RIDICULOUS! History Repeats As The Knicks Lose In The Most Knicks Way Imaginable

Thirty years after the Knicks suffered one of the most humiliating losses in basketball history, it happened again…

The image of Reggie Miller running up and down the court at Madison Square Garden, both hands around his own neck, gleefully screeching “Chokers! Chokers!” is indelibly burned into my brain.

It was May 7, 1995. The Knicks were leading the Indiana Pacers by six points with 18.7 seconds to go. The game was essentially over.

Even though Miller was an excellent shooter, a three-pointer would still leave the Pacers short and the Knicks with a win in the Eastern Conference Finals.

What happened next is still hard to believe all these years later.

Miller hit a three pointer, stole the ball on the inbound pass, bolted back behind the three-point line and hit another three-pointer, tying the game. After two missed free throws and a missed shot by the Knicks, Miller was fouled, made two free throws, and the Pacers won the game.

Miller had just scored 8 points in 8.9 seconds, a feat widely considered impossible, to turn a six-point deficit into a two-point win.

This was the kind of thing that might happen in a video game, not real life.

As a young Knicks fan, I was devastated. Kids raged the next morning as we gathered before the first bell at school. Miller was public enemy number one.

That was 30 years ago, or 10,972 days if you prefer.

Tonight, with Miller calling the game from the broadcast booth, the Knicks and Pacers met once again for game one of the Eastern Conference Finals at Madison Square Garden, just like they did 30 years ago.

New York had a 14-point lead with about two and a half minutes to go. Victory was assured.

Then the Pacers came storming back with three pointer after three pointer, cutting the lead to two. With seconds left on the game clock, the Pacers’ Tyrese Haliburton launched a three pointer, which bounced off the rim high into the air…and came down clean through the hoop.

Just like Miller had three decades ago, Haliburton ran the court at MSG with his hands around his neck, yelling “Chokers!”

It was deja vu. It was a nightmare.

As “luck” would have it, Haliburton’s toe was on the three-point line, rendering his basket a two-pointer that sent the game to overtime.

The crowd tried to rally the Knicks and broke into chants of “F— you, Reggie!” as if to ward off a repeat of history. It didn’t matter. Indiana had all the momentum, and the stunned Knicks couldn’t hold on despite a combined 78 points from the Knicks’ Jalen Brunson and Karl-Anthony Towns.

Absolutely brutal. To rub salt in the wound, my cousins gleefully texted me with taunts like “Oh, the pain of it all!” A small text group consisting of me, my brother and one of our closest childhood friends turned somber. We couldn’t believe this was happening again.

Haliburton, top, and Miller, both mocked the Knicks after improbable wins 30 years apart.

I don’t usually blog about sports, but I feel like I have to release some of this pent up energy. I’d already showered treats upon Bud in celebration and had just given him catnip during a commercial break. We were playing a wand toy game. The mood was jubilant, then it wasn’t. I’m sure little man was confused, but he knows I wasn’t upset at him. Besides, I laughed at how absurd the whole situation was.

After the game, Charles Barkley, legend of the court and the booth, summed up his feelings after watching the ridiculous spectacle: “We get to watch this for our jobs. We’re the luckiest guys on Earth.”

He’s right, although as a lifelong Knicks fan, I don’t feel particularly lucky right now. Let’s hope Lady Luck finally smiles upon a franchise that hasn’t won a damn thing in 50 years and the Knicks turn tonight into nothing more than a bad memory en route to the NBA Finals.

The series, and the rivalry, resumes Friday night at 8 p.m. Whichever team wins the seven-game series will go on to the NBA Finals.

El Capitan, also known as Captain Clutch and The Maestro: Jalen Brunson had 43 points tonight, but it wasn’t enough.
Hart and Soul of the Knicks, Josh Hart, pulled down 13 rebounds and dished out 7 assists in game one of the Eastern Conference Finals.

Buddy’s Gate Crashing My Dreams

Bud makes himself comfortable in my consciousness so he can annoy me on an entirely different plane of existence!

Buddy has a tendency to show up in my dreams, which I attribute to his relentless insistence on messing with me while I’m asleep, whether it’s yowling in my ear for breakfast, deciding my nose needs grooming or just burrowing into me with a soft “Mrrrrrp!”

Last night, however, was a doozy. I dreamt I was back in high school, but instead of being in class I was in the newsroom at my first-ever newspaper job, which somehow occupied the third floor of the school building. I excused myself to go have a smoke — which I don’t do anymore — and walked down to the first floor where Bud was waiting for me near the door leading outside.

To say I was alarmed to find him just hanging out unsupervised in my high school-slash-workplace would be an understatement.

“Bud!” I said. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I came here with you, remember?” Buddy answered, speaking as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “We took the Celica.”

I sighed.

“I can’t have you running around here where someone could snatch you,” I said. “You’re going back in the car until I’m done for the day.”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are!”

“Oh yeah?” Buddy asked. “Where’s the car?”

Celica
A black Celica just like the one I owned until it died one day on the highway en route to Long Island.

And that’s when my dream morphed into a recurring nightmare, which is that I’m walking through a parking lot and can’t find my car. (In this case the car I got at 19 years old, a black Celica hatchback that was all sleek looks and underwhelming engine power. I still miss that car!) In these dreams I start to panic, redouble my efforts, and realize the parking lot is so huge, so endless that I’m gonna need a lift, someone to drive me around so I can look for my car

Buddy smile
“I’m a little Buddy, short and sweet! Here are my clawses, here are my feet!”

Maybe I can ease my anxiety in future dreams by dispatching Buddy to look for the car, but in last night’s dream he was clearly responsible for moving it.

“Bud…” I said. “What’d you do with the car?”

Dreams have a way of making it seem perfectly reasonable that a 10-pound house cat can not only speak, but drive a car.

I was absolutely sure that little jerk had hidden my car! (And here’s the standard disclaimer for all new readers: “little jerk” is a term of endearment when it comes to Bud. I love the little guy, obviously.)

I know it was just a dream, but it’s probably not a bad idea to hide my keys from now on…