I took it like a man

I refer, of course, to the final Knicks game of the year.

I didn't come downstairs and blog.  I didn't hide in the bedroom.  I didn't wander into the Trojan night, seeking drinks with friends.  No, dear reader.  I sat there, watching the whole thing in more-or-less real time.

At halftime I went into the bathroom and took either a Xanax or a Zantac.  I'm not sure which it was because my hands were shaking so badly.  That said, throughout the 4th quarter and quite a ways into the rest of the night I suffered from severe mood swings and at least two lengthy crying jags.  At the same time I experienced no sign of gastric reflux.

So you're thinking it was a Zantac?
Yes I am.

I will say this:  down by eight or ten for much of the 3rd quarter, the Knicks pulled themselves together, reeled off a 12-2 run and put the fear of God into those corn-fed Midwestern motherfuckers.  We couldn't keep it up -- some things are just not meant to be -- but we stood up like men.

When it was over I felt a little bit like the Lady Sansa Stark watching her fiance Joffrey put the sword to her father's head.

Me?  I'm not one of those crazy people with a psychotic need for my sports teams to win championships and the belief that anything short of that equates to failure (read: Yankee fans).  So give me a couple of days and I'll be able to look back at this Knicks season and smile.  Because prior to the year before this one, Knicks basketball was horrible.  For at least a decade.  Soul-deadeningly horrible.

And this was better than that.  Way better.

Downright fun, in fact.

Click here for a NYTimes slideshow of JR Smith's tattoos.

Winter is coming.