The day after the championship night, eighteen-year-old Anthony woke up and his knees stopped working. Without waiting for the draft envelope, he called David Falk first. I only leave five words to the outside world: I am a New Yorker. No workouts, no explanations, no begging the Knicks. The Garden was empty for too long, the Nets were playing in the Finals, and Dolan was scolded on the radio all night long. He marked himself as the son who must be taken home, forcing the 50-win Pistons to sell the second pick. The door to Red Hook is still there. Mary only asked one question: Are you really replying, or are you just showing it to others? June is not here yet. Whether New York recognizes him or not depends on who blinks first.
Reader comments
So shameless, I'll regret it for ten years if I don't read it
So shameless, I'll regret it for ten years if I don't read it