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misterearl
Posts: 38786
Alba Posts: 0
Joined: 11/16/2004
Member: #799 USA
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At halftime I spotted a familiar face. He was barely recognized by the pseudo-basketball fans on the club level of Philips Arena. So, I decided to show the brotha some love and thank him for what he meant to my beloved franchise. He was gracious enough to engage in a friendly conversation while he waited on his pizza. Although he resides in Atlanta, he confesses, "once a new Yorker - always a New Yorker"... "I'll root for the Knicks but I sit on my hands" We laugh. I feel like I made a new friend.
We shook hands twice and went our separate ways.
About five minutes later I run into two business colleagues, who invite me to their suite. My section 103 row E seats didn't suck, but what da hell, I'm still enjoying the afterglow of the previous conversation. Besides, the Knicks are moving the ball aggressively and Nate is back. Jeffries grabs a few rebounds and throws a nice outlet pass. I understand why D'Antoni likes him. My two associates are waiting for their third person, who happened to be in the concession line. It's the same brotha I just introduced myself to. The four of us proceed to the elevator, while I am savoring how the planets have aligned so perfectly.
The Bank of America Suite is half full. Mostly corporate types. A few random couples. Another former pro basketball player is seated in the second row. It's Joe Barry Carroll, who, like my new bff, also lives in Atlanta. It's the early third quarter and I'm watching Knicks basketball, talking about the eighties, the playoffs, The Washington Bullets, Silver Spring MD and standing next to... Bernard King. I'm watching The Mayor with one eye, and double-taking with the other eye to make certain I'm not dreaming this stuff up.
By the fourth quarter, with the game on the line Bernard is having flashbacks. He is explaining everything from Joe Johnsons reluctance to go inside to the potential of Wilson Chandler, who he likes. He is enjoying the reunion with his former teammate at Golden State, and running plays in his head - knowing he always wanted the ball with the game on the line. I'm trying to contain the urge to hand my cel phone to my boy Eric (with Bernard King on the other end) but that would be tacky. But I thought about it more than once... he probably woulda done it.
Even though the Knicks execution prevents them from getting good looks the last two times down the court, the people in the suite (including my gracious VP host from Bank of America) breathe a sigh of relief. They know the shameless Knicks fan would have been insufferable. The best sign of better days was not the final score. It was the guys on the Knicks bench who waited to congratulate their teammates. They walked off the court with their heads up - together.
Bernard grabbed my hand, patted my shoulder and smiled. He asked how many games I attend. "I see all the Knicks games when they come here".
I have a feeling I'll see him again.
once a knick always a knick
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