Anyone who says they miss the old days is full of it

The New York Knicks have advanced in the playoffs. Those words carry more weight than most. There’s time in those words, lots of time. Those words got old-man strength. “The Golden State Warriors have advanced” doesn’t even register anymore; that’s like someone tapping your knee and your leg kicking out. That’s reflex. “The Knicks have advanced” is Gandha Bherundasana. Advanced-level yoga; that shit doesn’t just happen. It’s earned. It endures.

You’d think it’s a good time to be a Knick old-head. My dark hairs still outnumber the whites, but at 44, compared to many of the Knick writers and podcasters you follow, I might as well be Marv Albert. You’d think it’s fun to be a Knick old-head, especially during the good times, and you’d be right. This is my 10th season covering the team; most of it has been spent searching for meaning, or at least a little fun, amidst a lot of losing. It is soooo much more satisfying writing about them when they’re good

For Matthew Miranda, Knicks writer, the last four-and-a-half months have been so positive and encouraging I literally found myself exhausted of praise by the end of the season. The head coach and nearly everyone in the rotation exceeded expectations. Meanwhile, so many of our most hated enemies – Atlanta, Brooklyn, Dallas – are as lost shadows, grinding and gnashing invisible teeth. The Knicks caught a break in the second round, with prohibitive title favorite Milwaukee no longer in the way. Future. Bright. Shades. Yes? 

Miranda the fan says no.

As soon as the Miami Heat took the first game of their series against the Bucks and “Giannis Antetokounmpo” got linked with “back injury,” a thought popped up in my head, a dark one. It could never happen, I knew; that was obvious. So it was okay to joke about. The number of things that would have to happen – and so many so unlikely! No, it was just another intrusive thought, that’s all. It didn’t mean anything.

A recurring theme in our favorite stories is that of the old war come back to life. In Star Wars the Emperor never really goes away, even if that means explaining his return in an offensively lazy way. In the MCU, the Infinity War with Thanos was followed by a bigger battle in Endgame; in Lord of the Rings, Sauron is He Who Remains; in Harry Potter, it’s Voldemort; and depending what decade it is, in the U.S. it’s Germany, or Russia, or China. The fear of the bad days, the dark ages, is understandable when so much of our world is built on the bodies of its victims. It’s why I’m so anxious about the Knicks and the Heat that I actually feel a little sick.

History says the Knicks and Heat rivalry was born in the fire of four straight playoff matchups fro 1997-2000. History says the Knicks won three of the four, and only lost when David “Little Nero” Stern used the letter of the law to pummel its spirit and suspend half the Knicks for taking offense to someone 6-foot-10 literally tossing someone 6-foot-2. History says world wars last a certain number of years. History says the Allies won both world wars. History’s a fraud.

To the nearly 100 million people who lost their lives in world wars, nobody won. The Allies were partners of convenience; Russia spent most of the war neutral toward Japan, despite the U.S., their European ally against the Nazis, asking them to help them in the Pacific by attacking Japan. Russia finally did – over three years later, after the Nazis were no longer a threat, because they wanted a seat at the table when the Pacific peace was negotiated. The U.S. dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki for a few reasons, one being to show their allies the Soviets their biggest muscle in anticipation of what became the Cold War. 

Today our experience of those wars is mostly mediated through documentaries nobody watches. Do yourself a favor and watch one. You’ll be astonished at how many people died in a single day of fighting, a single battle, a village massacred. China killed almost 100,000 of its own people with a single man-made flood. Still, no matter how many facts you learn about old wars, you don’t have a hint of a hope of knowing what it was like.

If the inelegance of comparing playoff basketball to global genocide offends you, I can only ask your forgiveness. The analogy may be vulgar, but what I’m after is vulnerability. The Knicks/Heat series of the 1990s were not fun. At all. It was minute after minute of tightly fought possessions, neither team separating from the other, ever. These were the game results for the Knicks in the playoffs against the Heat, 1998-2000: LWLWW/WLWLW/LWLWLWW. Every 3-pointer felt like a knockout punch; every missed free throw a gut punch. The worst part was that even victory brought no relief.

Winning in ‘98 felt like justice after ‘97. But if the Knicks lost in ‘99, that would’ve meant Miami taking two of their three series. That couldn’t possibly be just! So the Knicks had to win in ‘99, too. In 2000, a loss would’ve meant the teams split their four series, which would imply balance, which wasn’t fair because the whole rivalry was rooted in an initial injustice (two, if you count Pat Riley’s fax). So they had to win then, too. On one side, Miami had to be miserable losing year after year to their hated foe; on the other, even though New York kept winning, there was little joy to be taken; mostly just relief at not feeling victimized again.

When I remember Heat vs. Knicks, I don’t remember Patrick Ewing dunking on Alonzo Mourning, or Allan Houston’s shot bouncing in, or Chris Childs saving the Knicks’ bacon in a Game 7. Nor do my thoughts turn to Tim Hardaway pull-up 3s, Voshon Lenard hitting an insane playoff game-winner or Pat Riley’s suits looking pressed and cleaned straight from the dry cleaner while Jeff Van Gundy looked like he himself just tumbled out of a dryer. I remember the tangible, physical stress of it all.

The 2023 Knicks and Heat have nothing to do with the 1990s, of course. That is a reasonable statement, and we are of course reasonable people. It is entirely possible to remember the blood feud of that time without being drawn to it anew. What’s dead is buried and stays buried. Just because New York/Miami postseasons were physically, mentally and spiritually depleting 25 years ago doesn’t have anything to do with us here and now. Thor chopped off Thanos’ head. The Emperor was thrown to his death. Russia is capitalist and even has elections. All is well. All is well.