An Open Letter to LeBron James

24 11 2009

I started playing basketball when I was 6 years old. The last time I stepped on a basketball court was senior year of high school. Needless to say, a great majority of my childhood and adolescence revolved around the game of basketball. My winters were spent playing in my township’s rec league on Saturdays and traveling around the state with my travel team on Sundays. My springs were spent watching the New York Knicks religiously.

Believe it or not, I lived and died with the New York Knicks in the 90′s. They were my team. I didn’t get their channel on the 19-inch television in my room, so every night I would fall asleep with a Sony handheld radio under my pillow and I would listen to the soothing voices of Gus Johnson and Walt Frazier call the Knicks games on WFAN. I can’t tell you how many nights I was woken up by one of Gus Johnson’s frenzied calls when John Starks hit a game-winning three or Charles Oakley dove into the press row to save a loose ball. If I dozed off before the game was over, the first thing I would do before I brushed my teeth for school the next morning was turn the radio back on and try to catch the final score.

Although I wasn’t even 7 years old at the time, I can vaguely remember the 1994 Finals against Houston. Luckily, they made it back again in the spring of 1999. After a season shortened by the lock-out, my Knicks made an improbable run to the NBA Finals as the 8th seed in the Eastern Conference. It was one of the best springs of my life. From Allan Houston’s runner in the lane to win Game 5 against Pat Riley and the Heat, to Larry Johnson’s 4-point play in Game 4 of the Conference Finals against the Pacers. I watched that play on my knees with my hands clasped together in front of the TV in my parents bedroom. When Johnson hit that shot over Dale Davis, I jumped so high that I came dangerously close to hitting my head on the ceiling fan. My parents thought that someone dropped a piano through the floor.

In the Finals, we were swept away in five games by a Spurs team that was at the beginning of a run that would bring them 4 titles in the next 7 years. As for us, it was the beginning of the end. After the 1999 Finals, we made one more run the following season, taking the Miami Heat to 7 games in another classic May battle before falling to the Pacers in the Conference Finals. Patrick Ewing was shipped off to Seattle the following offseason and the Knicks have made the playoffs only twice more since then and only posted a winning record once.

Over the next 6 years, I watched an incompetent front office and even more incompetent ownership run a once proud franchise into the ground. The decline of the New York Knicks this past decade has been such an epic disaster that it makes the Titanic look like a bath toy. Something else happened during that time though, something happened between the Knicks and I. We began to grow apart. Like they had done to so many fans, their organization had alienated me. The World’s Most Famous Arena, Madison Square Garden, a place that had seen NBA Championships and countless legends now houses a failing franchise and the laughingstock of the NBA. The mecca of basketball, a building that never stopped rocking in the city that never sleeps, now struggles to fill its seats.

This where you come in, Mr. James. I, along with just about every other person that still calls themselves a New York Knicks fan, desperately want you to come to New York next summer. In fact, it’s more than that — we need you to come to New York next summer. I know we haven’t won a championship in 36 years and that we haven’t even made the playoffs since 2003, but believe me when I say that New Yorkers are passionate about their basketball. You might not be able to tell at first glance, but we still love our Knicks. We still love our Knicks even if this past decade was like the sports equivalent of going through a messy divorce. Maybe we’re a little more distant now, but we’re still here. Maybe we aren’t as loud as we used to be, but it was them who took away our voice. It was the Jim Dolans and Scott Laydens and Isiah Thomases that took this team away from us, and now we want it back. We want it all back. If you want it too, this is where you’re going to find it. If you want to win a title, we are your best shot. We have cleared enough cap space for 2010 to put an actual supporting cast around you, not just Shaquille O’Neal. If you want to become the biggest superstar the NBA has ever seen, New York is the city that will let you become just that. Come on, I mean Spike Lee is even wearing a #23 Knicks jersey already. And it’s not Toney Douglas.

We need you to save our team, LeBron. We need you to bring basketball back to New York, back to where it belongs, back to Madison Square Garden. We need you to make us matter again. The days of intense April and May playoff battles against the Heat and Pacers are long gone now. Long gone is Patrick Ewing dunking over Alonzo Mourning to win Game 7. Long gone is Allan Houston hitting a jumper over Reggie Miller to ice a Game 6 in Indiana. Long gone is John Starks dunking over Michael Jordan, Jeff Van Gundy swinging on Mourning’s legs and Chris Childs taking a swing at P.J. Brown. It’s all a distant memory now.

LeBron, you can help us remember again. There’s so much history that’s been lost among the wreckage of this decade. With your help, we can start rewriting that history. Adding pages to the legends, and adding banners to the rafters. LeBron James, deep down inside you want to be New York Knickerbocker. So when we send you that invitation next July, come on in and make yourself at home.

