For a brief time in the 1990s, the Knicks and Magic were bitter foes. Was a rivalry resurrected last night in Orlando?

Last night the New York Knicks fell in Orlando to the Magic, 117-108. Not a surprising result: the young Magic, tied for fourth in the East with their fellow Floridians further south, sport their best team since the Dwight Howard/Stan Van Gundy days. Easy as hell to steal a Kia these days. Steal a win at Kia Center? Boston, Milwaukee, Denver and now New York all know: nope. That joint is not a fun space to be. But it was a fun time for fans like me.

If you watched last night’s game, I hope you did so ensconced in your angst-iest flannel and a pair of flare-bottom JNCOs, your feet cozy inside some Reebok Pumps while Los del Rio sings of cuerpos in the background. Because as far as intensity, outside shooting (or the lack thereof) and officiating, last night’s game was straight out of the 1990s. Some losses fade upon arrival, little meteors streaking across our consciousness, breaking apart before making an impact. This loss sticks in the teeth like meat, like hair. It was messy. It was brutal. It was bloody. It was beautiful.

Why do we stare when we see a beautiful face? Some theorize it’s a way mortals pursue immortality. Our lives are temporary; we have as little control over them as Mitchell Robinson does over his free throws. That’s why we stare when we see someone beautiful: perfection and symmetry are things we wish were forever. So we look. Let our eyes linger. The only power we have is to keep looking, for as long as we can.

Which is why watching a chippy, physical game that clearly mattered to two playoff teams who combined to miss 50 of 63 threes, commit 50 fouls and shoot 69 free throws was easy on the eyes and the souls of those who remember the good old days. Last night was an oasis from the 132-126 shoot ‘em ups we get more often than not. Orlando bigs Franz Wagner and Paolo Banchero combined for 61 points and 19 rebounds. Mo Wagner and Cole Anthony are classic “hate them on another team; on yours they’re your fave” players. Jalen Suggs was impactful on both ends. Rookie Anthony Black does some of everything other than shoot; when he has he’s mostly been fine, saving his ammo for looks at the rim, where he’s shooting 75%, or beyond the arc (36%). 

You could tell Orlando really wanted this one. If you couldn’t, they made sure everyone knew on their last bucket of the night. Including the Knicks.

The Magic are a tough matchup for the Knicks. They’re physical, both their bigs and their backcourt. There are no external expectations weighing them down; they’re playing with house money. Without Mitchell Robinson, the Knicks currently have just two rotation-caliber bigs on their roster in Julius Randle and Isaiah Hartenstein; if you ran into the Wagner boys in an elevator, there’d be as many in that elevator. 

There won’t be many nights Jalen Brunson, RJ Barrett, Donte DiVincenzo and Immanuel Quickley combine to shoot 16-of-49. And despite a dismal second quarter Mike Breen repeatedly labeled their worst of the season and trailing by 20 in the third, the Knicks nearly fought and clawed their way all the way back. The Magic struck first blood, but faced with fight or flight, these Knicks will always fight. And they will remember this loss. Bet.

You can’t fight the refs, though, and they, even more than Suggs and Black’s defense, kept Brunson under wraps. Goga Bitadze had already intentionally shoulder-checked him and whacked him a few other times by the time Suggs, the state of Minnesota’s 2019 Mr. Football, flashed back to the gridiron and body-checked Brunson with no whistle blown.

The lone bright spots from this one begin with Randle’s performance. Last month many of the same people who deify J.R. Smith as a cult hero despite him admitting to partying too much to give his best while here and the elbow that killed a dream, were crying to dump Randle for Tobias Harris or Zach LaVine. 38 points, 16 rebounds and six dimes last night for Julius, who continues to punch-in and do work, day after day after day.

The board work is especially important with the Knicks currently so small. They played quite a bit of Randle at center during the fourth-quarter fightback, aided by Barrett’s commendable work defending the bigger Banchero. Tom Thibodeau may not like playing without a rim protector, same as I’d prefer not to be driving a 17-year-old car. I’ve been looking to drive to Florida to see my grandparents, for what could very well be the last time. My car wouldn’t survive the trip. So I have to consider other options. Maybe Thibs will too. We’ve seen over the years he’s not intractable, particularly when he doesn’t have options.

The big story after the game was Thibodeau’s postgame with the reporters, where he sat, ripped the officials over the whistle Brunson doesn’t get (and not just last night), got up and left. His bank account will be a little lighter. Maybe his conscience will be, too. He stood up for his guy and put the world on notice heading into tonight’s game in Indiana. The Pacers are the last team on Earth you expect to get a ‘90s kinda game against. They’re as 2024 as it gets. But the Knicks are playing tough, meaningful Eastern conference games. Teams are coming for them. Refs are screwing them. They been bloodied and bruised. The Knicks matter. It’s beautiful.