back and forth. I must wait for a time out to make a cheese sandwich.
Why do men never outgrow their passion for sports? My basketball remains in my trunk, where it's been since I bought it two years ago. I will eventually have to face the fact that my post moves and head fakes aren't what they were. Maybe if I wait on the bench for some kid to come by, some scrawny, knobby-kneed kid, I can challenge him to a one on one. I didn't say it had to be a boy. Girls are a viable challenge for me at this point.
Seven minutes left in the game. Let's go, Carmelo.
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