#i think its going to be a thing that julius wakes me up at 4:30 every morning ugh

[cuteteacakes]

G'night!

[ifuseethisturnback-blog]

My first blog! Lots of editing to do. But here

A letter to James Dolan Picture this: It is a Friday afternoon. You are in midtown Manhattan stuck in your miserable cubicle perfecting the spreadsheets that your 29 year old boss (You are 34) told you to complete for his presentation to the potential investor next week. He has littered the office with motivational posters about how hard work beats talent when talent fails to work hard. This is ironic, because you lack both talent and motivation. A rare breed you are. He starts off every morning meeting with a new quote that he found on google about teamwork. Now, he sits you down, and says “listen up, kid (You are 34) I have spent the last 6 months building this startup from the ground, with nothing but elbow grease and a reasonable loan from my fiancées father. We finally have a chance for a breakthrough here, and I need you to be on your A game with these spreadsheets. As he walks out of your lifeless workspace, he takes the last strawberry candy from the extremely tasteful candy bowl you so elegantly placed in the corner desk. You are on the verge of tears now. This was the last candy and you were saving it for after lunch. Why would he take the last candy? Sure, you put the bowl there for coworkers to munch on and, well, if they come take a strawberry candy they HAVE to talk to you. But this was the LAST candy. You won’t be able to restock until tomorrow when you wake up in your studio alone and walk to Duane Reade with a 50% off coupon and argue with the cashier about the expiration date. You know it’s expired, but pay full price for a bag of candy at Duane Reade? That’s just not in your nature, now is it? Internally, you are about to snap. But just as you reach your breaking point, your phone begins to ring. It’s “Mike from college” calling. Wow, he hasn’t answered your last 6 texts. Do you think he’s just seeing them all now and feels the friendly urge to tell you that he never meant to ignore your “what’s the move tonight” text that you sent 3 times? You answer the phone. Eagerly. Way too eagerly. “Mike? Mike? Is that you MIKE.” The hesitation in his voice speaks volumes. The initial silence is louder than a sonic blast. But you aren’t the type of guy who notices these things. “Hey bud…how you been? Got an extra ticket to the Knicks game tonight. They are playing the Wizards at the garden, and was curious if you wanted to come.” Your face lights up. “Holy shit Mike, I would love to! Is it just us??” “Yeah…I only have 2 tickets, and I haven’t been able to find a single person to take it.” You ignore this implication that you are Mike’s last resort. You have one talent, and that is selective hearing. And damn you are good. “Well count me IN, man! Wanna meet up for drinks before?” “Let’s just meet up at the front gate man.” This sounds great to you. You get sweaty and your lips and fingers swell when you drink. You have a medically diagnosed extremely severe case of GERD anyway, so you were never able to keep up with mike and the fellas. So you finish up your spreadsheets, hand them to your boss (He’s 29) and get ready to go home and put on your childhood Patrick Ewing jersey that still fits because you didn’t make it past 5’7”. Now, its 7:30. You and Mike take your level 200 seats and you can’t help but gawk at the view. “Mike!” you say. “These seats are UNBELIEVEABLE” Of course, you hear Mike, but you somehow don’t notice him rolls his eyes as he unenthusiastically says “Yeah man, they are ok.” You are in awe of the light show, the spectacle that this organization puts on. As they introduce the 5 starting power forwards you can’t help but notice how electric the crowd is. People of all cultures unified as one. It’s a full house in the Garden tonight, as it always is. The raucous crowd lives and dies with every single basket. You howl in agony as Julius Randle misses a wide open layup, and you shriek in ecstasy when he gets his own rebound and is able to tie the game at 20. The game ebbs and flows, and you clutch Mikes arm and beg him to stand up so you have a better chance at catching a flying T-shirt. One wizzes right over your head. “Mike, imagine if you got on my shoulders? We could have totally snagged that one!” You have never BEEN so giddy. Mike must be stressed about the game- it’s been a while since he acknowledge your requests to start a “wave” with him. You