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This special edition of Garden Party has similar vibes to my 2nd grade pool party in which the lifeguard was kidnapped and someone shit in the deep end.
East Quarterfinals Game 5 | Loss 112-106 (OT) vs. Sixers | Lead the series 3-2
Hey, remember when the Knicks stole Game 2 in dramatic and unbelievable fashion, the vibes were super high, and the Garden was shaking with excitement? Yeah, this was the bizarro version of that.
I won't recap the whole game, because it was pretty much the same as all the other games in this series. The Knicks started slow, there were a billion lead changes, Brunson was incredible, and Embiid was a punk bitch. Seriously, fuck that guy. I'm a very casual NBA fan, but my hatred for Joel Embiid is driving my intense passion for watching the Knicks send him to the omelette bar at the all-inclusive resort of his choosing. Actually, no. He doesn't get to choose. He has to go to some shitty Royalton in like Negril.
So anyway, the Knicks kept taking the lead in the 4th quarter and Tyrese Maxey kept taking it back. It went on like this for like 11.5 agonizing minutes until Deuce McBride hit a huge 14-footer to give the Knicks at 6-point lead with 28 GOD DAMN SECONDS left to play. Out loud, to my disinterested wife who was scrolling Pinterest, I said, "Wow, I think they're actually going to do it!"
But I forgot that sports is meant to emotionally brutalize you. Honestly, it's been a weird April. With the Rangers sweeping the Capitals, there haven't been any mornings where I've woken up and felt like my childhood pet died. This is probably the closest I've come. And yes, Pinterest is now banned from the house. Back to the hardwood, with the Knicks UP BY 6, Tyrese Maxey once again pulled up for a three-pointer AND SOMEHOW GOT FUCKING FOULED BY MITCHELL ROBINSON. First of all, I'm not sure why Mitchell Robinson is in the game at this point. And even if he's in the game, I'm not sure why he's way the hell out at the three-point line guarding Maxey. I'm sure there's some X's and O's explanation, but like I said, I'm a very casual NBA fan so you're not getting that kind of analysis here. All I know is there are two things you can't do in that situation: give up a three or commit a foul. Somehow the Knicks did BOTH.
So, of course, Maxey goes to the line and buries the free throw to complete a 4-point play and cut the lead to 2. On the other end, with the shot clock off, the Sixers needed to foul and they got Josh Hart with 15 seconds left to send him to the line. And, because SPORTS IS MEANT TO STOMP ON YOUR CHILI CHEESE CLOGGED HEART, he missed the first free throw. The Knicks have been brutal from the stripe, managing just 72.5% in the series which, if this was the regular season, would make them DEAD LAST IN THE FUCKING LEAGUE. Foul shot futility aside, Hart made the second one to push the lead back up to 3.
"Okay," you're probably saying. "Crisis averted. They'll just foul to prevent a game-tying 3-pointer and this series is over." NO YOU FUCKING MORON. WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS. SPORTS IS MEANT TO MAKE YOU WANT TO RUN INTO ONCOMING TRAFFIC IN DOWNTOWN DELHI.
The Knicks didn't foul, instead letting Tyrese Maxey get off a prayer of a shot from basically the half-court logo which OF FUCKING COURSE swished in no problem. Tie game. Overtime. Silence.
Obviously in overtime Embiid was still a punk bitch and got a flagrant foul for karate chopping Jalen Brunson on the head. It sent the MVP candidate to the foul line, down 4, for some crucial free throws. He only made one of them because sports is MEANT TO MAKE YOU MELT LIKE AN ICE CREAM CONE IN A LAS VEGAS PARKING LOT. But then the Knicks got the rebound and sunk a 3 to tie the game. Hope was once again pumping through midtown Manhattan.
BUT SPORTS IS MEANT TO MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE YOU GOT DROPKICKED BY AN AMAZONIAN WOMAN IN STILETTOS, so after falling behind by 2 with the clock running down, your star player who has been absolutely amazing this season will make a bad pass and throw the ball out of bounds to effectively end the game.
What a pain in the ass. Back to fucking Philadelphia for Game 6 on Thursday night, which will start at 9 FUCKING PM because apparently no one thinks that I have kids or work or any responsibilities... what the fuck is this, DINNER IN FUCKING SPAIN?!?
Go win please so I don't have to write any more of these. My fingers hurt. Embiid, you're still a punk bitch.