I’ve been a New York Knicks fan for over 40 years. I doubt this is something that Robby can even begin to grasp. He’s only 17 years old, and he’s already on his third NBA team: First Orlando, then Houston, and now the Knicks. (He climbed on the bandwagon the moment we got Amar’e.) My oldest son Matt, however, isn’t counting on Robby sticking with the Knicks for better or for worse: He sees him jumping ship for Boston, the Lakers, the Heat, the Bulls, OKC — or even the Blake Show — at the first sign of rough seas. Over the last 10 years, I’d get asked a lot how I could root for one of the ugliest, most mis-managed and misguided franchises in all of sports — a team with the least likeable cast of characters in the NBA, a revolving door of big-name but totally ineffective head coaches, a smiling-but-sleazy former Bad Boy for a G.M., and an owner whose picture is in the dictionary next to the word “buffoon.”
And I’ve never had a good answer. All I know is if a Knicks game is on, I’m watching. I like to think of it as loyalty, though addiction might be more accurate. And I’ve been so desperately addicted that every time my team slapped on a band-aid — Stephon Marbury or Stevie Francis or Jalen Rose or Zach Randolph or Tracy McGrady — I thought I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Then came the last two dismal years of shedding salary and being absolutely abysmal, in the name of clearing cap space in the pursuit of King James. I hadn’t been a big fan of this strategy, and when we failed to get LeBron, my thought was: Two years down the drain, for what? When we landed Stoudemire, I dismissed him in this blog as a glorfied D. Lee who could maybe jump a little higher and dunk a little harder.
Well, time to admit I was wrong. Signing Amar’e was the beginning of the turn-around. And now, with the addition of Melo and Chauncey, things are getting downright scintillatiing at the Garden. Sure, I initially bemoaned the loss of some of our young guns — particularly Gallo — but the deal is barely a week old and it’s already “Raymond-who?” for me.
On Sunday night, I watched the Knicks, led by three perennial NBA All-Stars (not a bunch of cast-offs named Eddie Lee Wilkins and Hawthorne Nathaniel Wingo), hold the vaunted Miami Thrice to 86 points in a resounding come-from-behind victory. I watched Melo dominate — slashing to the hole, following his misses, draining silky J’s. I watched Mr. Big Shot make the game’s biggest shot. I watched Amar’e swat away King James’ layup attempt that could have turned the game. I watched the Knicks go on a 16-0 rampage to finish the first half, and a 9-2 run to close out the game.
All this is not to say that when the Knicks play the Magic in a few minutes, they won’t stink up the joint. They’re still a work in progress.
But after all these years, I’ve had a glimpse of The Promised Land. And I really like what I see.
-Hank 
