New York Knicks: The Disaster We Come To Expect

So my brother blogged earlier in the day on his feelings towards the New York Knicks as a franchise. I have to admit, it was adorable. See I have been on this Earth five years longer than my brother. While that age gap means very little the older we get, it goes a long way in how we view the New York Knicks. My brother still has hope; he really believes the Knicks cannot be dumb enough to make this trade, or draft this player. Oh, but they are. Whether it’s making bad trades or handing out bad contracts, I have come to never rule the Knicks out of anything.

The Disaster that is #Knickstape

Maybe the prime example of how my brother and I differ in terms of viewing the Knicks came in this year’s draft. My brother wanted Dennis Smith, like any smart person would. Heck, I wanted Dennis Smith. I still talk about the show him and Bam put on at the Southern Jam Fest three years ago. But as a Knicks fan, I knew better. I saw Frank Ntikilina’s name and where he was from and knew that was the pick. I said it since April, and anyone who thought different I boldly said doesn’t know the New York Knicks. So draft night came and we patiently awaited the 8th pick, my brother and I texting back and forth about who was coming off the board.

“Malik Monk is dropping. Smith will still be there.” he would say. So much hope still, because this franchise hasn’t killed him yet.

Knicks fans are all to used to draft night not working in their favor

And with the 8th pick in the 2017 NBA Draft, the New York Knicks selected….Frank Ntikilina. Was I disappointed? Sure, I would have loved Smith or even Malik Monk. Was I surprised? Absolutely not. This is the same team I’ve seen draft Jordan Hill in the lottery. Michael Sweetney, Channing Frye, lottery picks. And while they gave me the beautiful Kristaps Porzingis, I had little faith they would make the right pick.

That’s the New York Knicks

I grew up with the Knicks just in time to see their downward spiral. From NBA East champions to the laughing stock of the NBA. Like many my age, I went from idolizing Allen Houston to watching this team trade for the likes of ¬†Steve Francis, Stephon Marbury, Antonio McDyess, Eddy Curry (Oh Gosh Eddy Curry), Al Harrington, Keith Van Horn, Cuttino Mobley, Larry Hughes and try to tell me they can win. I watched JEROME JAMES get paid millions to never play. I watched them ship out every fan favorite. From Latrell Sprewell, to Dikembe Mutombo, to more recently Danilo Gallinari, Wilson Chandler and Jeremy Lin. Yes, Lin made bank on a month’s worth of work, but would I take him over Jose Calderon? 10 times out of 10.

And now here we are. Knicks fans rejoicing that Phil Jackson is gone. One of the greatest basketball minds could not only save us, but made us worse. And in typical Knicks fashion, it came a week too late. Normal teams would cut ties with their President before the draft so they can regroup and get on the same page before the off-season. Not us, not the New York Knicks. We once again put our hearts in the hands of James Dolan, a man we loathed just months ago.

Maybe I’m wrong. Frank Ntikilina could end up being a good NBA player. He has potential, I won’t deny that, but I won’t get my hopes up. I can’t get my hopes up. The Knicks have only come to crush my hopes when they get high.

Sometimes I envy young Knicks fans. They still have hope. They still believe this team can do something right. Their expectations are set so high because why not? Not me though, I’ve been here before. I’ve seen the countless bad deals go down. Hope is gone. So when the Knicks go out and do Knicks things, I don’t get mad, and I don’t yell. I just sit back and say “That’s my Knicks.”

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