I realized I needed to calm down when Bud turned and gave me a wide-eyed, uncertain stare.
It was the fourth quarter of the NBA Finals’ second game, and the San Antonio Spurs were chipping away at the New York Knicks’ lead with ample help from the referees.
The Spurs collapsed in as the Knicks’ Karl Anthony Towns (KAT, or Big Kat as he’s fondly known) drove the lane, pummeling him and grabbing at his shooting hand while the refs just watched.
It had been happening all night. Spurs star Victor Wembanyama even grabbed a much smaller Knicks player by the neck and tossed him at one point without so much as a peep from the refs.
(Above: 7’4″ Spurs center Victor Wembanyama grabs 6-foot Knicks points guard Jose Alvarado by the neck and tosses him. The refs did nothing.)
I shouted something not nice as the refs ignored the bludgeoning and the Spurs barreled down the other end for another bucket.
Then I saw Bud’s alarmed face and his uncertain crouch.
“Aw, sh–,” I said, softening my tone and doing my best to sound reassuring. “Not you, Bud. I love you, little guy.”
I held out my fingers, Bud rubbed his cheek against them happily, and we returned to watching the game as I scratched his head.
Still, it was a much-needed reminder that our little pals look to us for emotional cues, and our bad moods have a profound impact on them.
I will never forget what my brother observed one day when Buddy was still a kitten: “You’re his whole world.”
Bud likes to pretend otherwise, of course, but the point stands. He picks up on everything, and it is deeply unfair for me to allow any outside emotions to impact him. Making sure he’s happy means everything to me.
The comedian Bill Burr has a bit about this, putting it in more crude — but much more hilarious — terms:
Happily, despite the abominable officiating, the Knicks won the game. They have now won 13 games in a row in the playoffs (!), they haven’t lost a game in six weeks, and after defeating the Spurs twice on their home court, the Knicks return to New York two wins away from being NBA champions…for the first time in 53 years.
It’s not only a big deal to me and millions of New Yorkers, it’s something I’ve wanted so badly since I was a kid watching the Knicks reach the Finals in 1994 and 1999, falling agonizingly short both times.
Wembanyama, San Antonio’s best player, is a towering 7’4″ and doesn’t even have to jump to dunk the basketball, while the Knicks’ best player is Jalen Brunson, who at six feet tall is diminutive by NBA standards.
Wembanyama was the number one pick in his draft, already hailed as the future of the sport before he set foot on the hardwood. Brunson was the 33rd pick in the second round in his draft class, an afterthought who wasn’t predicted to be anything more than a bench player at best.
When the Knicks signed Brunson four years ago, the entire sports world laughed. One ESPN “expert” insisted the idiot Knicks had pinned their hopes on a “role player,” while another compared Brunson to one of the team’s all time great busts. A third declared the Knicks would never win anything with Brunson leading the team.
And yet here we are on the cusp of history. The Knicks aren’t just two games from a championship, and they haven’t merely punched their ticket to the Finals. They have absolutely obliterated every team they’ve faced, sweeping the last two series and winning by a margin of almost 24 points per game.
But it ain’t over until they win it, so I’m heartened by what the Knicks’ KAT and Mikal Bridges both said after the last two games: they’re treating each game as if they have no lead, as if they must fight tooth and nail to save their season. They are not resting on their laurels, they’re not taking anything for granted, and they refuse to underestimate their opponents.
So let’s hope they win two more and finally bring a championship home, at which time Bud and I will partay!
Pain In The Bud 