The following is a dramatized letter, written by a fictional fan, based on true facts and events.
My Dearest Knicks,
This isn’t easy. But there are some things I’ve needed to tell you. It’s time for the truth.
I haven’t been happy in years, and I don’t see it getting better.
Sometimes I think I can get over the seemingly endless defeats. I try to see past the way you carelessly splurge our money away and the long nights you spend on the road. But I just can’t do it anymore. I just can’t.
When was the last time we were happy? 2000? Even then, it only ended in heartbreak.
Frankly, you’ve been acting strange since Ewing’s last stand. What was with all that Latrell Sprewell stuff anyway? That was so weird. You didn’t fool me then, and you aren’t fooling me now.
It’s just more of the same. How could you let Jeremy Lin walk like that? I loved him. Linsanity...hello, were you sleepwalking through that entire honeymoon? He was everything to me; the kid we found hanging around waiting to average 18.5 and 7.5 during his 26 games as an everyday player.
And for what? Stale ole Raymond “out-of-shape, been-here-before” Felton, who just recently managed to sniff double digits in a wasted season in Portland.
Oh, and I’ll never forget the day you tried to throw the old man’s blanket over my eyes with Jason “Kidd.” Yeah, I Googled him. And what do ya know, it showed me everything I needed to see. Everything. He’ll turn age 40 this season. Four-ty! He had 6.2 points and 5.5 assists, playing just 48 games last season.
Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Did you think I wouldn’t care?
How about I keep going? I don’t want to forget to mention 38-year-old Marcus “I actually played at UMass so long ago they were still good” Camby and 40-year-old Kurt “No, I am not a coach, I am actually still playing” Thomas.
It’s all just become too much. I can’t stand to be with you anymore, watching you fall deeper into your gloom and trying to fill my head with lies. Simple, devastating lies.
You swear you’ll change. You swear it will be different. But it’s just the same games.
We used to have so much fun together. When we got Carmelo...I’m not going to lie, that was special. But the love fest wasn’t built to last.
So here we are again, already relying on the bad legs of Amar'e Stoudemire, and ready to pick-and-roll with excuses. Talk about high maintenance.
Now I’m stuck hoping for a return of the old you. I won’t hold my dribble. You didn’t actually think that crowding a roster filled with names from the '90s would fool me back into thinking about the golden days, did you?
Oh, those glory days of the Ewing Era. Those were such good times. A decade’s worth of playoff glory. The '90s. We were so young, so vibrant, so Spike Lee.
What happened to us? Sure, we never “won it all”...but you can’t tell me we didn’t have a good time trying. Michael Jordan, Hakeem Olajuwon, Tim Duncan...it wasn’t easy.
This part might be the hardest to tell you, but it’s time I come clean. I’ve hardly been faithful. My eyes drifted and stayed locked on that tall blond in Dallas all the way through the 2011 championship. Heck, I was close to a fling with the Heat if it wasn’t for my hatred of LeBron.
OK, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.
Of course I still care deeply for you. Maybe I always will, I don’t know. But I have to be honest with myself and with you.
We’ve grown apart. We no longer want the same things.
I’m sorry to do this in writing, but I can’t stand another offseason of blue-and-orange propaganda. We can’t keep up with the rest of the league’s teams and their ever-blossoming talent.
These veterans don’t make us better; they make us worse. And I can’t stick around to watch my hopes be crushed by reality. Not again.
I know you won’t have a hard time finding someone. I just hope you treat them better.
You probably won’t even notice I’m gone.
- Knicks fan
P.S. I hope we can still be friends.
If you want to be friends with Jimmy Spencer on Twitter, follow him @jimmypspencer