Why the Knicks Still Matter

Three reasons: Location. Location. Location. At least according to FreeDarko's 6th man:

In this way, New York is the true capital of basketball. Beyond the dizzying array of connections to the NYC that unite almost all of the game’s denizens, New York’s primacy as a streetball center keeps the sport anchored in the five boroughs. Basketball embodies New York’s spirit, and New York embodies basketball’s. Appreciating this dynamic explains why places like West 4th Street are hallowed proving grounds; why the history of the game was likely altered the day that Black Jesus came forth from Philadelphia, held court in Harlem, and dazzled Lew Alcindor; why a palpable chill descends on the building when Kobe shows up to drop 60.

[SNIP]

The Knickerbockers are New York’s most visible link to the sport with which it shares a soul; the Knicks are a proxy for the City. And the Knicks, of course, play in the National Basketball Association. NBA basketball is the best-known, best-played form of the sport. A sustained championship drought, therefore, has bedeviled New Yorkers because it has challenged a shared sense of identity. Even if this discomfort is not always articulated as such, the Knicks’ failures have struck at what New Yorkers are about. The place of basketball should field a team which can play it as well as just about any other.

With or without LeBron, the Knicks will soon field a team as good as the game. Mark my words. 

The Inner Workings of a Creator

The unreliable Saint Cayetano totally spit the bit last night. I've managed, though, to find some cold comfort in the possibility of Stephen Curry running the Garden floor in a Knicks jersey. These incredible FreeDarko animations of Dwight Howard and Derrick Rose, which they put together with adidas and, reportedly, Jurassic 5's Chali 2na, are also doing their part to keep my spirits high. 





If you haven't already purchased FreeDarko's Macrophenomenal Pro Basketball Almanac, well, you're about as useful to me as Cayetano imbroglione. Or the Los Angeles Clippers. 

Witness, Again

FreeDarko weighs in on the significance of LeBron's Friday night magnificence against the Celtics, in relation to Kobe's equally impressive--yet entirely different-- Friday night gem against the Pacers.

One thing's for certain: As of right now, LeBron's play casts Kobe in an entirely new light. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that Kobe is mortal. He pushes himself, not the laws of what's possible. His vocabulary is all that basketball has to offer, not the possibility of total transcendence and reinvention of those parameters. Don't get me wrong, the Lakers' finest remains larger-than-life, but it's not the same as LeBron's ability to make us rethink what might happen on the court.

I touched on this briefly here, in Saturday's edition of "Line of the Night," although not nearly as deeply. My comment was basically this: Kobe good; LeBron REALLY good. 

The point remains, however, that LeBron can, at this point in his young career, do things on the court that Kobe could never do. Does that make him a better basketball player? I don't know. I think it just means that LeBron is much more fun to watch.   

The rest is just details. 

Like Boxing a Bear

Last night, I hosted the FreeDarko Macrophenomenal listening party at the Sugar Lounge, in Red Hook, Brooklyn. By all accounts, the event, which consisted of me, Nathaniel, Jesse and Jacob, talking over the Knicks-Bulls game, went off without a hitch. 

Jesse (Silverbird5000) shared an epic story about how Charles Smith’s failure against the Bulls revealed to him everything he needed to know about his Jewish faith. Nathaniel (Bethlehem Shoals) waxed poetically about Mike D’Antoni’s hucksterism, and Jacob (Big Baby Belafonte), the collective's aesthetic eye, weighed in on the Association’s lack-luster marketing campaign.

I managed to get in a few zingers, too, and escaped, like the gentleman in the photo above, relatively unscathed.

Thanks to everybody who stopped by. A big round of applause for Freddy and Kerry who let us make a mess of the place. Also to Pete, the owner of the neighboring FreeBird Books and co-sponsor of the event. I really appreciate it. Red Hook really is lovely this time of year. 

1 + 99: WGASIG Presents FreeDarko

As I shoulder through the century mark, I'd like to announce that I will be moderating a kind of free-associative discussion/trash-talking session with the geniuses behind FreeDarko during tomorrow night's Knicks-Bulls game, at the Sugar Lounge, 147 Columbia Street, between Kane and Degraw, in Red Hook, Brooklyn. The festivities begin at 8:30 p.m. Audience participation is strongly encouraged. I want this to go down like a floor vote at the national convention of Bolsheviks. Or the NBA Draft.

Be there or be square. 

Odds & Sods

The New Yorker has some fantastic treats in this week’s issue. Take a bite out of this mouthwatering profile about the best little BBQ joint in Texas, which is, appropriately enough, run by a former rodeo clown and a middle school janitor. (I’m still partial to the Salt Lick myself). Wash it down with the magazine’s feature about Delaware’s Dogfish Head Beer. Fans of FreeDarko should check out the Seattle Weekly’s story—which includes the first coherent explanation of the most magically delicious basketball blog I’ve ever come across—about the mensch behind the site. My Knickerbockers just took a giant first step toward getting under the cap. And they’re apparently just getting started. Finally, FanIQ points out this hilarious video about what happens when mascots cross the line.