It is March 11, 64 games into the season, only 18 left to play.
The team I once idolized has now betrayed me. As any fanatic feels hurt when a player gets hurt, as any fan feels down when their team loses, as any person feels pride when their hometown team wins, it is hard not to get sucked into the whirlwind.
It is hard to believe that a once esteemed franchise is now the laughing stock of the sports world. When I was seven years old they made history, being the first No. 8 seed to make it to the finals. They made history when the first African- American to play in the National Basketball Association signed with them.
The glorious New York Knickerbockers are now history. The days of Willis Reed and Patrick Ewing have been replaced by an overweight nice guy, Eddy Curry. The passion has now been replaced with sexual harassment suits and hissy fits. The love of the game comes down to money. It is sad to see what has become of my beloved Knicks.
It is even harder to digest the fact that Isiah Thomas is still in New York and James Dolan still holds the reigns to a retired horse racing champ. I once had hope. I once believed the Garden was a place where miracles happen. A place where Jamal Crawford scores 52 points on my birthday, a place where David Lee tips in the ball made of leather with only 0.3 seconds on the clock, a place where Nate Robinson can block Yao Ming, it was a place of hope. Hope for the future, hope for the good.
In 1994, John Starks dunked over Michael Jordan and gave the city that never sleeps a rest. In 1985, Patrick Ewing gave a struggling team a glimmer of hope. In 1970 and 1973, they brought a championship back home.
The Knicks are a team of history. They played in the first NBA game ever and are one of the only original franchises remaining. This year they have made history once again, but it is a different kind of history. This season will be marked down in the history books as the most scandalous, the most pain enduring, and the franchise's worst record.
Although it may not seem like it from all the words on this page, for the first time in my life I am speechless when it comes to my Knicks. So thank you Isaiah Thomas and Jim Dolan for ruining the team I once called my own.
We no longer are going to the 'ship', but somehow we have become a sinking ship. The waters call and a lottery pick waits in the treasure chest at the bottom of the ocean. Inside the chest isn't the gold money that Dolan longs for, but it is the pride of NY and a pink slip for the once great point guard.