By Jason Keidel
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Adding a layer of frost to this premature winter, we find the Nets and Knicks are Naismith allergic. They can’t play offense or defense. They are injured. They are in discord and disarray. They are 4-11 and 3-12, respectively.
There’s this laughable notion that the Nets needed at least 20 games to coalesce. Why? Didn’t they acquire Paul Pierce and Kevin Garnett to improve the club? Why on earth would you forfeit a fourth of the season when the whole point was to avoid a murky start?
Even if the disparate parts could be remolded, they hired the wrong chemist. Jason Kidd didn’t let the ink cake on his retirement papers before he decided he wanted to be Phil Jackson. Frankly, Kidd is clueless.
When Jason Kidd isn’t drinking and driving, he’s spilling his drink on the hardwood to steal a few seconds with his listless club, to draw up a play fed to him by his myriad minions. He hires a phalanx of former coaches to instruct him on how to instruct them. And dropping Diet Coke on the floor was quite puerileemblematic of someone who’s clinging to his vocational life.
And the blasting Knicks is just too easy, the fruit hanging so low it’s scraping the salt-crusted concrete around MSG.
Had a chance to watch the Knickerbockers play the Denver Nuggets last night. In a game neither team wanted, the Knicks were just a bit more apathetic, and pathetic. The world knew Carmelo would take the last shot, so did the defender, practically a half-foot shorter, who blocked Anthony’s fadeaway jumper at the buzzer.
It was rather agonizing to watch a stoneage offense, five guys standing still and sprawled across the floor like fallen dominoes, watching each other dribble and shoot, with nary a pass to a teammate. But hey, at least Carmelo is the only player in the NBA to lead his team in scoring every game this season. That’s worth at least three wins.
Some people actully thought re-signing ball hog JR Smith to go with ball hog Carmelo Anthony made the team better. And, of course, signing Smith’s brother has added great depth to the club. Then there’s Ron Artest, he of the Malice in the Palace fame. Nothing like a washed-up cruiserweight to add punch to a team.
The franchise and the future was corrupt long before the artist formerly known as Artest blessed the scene. The Knicks have no one to inspire the team, a bunch of hardwood narcissists who want the ball but no blame when it all goes sideways. You could say it starts with Carmelo Anthony, but he was one-dimensional and overrated before the Knicks traded for him.
It starts up top. As long as Jimmy Dolan holds the remote, there’s not a remote chance his basketball club can even sniff a championship. But alas, you can’t fire the owner. But as Christmas nears, you can at least put it on your list.
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