It’s funny how things go in the Sports World. One day the arena is packed, cowbells are defeaning and scalpers are unloading tickets at warp speed. Then the magic is gone, the sound of a basketball drible echos through an empty arena…and those need a hot dog are best advised to call ahead.
Kings Fans I feel your pain. As a New Yorker and a Northwestern alum, I can count the good times on one hand and only need a few digits from the other. 2 World Series, one college bowl victory, 3 Superbowl wins and one NBA Championship. In between a lot of frustration and a lot of change. Like sitting in the Play By Play booth at Northwestern calling 2 and a half seasons of blow outs, before describing a home team win. Too many last place finishes to count, and 20 years between the time Willis Reed strapped on a knee brace, Clyde Frazier checked his fur coat in the locker room, and Bill Bradley the only man to have the best jump shot at Madison Square Garden and the US Senate, snatched the title from the Lakers. Yeah, NYers had a big rivalry with them too.
There was that magical 1968 through 73 period, that brought the Miracle Mets, Boasting Broadway Joe Namath and the Biggest Super Bowl Upset and the Champion Knicks, featuring the late Dave De Busshere, who delighted us neighborhood kids in Garden City NY, swilling Schaffer beer as he mowed his own lawn. Long before Tall Guys who dribbled well were paid the GDP of your average South American country to try to put a ball in the net at make a valiant effort not to foul out before the 4th quarter.