A New York state of depression
THESE are the tears (or blood, if you will) of the New York Knicks who recently lost Game Seven of the NBA Finals in Houston.
These are the sobs of all the Knicks fans (including me) who saw their team go down like a bunch of Davey Crocketts at the Alamo.
Whoever said real men don't cry did not witness the Knicks and their supporters after the game.
Granted (and begrudgingly) the Houston Rockets had a fair game and made fewer mistakes under enormous pressure. Sam Cassell, displaying poise undue a rookie, played a great fourth quarter and nailed a key three-pointer.
OK, so all of Hakeem Olajuwon's prayers were answered as he sank the crucial baskets (making basket cases of all the Knicks fans), while doing an incredible defensive job on Patrick Ewing, rattling the New York centre and forcing him to make an unusual number of turnovers, especially in the first half.
Big deal. Because despite the tears, we New York fans are still in a state of shock and disbelief. Even Derek Harper refused to believe it. The New York guard was at the free-throw line with his team down by eight points with less than four minutes in the game, and he was smiling.
As John Starks' attempted three-point shot after three-point shot and as they all kept refusing to go in, he was shaking his head and smiling.
At least Starks, New York's long-range man, confirmed something I had long suspected: the three-pointer in the play-offs is the only thing more fickle than a woman's heart.
Just ask Starks (who missed 11 threes) or any Knicks fan who watched the game. The three-pointer giveth and the three taketh it away.
Perhaps when they release all of New York and me from our ''suicide watch'', we can begin to address all the whys and wherefores of that last game. In the meantime, the Knicks and coach Pat Riley will second-guess themselves, replay each quarter again and again, and agonise about their seventh game hell that will last until next season, or longer.
The Knicks didn't really lose, did they? Because if they did, all the New York fans and I may not be responsible for our actions.
We might not return our KPS videos by 10 pm. Or we might just all jump into our Ford Broncos, hunt down our ex-wives and force them to watch the World Cup soccer.
But before we do, we have just one last message: hey Houston, how about Game Eight? Double or nothing.