Next Year

Next year is here, baby!

This was the coolest I could make myself look while winking.

The Knicks are out but I’m still in.

Like a bad breakup, the Knicks elimination hit me hard. Actually, this is worse than a regular breakup because I’ve lost not just one boyfriend, but five. I love them equally, but for different reasons:

Jalen - the most dependable of my boyfriends. Jalen is on time for dates. He calls to make sure I get home safely (yes, we still go home to separate apartments - we’re taking it slow.). He’s not showy and he couldn’t flash a giant smile if he tried but when he does smile, it’s the sweetest thing ever.

Josh - ok, he chews Mike & Ike’s like gum and says “what’s that on your shirt?” and laughs way too hard before lifting his finger up to my chin, but that’s what’s great about him. He’s a kid. A kid who plays like a damned man and gets the job done. Which is hot.

KAT - Karl Anthony Towns can be careless and a little messy, but - Oh. My. God. When he’s on, he is SO on - this man brings it and brings it and keeps on bringing it. And if you think that’s a euphemistic way of saying I think he’d deliver in other ways, you are so very right.

Mikal - I can’t say enough about the sweet graceful beauty of my boyfriend Mikal. His Resting Smile Face touches me so. Yes, he can be quiet at times and has been critiqued for not getting physical enough, but…as his girlfriend, I’ll just say it - the man is physical as hell.

Mitchell - Anyone who thinks it’s a mistake to get involved with a dude on the rebound hasn’t seen the sincerity in this man’s eyes or the embarrassment that overtakes him when he misses a foul shot (which is often.) If you haven’t wanted to throw your arms around Mitchell and say “it’s okay - I still love you” then I’m sorry, you don’t have a heart. And if you haven’t thanked God for his presence under the basket, then I’m sorry, but you don’t have a brain.

I have friends who have no idea what I’m talking about when I go on this way and I feel a mixture of annoyance and pity for them because they’ve missed absolutely everything.

Two of my friends who get it the least won’t be named here to protect them from what would be embarrassment, if only they had the decency to be embarrassed. I’ll just say that their names rhyme with Wammy and Doozy. They know who they are.

When W&D texted last week to try to make dinner plans I wrote “If the Knicks are in, I’ll let you know what nights work. If they’re out, I’m wide open.” They responded as I knew they would - “Oh, for God’s sake,” one of them wrote.

Wammy and Doozy don’t have a clue-sy. One of them once asked if it was the Knicks or the Nets I liked.

I tried to explain the joy of having the Knicks do well in the playoffs to Doozy and I think she almost understood.

I reminded her of one late December night, when we were happily young and drunk and she shared an observation.

“You know what’s fun about this time of year?” Doozy asked. “You can say ‘Merry Christmas’ to pretty much anyone on the street and they’ll smile and say it back.”

We gave it a try. Strangers perked up and returned our loopy grins with sincerity and wished us the same. No matter that I didn’t celebrate Christmas and that Doozy was barely Christian - people were wishing us well and the walls of anonymity were broken for a few sweet seconds.

I felt that way during the pandemic, when at 7 each night, strangers cheered and waved to each other from rooftops and windows, and gathered in front of hospitals where health care workers stepped out like rock stars before an encore.

It’s the same now. Anyone in a Knicks t-shirt is my friend. No matter that we may have nothing else in common or hate each others’ politics - we all vote for the Knicks.

Exchanging “Go Knicks” with fellow fans after a win is magic and after a loss, it’s comforting.

Last week, before Game 4, I took a quick shower. By 6:55, I was dried off and ready to take my place on the sofa. Except that I couldn’t get out of the bathroom. The door was inexplicably jammed shut. My husband tried shoving a credit card into the crack. He slid a ruler under it so I could try from the inside. We jiggled the handle. He yelled “stand back,” (which was heroic and exciting, but his heaving himself against the door did nothing.)

I was in a panic - not at being locked in the bathroom, but about missing the game. Finally, a locksmith got me out. I hugged him (which was more than a little awkward, and way too familiar.) But he was a fan, so he understood. I was about to ask if he wanted to watch with us, but then he announced how much five minutes of labor cost and the urge passed. Still, as he left, we all said “Go Knicks” and did fist pumps.

I’ll miss everything about the games - the scurrying to get dinner sorted out, the superstitious taking of places in front of the TV, the way my son Ben coopted my Knicks cap during a game that they won and then wore it for every subsequent game because he liked it and I thought it was good luck. The way all four of us gripped armrests and paced and then erupted in cheers.

I’ll miss texting with my friends Zach, Danny, Alan, Doreen and Eric during games, always in all caps.

Mostly, I’ll miss the thrill. I’ll miss yelling “Go Knicks” to strangers in #11 jerseys. I’ll miss yelling at the TV. I’ll miss jumping off the sofa. I’ll miss the 90 minutes of frenzied excitement and anxious fretting that hinges on an orange ball falling through a wire circle. I’ll miss the beautiful squeak of sneakers on wood.

I wore my Knicks cap today and almost forgot about it until I saw a guy in a blue and orange “New York Forever” t-shirt.

“Go Knicks!” I said and he looked at me for a second like, “You do know it’s over, right?” so I added “Next year!” and he smiled broadly and said “hell yeah.”

I held my hand up for a high five which he didn’t return right away, so I took it down only to watch him slap at the empty air a second later.

It was poor execution on both our parts.

But we’ll be back.

And we’ll get it right.

Next year.