At the risk of putting my health in harm’s way, I’m going to discuss my beloved New York Knicks’ draft.
My Knicks selected Latvian big man Kristaps Porzingis with the fourth overall pick in the 2015 NBA draft. This was when Duke’s Justise Winslow, China’s Emmanuel Mudiay, Kentucky’s Willie Cauley-Stein and Croatia’s Mario Hezonja were still on the board.
You read that right. We drafted some stiff out of a remote European country when more talented prospects were available.
I wish I could say how surprised and appalled I was at the draft pick. I wish I could be shocked at how basketball president Phil Jackson could have gotten that pick wrong. However, that would mean I would have to forget decades of futility in the draft.
Here’s a bit of trivia for y’all. Who was the last Knicks first-round pick that has been selected for at least one All-Star Game and All-NBA Team? You guessed it: Patrick Ewing, class of 1985.
I was in middle school in 1985. My Knicks had not had a meaningful player on that level in 30 friggin years! UGH!
Yet in spite of the horrendous drafting of years’ past (Frederic Weis, anyone?), I had a modicum of hope. Sure, we had the fourth pick in the draft, but at least there was a bevy of players that could have helped us in the draft.
Those damn Lakers drafting D’Angelo Russell? Sure that hurt, but at least there were Winslow, Mudiay and Hezonja’s swag around that would have salvaged our draft.
Until I heard the following announcement…
“With the fourth pick of the 2015 NBA Draft, the New York Knicks select Kristaps Porzingis from Latavia.”
Oh hell no. HELL NO.
My head fell straight to my desk. Lots of yelled obscenities followed. My beloved Knicks have fucked me yet again.
And yes, I know that Jackson and Co. managed to trade for Notre Dame baller Jerian Grant after said debacle. That still didn’t make up for that horrific draft pick.
Sure, that Porzingis could turn out to be a good player. Hell, based on his potential he could become a star in this league.
I doubt it, simply because he has the look of yet another European stiff that even my five-year-old son could post up and snag rebounds against.
As you can see, life is hard as a Knicks fan. Why I allow those clowns to torment me and shave years off of my already short life expectancy is anyone’s guess.
Pray for me y’all…
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