Knicksing for Godot

Another season in the books that should make anyone with a brain wonder:

Why the fuck are there still Knicks fan?

Yet again, another orange-and-blue campaign has been felled by the franchise’s now-signature brew of gross incompetency cut with unfathomable bad luck.

Luckily (for James Dolan), being a Knicks fan is walking-and-talking existential philosophy to me:

It’s all about investing in inevitable doom, despite the crippling pain it brings, because the fleeting moments of joy make the daily pursuit all the more worthwhile.

Success means nothing if it’s handed over. It must be earned, through suffering; it’ll taste that much sweeter on the other side.

There is absolutely no sane reason to be a Knicks fan. Why sign up for misery?

And that’s exactly the reason to be a Knicks fan.

We’re the opposite of bandwagon frontrunners. If life isn’t about believing in the possibility of hope and change, despite all evidence to the contrary, then why the fuck do we even continue to wake up in the morning?

And that’s why I’m proud to represent the Knicks, and to have them represent me.

Sports, am I right.

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