As I'm sure you've heard, training camp was supposed to start today. As I'm sure you've also heard, training camp will not be starting today. Don't fret, though because today begins my deluge of the weird-ass works of of Knicks-related fiction (Knicktion) that have accumulated in my inbox. Just to refresh everybody: About a month ago, I opened a contest in which P&T friends could submit works of Knicktion to be read, judged, and voted upon by the P&T community. I received a decent number of submissions (and, though the deadline has passed, I probably won't stop more of you from submitting in the near future) and am now ready to present them. After this first one, I think I'll post two a day-- one soon after I wake up (I wake up pretty early these days! Like an adult! It's crazy!) and one in the early afternoon.
A few notes on the pool of submissions as a whole: Some are prose, some are poetry, some are floetry. All were acceptable. None of the submissions have been in any way edited by me (although I'll probably have to play with some formatting), but in some instances, I sent the submission back to its composer for a bit of proofreading. No matter what, please be respectful in the comments. But you knew that. Without further ado, take the jump to read the first piece of Knicktion!
Twas The Night of the Big Game
Twas the night of the big game and all through the house
the Knick fans had gathered plus me and my spouse
Our beers were set forth in their holders with care
And we both looked around to see who else was there
We saw Woody and Oprah, Spike Lee and Fat Joe
Blumberg and Bieber and Dolan(that shmoe)
Out came the players by ones and by twos
First were the Celts to a chorus of boos
Then the lights dimmed and the scoreboard blazed
And out trot our Knicks, the cheering was crazed
The game started off with Rhondo that punk
Stealing the ball and making a dunk
Then Pierce and Ray Allen and Big Baby hit
"Defense!" we screamed, "Your playing like shit!"
At halftime the Celtics by twenty points led
Spike looked pissed off and I thought we were dead
But then in the third things started to turn
When Shumpy and Jorts got in for some burn
Ray Allen launched one. "No not again."
But Shumpert just smacked it back into row 10.
Shumpert hits Jorts with a quick little pass
2 points for Jorts and Garnet on his ass
Shumpy strips Rhondo again and again
By the end of the third the lead's only ten
Then in the fourth the starters come back
Amare and Melo renew the attack
Their lead up to eight then back down to four
Stat steals the ball, runs the length of the floor
and jams on Big Baby who fouls out, he's done
Stat makes the free throw and Knicks down by one.
Shump steals the ball as quick as a quark
and passes to Melo who's outside the arc
He buries the three without much ado
Two seconds left and the Knicks are up two
Pierce gets the ball at the top of the key
pumps right, rises up and launches a three
Quiet descends, all eyes on the ball
We've been here before
and always it's Paul
But then out of nowhere a blue blurr appears
Dreadlocks a-flying, grin out to his ears
With a wild scream heard throughout the whole place
He smashes the ball into Paul Pierce's face
Then raises his fist still with that wide grin
The crowd goes ballistic, game over, Knick's win.
Celtics Aghast, shock on their faces
Pierce writhes in pain, nose broke in three places
Blood dripping down all over the floor
While fans all aglow, head for the door
On Lala, On Beiber, On Dolan On Spike
On Lohan, On Stiller, On too Mayor Mike
On The whole world, except Boston Mass.
Whose fans I invite to come kiss my ass.