You might be suffering from claustelfobia. You just don’t know it yet, but it’s defined by a feeling of the world closing in on you as a direct result of lack of spacing. Step into Dr. Jack Huntley’s office for your diagnosis.

Tune in to your average New York Knicks offensive possession this season, and you may be afflicted by an acute and debilitating condition. It’s by no means new, but does seem especially potent in its second season, circulating exclusively in rooms with Knick fans, when the Knicks are being broadcast, and — curiously — when starting point guard Elfrid Payton is on the court.

It starts with profusely sweating, and a sudden awareness of the room’s walls, walls magically emboldened and full of malice. Your unsuspecting body develops an involuntary tremor, the beginnings of a centuries-old fight or flight survival mechanism. Are those walls a few inches closer? The ceiling a few inches lower? Is that previously friendly floor gazing up at you, hungrily advancing? Hot flushes. Waves of anxiety. Shortness of breath. Your heart beats faster as — somehow — the oxygen in the room is Hoovered up by whatever is happening on the TV’s screen. You feel trapped by the former room that is now an uncomfortably humid and angry phone box. Chest pain. Nausea. General disorientation. It’s only been 24 seconds, since the claustelfobia began, but it usually culminates in feelings of intense emotion towards any shelves in the vicinity, as the room recedes to its regular dimensions, and on the screen, the Knicks stumble back on defense, similarly dazed, understandably disorientated, and — though there is no evidence of this — almost certainly thinking about shelves.

Welcome, fellow claustelfobics. It helps to say it out loud, honestly. I’ll go first. My name’s Jack and I regularly watch defenses ignore Elfrid Payton. 

This is a safe — apologies for the triggering language — space.

According to Synergy Sports, the average NBA team has spent 3.7% of their possessions playing against a zone this season. The Knicks’ number, though, is at an eye-watering 10.8%. Only one team in the league plays against more zone than the Knicks: the Atlanta Hawks, at 11.6%. Those Hawks are 22nd in offensive efficiency against a zone, scoring 0.88 points per possession. By comparison, the Knicks make those Hawks look like a team of Ray Allens, scoring just 0.7 points per possession. Only the Sixers are less effective against a zone, scoring 0.63 points per torturous possession. But, crucially, the Ben Simmons-led Sixers face exactly half as many zone possessions (5.4%) as the Knicks. And just as crucially, they have Ben Simmons.

The 2020-21 Knicks are an outlier in the league in terms of the sheer volume of zone possessions they’re facing, and how inefficient they are scoring against this zone. This is a suffocating combination.

But this only tells part of the story. If you’ve watched the Knicks this year, you may rightly be wondering: Aren’t the majority of offensive possessions stewarded by Elfrid Payton faced with a zone of sorts? 

It’s a fun game to play, “where is Payton’s defender?” Here, in the second game of the season against the Sixers, it’s Seth Curry, who is 20 feet from Payton, under the basket, helping on Mitchell Robinson as Mitch’s man — Joel Embiid — double teams poor Julius Randle. Is this a zone? Technically, no. But spiritually, yes — it’s one of many Man+Elf defenses the Knicks have faced in the half court this season.

Here against the Raptors, Elfrid Payton doesn’t step foot inside the arc this whole possession, and his defender — Kyle Lowry — doesn’t leave the paint. This means that when RJ Barrett’s man, Norm Powell, doubles poor Julius Randle on the wing, Lowry can help on RJ knowing the Raptors’ game plan has Payton shooting an above the break three chalked up as a big defensive win. Is it a zone? No. It’s a double team off a bad shooter in RJ, knowing Elf’s defender can happily zone up on Barrett and Payton. It’s a Man+Elf.

Here, again, against the Atlanta Hawks, Bogdan Bogdanovic flat out abandons Elf in the middle of the possession to double Randle before Randle even has the ball. Not that it matters, as King Julius hasn’t missed a 15-footer since way back in 2020. Another Man+Elf.

Again, this time against the Oklahoma City Thunder, Payton’s defender — Shai Gilgeous Alexander — abandons Elf to cover Mitch, while Mitch’s defender — Al Horford — goes to double Randle. Julius somehow finds Payton, the man the OKC defense is most happy for him to find. Spoiler: the ball does not go in.

