Listen, I'm not someone who is prone to histrionics about my Knicks fandom, or one to draw lines in the sand about certain trades "ending" my relationship with the star-crossed team, or anything like that.
I'm an even-tempered enjoyer of basketball, and when it comes to the New York Knicks, I'm a sober-minded analyst.
I am well aware of the limitations of this team, especially coming out of their bruising, exhausting first-round series against the Detroit Pistons. They're not very deep. They miss too many free throws. The defense is sporadic, at best. The offense can just randomly malfunction for long periods of time. Karl-Anthony Towns often does not really show up for a game, and Mitchell Robinson is not really very helpful at this stage of playoff basketball. The Knicks still have a legit superstar in Jalen Brunson, but he also has a tendency to get into the most gunked of foul-hunting basketball mindsets and start flopping around the floor like a fish. Coach Tom Thibodeau clearly has a ceiling, the ceiling being the second round of the playoffs.
So on Monday night, here we were, exactly where we were supposed to be since the beginning of the season, facing the defending champion Boston Celtics, who were just too deep, too good at hitting open threes, and too experienced for the Knicks to bully their way through.
Fine, I thought. I hate losing to Boston, but it is what it is. I was prepared, nay, even somewhat nobly anticipating the utter exsanguination of this deeply flawed New York Knicks team at the hands of the despised Celtics. All teams meet their end. There was peace in my heart.
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