The Knicks Fix

Last night’s triple-overtime roller-coaster was one of the wildest experiences I have had as a sportswriter. When you’re watching the game at home, it probably doesn’t dawn on you – nor should it, really – that as the game went from a 19-point Knicks lead in the fourth quarter to a collapse that led to overtime after overtime after overtime, there were six beat writers sitting just to the side of the Knicks bench, behind the broadcasters, furiously pounding their keyboards changing a story that was changing right before our eyes.

One of my colleagues joked to me that he probably lost the Pulitzer last night. No kidding. My story for our first edition, which was originally due at 11:15 p.m. New York time, was shaping up rather well when the Knicks seemed to be cruising toward a 1-0 start to the season. At this point, you’re rooting for the story, just hoping the Knicks stay far enough ahead that all you need to do is plug in the final score and hit the send button.

But then the lead shrinks to 10 with five minutes to go. Then it’s 6. Then 4. Then 2.

Then it’s tied. Then Jamal Crawford misses a three-pointer just before the buzzer. And you think . . . uh oh.

The 650-word story you had crafted is now useless, especially if the Knicks somehow lose the game in overtime. So you edit and update, all while keeping one eye on the court to follow the play. It’s intense. The crowd is louder. Your heart races. Your wrists are sore from leaning on the laptop, which is alarmingly hot. You try to proofread, doing your best to make sure there are no mistakes. An editor will check for spelling errors and typos, but at that late stage of the night, he or she can’t look up facts.

You check things such as: the last time the Knicks won a season opener (five years ago, under Jeff Van Gundy). The last time the Knicks were over .500 (Jan 6, 2005, when they were 16-15 under Lenny Wilkens). Did the Knicks ever blow a 19-point fourth-quarter lead under Larry Brown?

And, as you repeatedly look over your shoulder, what is owner Jim Dolan’s reaction to all of this?

We coach a little, too. “Jamal – NO!” We growl about Crawford taking the final critical shots when Quentin Richardson clearly was in the zone all game. It’s now past 11:30 p.m. in New York. The editor says to hang in there and send once the game is over. But it seems like it’ll never end. A third overtime begins. Now just about everything I wrote in the fourth quarter is useless.

So much for the Pulitzer, indeed.

Finally a winner. Richardson sinks the free throws. Crawford redeems himself by making a clean steal to set up the winning points. Isiah Thomas has his first win as a Knicks coach. The Knicks celebrate and we wonder why they’re so happy. They blew a 19-point lead to a team that was without it’s star player, Pau Gasol. Had he been in the lineup, who knows what the outcome would have been?

Hit send. Hustle to the press room to put the laptop down and grab a notebook. Off to the locker room. Editor says you have about 20 minutes until the final edition story needs to be filed. That’s not as much time as you think. Thomas is beaming and proud, which again leaves us a little confused. In the room, the team seems relieved, but defiantly upbeat. Very united. Crawford is enjoyably candid. “Could I miss another shot?” he asks me. “Man, I had to do something defensively.” He did and it is well documented. Of course, so is his 4-for-22 effort from the field. Some things you just can’t overlook.

Back to the press room to try to make a more readable version of the story, with quotes. Editor calls, “Sending yet?” I glance at my watch. Damn, I forgot we’re in the Central Time Zone. I promise him it’ll be there in a minute. A quick proofread and send.

And then . . . exhale.

It’s 12:30 local time – 1:30 a.m. in New York – when we finally leave the arena. Ken Berger is hungry. I am too and still too wired for sleep. We find the one place that is still open and still serving food. Westy’s, it’s called. Two other writers join us and we eat and talk about what we just witnessed and lament the things we might have forgotten to mention in our stories.

One of us orders cheese-covered tater tots. It wasn’t me, nor was it Ken. But it’s a good example of why most sportswriters look the way they do. We’re wired, it’s late at night and we’re eating cheese-covered tater tots. It’s the life. Not always a healthy one, but it’s the life.

Finally back in my room with heavy eyes and a full stomach, yet with my mind still racing. I put in my MP3 earbuds and choose a little meditation music. George Winston. No lyrics, just relaxing.

My mind goes to a moment when Knicks radio commentator John Andriese walked by me and smiled. “Your first game, right?”

They sure made it memorable for me.