Thursday, February 12, 2009


It's 4 a.m. and I can't sleep. The Knicks overtime loss to the Clippers has left me tossing and turning. And sweating. And with dry mouth. I woke up shortly before 4 a.m. and turned on the television rather than drowning in insomniotic* silence. The television was stilled tuned to MSG. And, I was just in time to catch the last two minutes of regulation and OT of tonight's replay. Awesome.

For the second time tonight, I watched as Harrington was called for a technical foul after slamming home a missed shot for a 110-107 lead with 25 seconds to play. He turned the best part of my evening into the worst (or second worst, but that's for another time and another blog). He slapped the glass on the way back to the floor and handed the game to the Clippers. I don't care about overtime. I don't care that the Knicks were outscored 18-14 in the extra session. I just care about that play. That was the game. And the Knicks gave it away.

I wanted to yell. To run around the block.. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to kick something after watching this happen for the first time. But I didn't. I tried to stay still and not freak out and scream. And, then I couldn't sleep. I couldn't drain the bile from my blood. It's moments like these that make me wonder why I care. Why do any of use care? What are we doing? We are not men. Surely, men don't behave like this.

*I made this word up. I think.

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