There are a handful of carbon copy clips from every game this season. This isn’t to say that the Knicks don’t struggle against zone defenses when Elf is off the floor, because they absolutely do. Nor is it to say teams don’t happily double Randle when Elf is off the floor, because they absolutely do. But it is to say that Elfrid Payton enables these defenses more than any other Knick, and this is a problem. 

It’s an extremely frustrating trade-off to witness: the Knicks’ best offensive weapon — Julius “Rambo” Randle — to some extent strategically neutralized by the Knicks’ most glaring offensive weakness — Payton’s inability to shoot. It’s a testament to Randle’s continually mind-boggling performances this season that he’s managed to be so efficient, and so consistent, in such a booby-trapped offense. It’s wild to think that Randle, playing unequivocally the best basketball of his career, at an All-Star if not All-NBA level, has been quite clearly held back by the Knicks roster. In other words — he can be even better, which I fully acknowledge is a ridiculous concept given how good he’s been. I’ll give you a moment to linger on that happy Julius-shaped thought before we get back to darker topics. A little longer… OK, back into the darkness.

At times this season, Payton has played brilliantly. He’s a good cutter, and a good passer, with a good handle. But the good is drowned out by the bad when defenders are two steps closer to the nail guarding Payton than they would be guarding almost any other player in the NBA. It’s not all on Elf, either. The rest of the roster amplifies his lack of shooting, RJ and Mitch especially so, and while this isn’t necessarily Payton’s fault, it sharpens his flaws to the point of mortally puncturing the Knicks’ half court offense.

Some people will say this is too harsh, that the Knicks’ starting point guard puts enormous pressure on the rim, and point to his best performances this season as evidence. But the shots Elf thrives on when he’s at his very best — the contested floaters — are objectively bad shots, that the league as a whole last season converted at a 40% clip. This season, and throughout his career, Payton has been no better than average at the shot he so heavily relies on. 

Here’s his career shooting accuracy (along with his percentile rank — higher/orange equals better, lower/blue equals worse), from each area on the court, per cleaningtheglass.com. Try not to look directly at it for too long.

He’s been this player his whole career: a serviceable backup point guard, so long as he’s surrounded by shooting. This wasn’t some mystery prior to the current campaign, and the Knicks’ front office — more than anyone — should have known that. It’s why they’re paying a point guard in the theoretical prime of his career backup point guard money — $5 million. Leon Rose’s mistake was in not providing Tom Thibodeau with any easy alternatives, which, coupled with early season injuries, has left the Knicks with an all-too-familiar point guard problem.

After a hot start, the Knicks are riding a four-game losing streak. Thibs, by his own admission, will play the players he thinks give him the best chance to win. Payton is the prime and obvious candidate for replacement, despite playing well in stretches, within the confines of his very restricted skillset. Whether it’s pushing the promising but inconsistent point guard Immanuel Quickley in at the deep end, or, more likely, turning to more of a point guard by committee approach — with some combination of RJ, Alec Burks, and Austin Rivers; health permitting — the starting lineup is screaming out for some oxygen.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to double check the square footage of my living room in preparation for tonight’s game, so I have some concrete measurements to cling to as the walls close in tonight. It’s part of a new game-day health ritual, to take the edge off the claustelfobia. Scented candles are a good idea, for a relaxed and anxiety-free vibe. Copious amounts of alcohol, as always, is a wonderfully effective medicinal blanket. Sweat-wicking clothing, of course, practically speaking, is more comfortable to wear as your face and body releases the alcohol you’ve just consumed back into the atmosphere. And a bucket to throw up in saves on mess when things really get bogged down.

After all this, assuming you’re still alive, as your symptoms retreat, take comfort in the fact that you’re not alone. Together, after the game, we can all have a good old fashioned cathartic scream into the blue void, and angrily tweet away the pain.

Hey, we all have to do what we can to minimize the damage of a spatially-challenged roster, and hazardously congested starting lineup; isn’t that right, Thibs?