Sincerely,

Every New York Knicks Fan Ever

*Because of the short week and the holiday weekend, no picks column for Week 12, but here are my picks:

Green Bay (-11.5) over DETROIT

Oakland (+13.5) over DALLAS

DENVER (+5) over NY Giants

Indianapolis (-3.5) over HOUSTON

CINCINNATI (-14) over Cleveland

MINNESOTA (-11) over Chicago

Washington (+9) over PHILADELPHIA

Miami (-3) over BUFFALO

Arizona (+3) over TENNESSEE

Seattle (-3) over ST. LOUIS

Tampa Bay (+12.5) over ATLANTA

Carolina (+3) over NY JETS

SAN FRANCISCO (-3) over Jacksonville

SAN DIEGO (-13.5) over Kansas City

BALTIMORE (-2.5) over Pittsburgh

New England (+2.5) over NEW ORLEANS

Last Week: 8-7

Season Total: 90-70





It’s a Contract Year…

30 10 2008

I was watching the Knicks season-opener against Miami last night, and instead of being awestruck by Shawn Marion’s inexplicable mohawk, I couldn’t help but think about Eddy Curry and Stephon Marbury and their enormously bloated contracts. There they both sat, on the bench for the entire night, and I can imagine that while they were doing so, the perpetual CHA-CHING sound that kept going through their collective heads managed to drown out most of the opening-night crowd. Eddy Curry is guaranteed $12 million dollars this year, as part of his 5-year, $60 million dollar contract that he signed in 2005. Stephon Marbury is set to make $23 million. Combined, they will rake in $35 million this year. For what?

For the duration of the first half, Eddy remained on the bench, in his warm-ups, his corn-rows freshly braided, all while Zach Randolph tried to keep up on fast breaks, daydreaming of a late-night trip to IHOP after the game. And so did Stephon. Malik Rose played 7 minutes. Even the first-round draft pick from Italy, Danilo Gallinari played 4 minutes. But Eddy and Steph remained on the bench. Combined, they both played 35 million minutes less than the amount of money they’re getting paid. 0.

So all of this aside, I was left to wonder what it would be like if our real world professions (and by “real world” I mean jobs where you don’t make $23 million dollars to sit on a folding chair for 3 hours a night. So essentially NBA players and CEO’s of large insurance firms are excluded) operated like the sports world.

Try to imagine a world where getting hired for a new job was like signing a professional sports contract. I imagine it would go something like this:

After graduating college, your new, high profile agent (who may or may not have bought your mother a new house and you a brand new BMW before you even got your degree) shops you around to different companies who are feverishly competing for you. You sit down with a number of different company presidents and vice presidents and CEO’s, but instead of them interviewing you, it’s you doing the interviewing. How productive can I be at this company? Are there other people around me that will enable me to perform at my highest level? Are we going to be ranked on the Fortune 500 this year? How much money am I looking at? Things like this.

After you’ve found the company that you and your high-profile agent agree is right for you (or is throwing the most money at you), the company subjects you to a gamut of drug tests and endurance tests. You think you can type 85 words a minute? Okay, let’s see it. Let’s see it when the office air-conditioning unit is broken and your desk chair doesn’t swivel. How well do you deal with adversity? Things like this.

Finally, you’re ready to sign the contract. Big money contract, right out of college. You’re a hot-shot. $500,000 guaranteed over 5 years. $60,000 signing bonus. You’re the talk of the office. For the first few weeks you’re tearing up the place. Handing in reports left and right, taking charge of the copy machine, getting new clients on-board by the busload, people are coming by your office just to watch you work. It’s fascinating.

But by mid-year you hit a slump. You start taking 2-hour lunches, you’ve fallen asleep on your keyboard more than once and the reports stop flowing like Cristal at the BET Awards after-party. Your co-workers think you’ve hit the wall. The rookie wall. But then you pick things up again, just in time for a late-year push. The Christmas party is a huge hit because you set it up, and got it catered by a nice sushi place a few blocks away. Rookie of the Year? Maybe. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

The next few years are much of the same thing. You’ve become a reliable, go-to guy. Congratulations. Other companies are waiting for your contract to expire so they can sign you as a free-agent. All of a sudden though, by Year 4, things start going downhill. You had a one-night stand with the quietly attractive blond two offices down from yours. Now it’s getting kind of awkward to be around the office. There’s rumors floating around that you may be traded. Realizing that you still have 2 years left on your contract and you can’t be fired, you start tanking reports left and right and calling out sick to sail your yacht around the harbor and do lines of coke off of a dolphin. Now every morning that you walk into the office you get dirty looks from all your co-workers. Nobody even talks to you anymore and the VP has called you into his office several times to tell you that he still believes in  your potential.

Meanwhile you’re being implicated in a shooting at a Vegas strip-club and throwing drinks in a girl’s face. All the pundits on MSNBC are talking about you and now nobody wants to pick up your lame-duck contract after it expires.

Soon the fifth and final year of your contract rolls around. The talk around the office is whether or not the company VP is going to sign you to a contract extension or release into the free-agency market. Inside sources around the office seem to have exclusive information about what company is going to sign you after the year is over. But then once the year begins, you’re working like a man-possessed, averaging double-digits in reports-per-week and being a solid task manager. Soon they’re talking about you like you’re a new person. Some co-workers shrug it off and say, “It’s just because he’s in a contract year”, but others can’t stop talking about how you’ve become a real “game manager”. Almost like Brad Johnson. “He really knows how to manage a game” they’ll say. But sure enough you’re working your ass off, you want that next big contract. And when the end of the year comes, you’ll get it. You’ll get that big contract with a lot of zeros because you understand what it takes to succeed….

…..always perform your best in a contract year.








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