understand, it’s a heck of a close game. 4th Quarter and it’s tied at 68 a pop. Can you believe? The boys actually have a chance to win this one! You never want to leave this environment. Thousands of people all unified with you in your despair but unabashed optimism. Now there is only 20 seconds left in the game. The crowd absolutely shakes. It is unlike anything you have ever seen before. Warriors fans weren’t this loud when the team was about to win its 2nd straight title. Marcus Morris shakily dribbles the ball up court as the clock ticks down. 10,9,8. As the air tight defense of the injury riddled Wizards move up to blanket him, he manages to get the ball to the power forward that is playing shooting guard. Bobby Portis backs down his defender, and you instinctively place your hands over Mikes, desperate for emotional support. He almost didn't notice how clammy they were. Almost. 4 seconds left now. With nobody who has ever attempted a 3 in their careers on the court, Portis knows his best option is to get the ball to Mitch Robinson in the paint. He heaves the ball up in desperate hope. 3 seconds left, and as Mitch catches the ball 2 feet from the hoop, you can feel the vibrations on your feet of all the fans seizing at such an unfamiliar situation. 1 second left. Mitch dunks the ball as time expires. THAT’S IT! The Knicks win! Walt Clyde Frazier shouts. The screams reverberate throughout the entire facility. Strangers hug. The Garden is roaring. You clumsily grasp for Mike. The Kicks have won their 4th preseason game 76-75 and Mike tells you that he has plans after the game but can you venom him 120 bucks whenever you get the chance? Thanks. Mike and the narrator may not be real, but the infectious atmosphere of MSG during even a routine and pointless preseason game is. This is, of course a blessing and a curse. All the Knicks woes and misfortunes come down to one common theme. James Dolan. The Clown prince of New York. Jimmy could almost be a sympathetic figure. The only reason he isn’t is because he is a gross, cold hearted, relentlessly aggressive dictator who has imprisoned an entire cities fan base into a pit of shame and mockery. Other than that, you almost feel bad for the guy. You see, there is one commonalty between us and him. It is that the Knicks are all we have. Excluding his prodigious band “JD and the straight shots” the New York Rangers/Liberty and Madison Square Garden as whole. But you get the point perhaps. Dolan is a stubborn pillock, but knows the value of what he owns. The Knicks are a money printing MACHINE, and while their head coaches may change every 18 months, that truth will remain absolute. I won’t speak with 100 percent conviction what makes Jimmy tick. Why he acts the way he does. Why he lashes out so extravagantly and embarrasses himself on an annual basis. But I feel justified in explaining why he won’t sell the team. It is a business that he is in charge of. He has stockholders to answer to, and he is, of course stubborn as a mule. One thing that might make you feel better: He is as miserable as the rest of us. There is only one way the Knicks escape from his clutches. An offer he can’t refuse. While that perhaps not impossible, there HAS to be another way. This is where I speak to Jim directly. Please, for the love of God…just get out of the way. If you can’t give up the team, just give up the reigns. We know every decision the Knicks make go through you. The management is absolutely despicable. They remain because they are loyal to you. This is how dictatorship usually works. Here, the best man for the job won’t stay, just the guys who kisses ass. It is time to face the facts. You are not capable of running the Knicks yourself. You knew that about the Rangers. You gave up the reigns with them, and they are a pretty respectable team historically and recently. Hell, does anybody outside of New York even realize you own the Rangers? You MUST be able to see that this has gone too far. You are in a hole you cannot escape from. The world of basketball sees you as a joke, and more notably a cancer. This is the type of perspective one does not simply change or escape from. If you won’t sell, you have but one way out of this mutually painful partnership: HIDE. Just remove yourself from the spotlight. Give someone else the power. GET OUT OF THE WAY. If it works, go ahead and congratulate yourself. You still own the team. But while you are still the guy at the head of the table…nobody will take us seriously. Please Jim, set us free.