“Cause sometimes, we need to be part of something that is bigger than ourselves.”
-Jimmy Fallon in Fever Pitch

I’ve been lucky enough to see most of my favorite sports teams win a championship. I’ve also seen most of them loose.

The ’86 Mets were very special. I was only ten years old at the time, and even then, I knew the Mets were really cool. They got into fights, they did drugs, they smoked in the clubhouse before the game (Keith Hernandez), they had a pitcher called ‘Doc’. They ruled. I’ll never forget Game Six of the 1986 World Series, the infamous Bill Buckner play, with Mookie Wilsons’ routine ground ball going between his legs and under his glove.

In 1997, after years of loosing in the playoffs because they couldn’t get home field advantage, the Green Bay Packers finally won the Super Bowl. (Yeah, I’m a New Yorker that’s a Packers fan. Deal with it.) Watching Desmond Howard return two kickoffs for touchdowns was something special. Brett Farve was in all his glory. Antonion Freeman was doing the Lambeau Leap, Dorsey Levens was running the ball well, and the Rev. Reggie White was holding it down on defense.

Even teams that I casually follow, like the Devils and Rangers have won championships. However, there is one team that continues to break my heart, year after year. That team is the New York Knicks.
If you’re a Knicks fan over the age of 20, I don’t have to remind you about what I guess are the glory days of the early and mid-90’s. Don’t think I’m going to laud over those days too much. We had our share of heartache then as well. Most of that heartache can be directed towards one man: Michael Jordan.

I’m getting angry just typing his name, Michael Jordan. That bastard wearing number 23 in a Bulls uniform. If there is a franchise I hate more than any other, it is the Chicago Bulls. Sure, he is the greatest to every play the game. I cannot deny that, but I still hate the S.O.B. That rat bastard cost the Knicks so many shots at a championship. DAMN IT!!! Patrick Ewing should have a ring. Why the hell doesn’t Patrick have a ring?!? For that matter, why the hell doesn’t Charles Barkley, Sir Charles, the Round Mound of Rebound have a ring?!? I’ll tell you why… because of that punk Jordan and the damn misfits in those ugly ass red and white uniforms. Scottie Pippen with his “I wanna’ be Michael” ass. B.J. Armstrong… yeah… I’ll give you two guesses as to what B.J. stands for, who was later replaced by the Croatian Sensation Tony Kukoc, another rat bastard. Screw Luc Longley, the hell with Dennis Rodman, and straight up motherf*ck Phil Jackson. Greatest coach of all time, kiss my ASS! Give me those teams that he won championship with and I’ll get you some gold. Yeah… I’m sure it was tough to draw up a play. “Michael, draw the double team and then pitch it out to Scottie or B.J. (later Tony). The rest of you, run around and look useful.” Bastard f*ck!

So maybe it wasn’t just Jordan …but I digress.

No team has broken my heart more or caused me more pain than the New York Knicks. The worst part is, unlike Boston Red Sox fans (though they have no reason to be upset recently), I cannot blame many of the losses on mystical unseen forces. No… that would give me some solace. No. Many of the Knicks epic meltdowns are self-inflicted. Oh yes. Let’s recap, shall we?

The Bulls vs. the Knicks. That was the real championship. The Bulls would take all their home games. The Knicks would take all their home games. The Bulls always had a better record, thus home court advantage, and winning in seven games. Painful, truly painful.

It finally happened! We won Game 2 in Chicago. We took one in their house. We’ve got it. We’re going to take it this year. It’s ours. What happens? We sh(t the bed. Of course, it’s not enough to loose, the Knicks must do it in epic fashion. Game 6. (I should love the sound of the words “Game 6” as a Met fan, but when it comes up in basketball, I’m ready to kill.) Final seconds, Charles Smith is under the basket and with four shots, can’t get a layup, dunk, or draw a foul, and the Bulls win. His ass was run out of New York so fast it wasn’t even funny.

Jordan’s gone! We beat the Bulls! We’re in the finals!! Yes?!? NO!!!! Game six, Knicks with a 3-2 lead and a chance to close it out. Do we?!? No!!! John Starks has to brick shot after shot, but he still keeps getting the ball. Knicks lose. Game seven. Wait a minute?!? Am I watching Game six again?!? It sure looks like it. There’s John Starks. There’s John Starks shooting. There’s the ball bouncing off the rim, ricocheting off the backboard, missing the basket entirely… WHAT THE F*CK!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Jordan returns. His first game back, against the Pacers, we got to see something special. He’s missing shots, he’s bouncing them off the rim. He’s a mess. He’s turning the ball over. Michael’s lost something, and he’s going to play the Knicks next. Oh yes… this is going to be beautiful. What happens? He drops 55 on us. FIFTY FIVE!!! DAMN IT!!!!!

I can’t go on… it’s hurting me… more later…