The Knicks, Bernard King, Patrick Ewing, Bad Lieutenant, John Ganz, Barry Lopez, and the ambient gangster noise of 1980's and early 90's New York City.
Tom, I’d read your work for the footnotes alone, “weaving and achieving” great heights connecting Ewing, Salinger, and Kurt Cobain, Raymond Carver, and Richard Locke. I was in NYC orbiting your circle and literary influence in that golden, though ultimately heartbreaking era of Knicks basketball in the 90s (I saw Nirvana at the Coliseum, now The Shops at Columbus Circle, and was crestfallen the day he died). Somewhere I have a signed headshot of Anthony Mason I waited on line for at the grand opening of a Nobody Beats the Wiz in Syracuse, New York, and kept the now-vintage Oakley’s Car Wash t-shirt I sent to my dad one Father’s Day. Seeing Ewing play ball in Seattle was so strange, even stranger, a few in the wild encounters/sightings in downtown Seattle, him seeming so lost and out of time. Being down 0-2 on the road against the Pacers seems very “same as it ever was.” But even with a bruised and broken spirit built on false hope and missed layups, I still want to believe in miracles.
P.S. I missed "I saw Nirvana at the Coliseum." I was there, too. I have not thought enough about that show and that ghost space, thanks for reminding me.
Breeders opened for them. If I remember correctly, the windowless venue had claustrophobically low ceilings that cast an industrial parking lot vibe. "Ghost space," indeed.
Great article. Bernard King is my all-time favorite Knick. I used to take the subway to MSG in the 1980s and watch the game in the blue seats with my college ID for about $4.
Ditto. The fact that a trip to the garden ranks just below sending your kid to college on the list of life’s big ticket items is… deeply annoying and a shame, really.
Tom, I’d read your work for the footnotes alone, “weaving and achieving” great heights connecting Ewing, Salinger, and Kurt Cobain, Raymond Carver, and Richard Locke. I was in NYC orbiting your circle and literary influence in that golden, though ultimately heartbreaking era of Knicks basketball in the 90s (I saw Nirvana at the Coliseum, now The Shops at Columbus Circle, and was crestfallen the day he died). Somewhere I have a signed headshot of Anthony Mason I waited on line for at the grand opening of a Nobody Beats the Wiz in Syracuse, New York, and kept the now-vintage Oakley’s Car Wash t-shirt I sent to my dad one Father’s Day. Seeing Ewing play ball in Seattle was so strange, even stranger, a few in the wild encounters/sightings in downtown Seattle, him seeming so lost and out of time. Being down 0-2 on the road against the Pacers seems very “same as it ever was.” But even with a bruised and broken spirit built on false hope and missed layups, I still want to believe in miracles.
Thank you, Brad. "Weaving and achieving" is very good! The poetry of the Walts - Whitman and Frazier - is alive in you.
P.S. I missed "I saw Nirvana at the Coliseum." I was there, too. I have not thought enough about that show and that ghost space, thanks for reminding me.
Breeders opened for them. If I remember correctly, the windowless venue had claustrophobically low ceilings that cast an industrial parking lot vibe. "Ghost space," indeed.
Great article. Bernard King is my all-time favorite Knick. I used to take the subway to MSG in the 1980s and watch the game in the blue seats with my college ID for about $4.
Ditto. The fact that a trip to the garden ranks just below sending your kid to college on the list of life’s big ticket items is… deeply annoying and a shame, really.
Yeah, it is a shame. No way my kids can afford to go to a Knicks game.
With all due respect to Ben Stiller, isn’t Spike Lee the Jack Nicholson of the Garden?
Good point. Spike is without question the Jack Nicholson of the Garden.
Which raises the question, who is the Ben Stiller of Staples/Crypto.com arena?
(Timothée Chalamet can be addressed at a later date.)