Around the time I turned 12, a boy named Dave Kirschner joined my Sunday/Hebrew school class. He, like me, was a wise-cracking kid, and we became fast friends. He had moved to Milford from New York, and I got a kick out of his heavy Noo Yawk accent. He also was a big fan of the Knicks, and he turned me into one, too.
That 1972-73 season, the Knicks won their second NBA title in four years. They were fun to watch, with two selfless superstars in Walt "Clyde" Frazier and Willis Reed; three very good supporting players in Dave DeBusschere, Bill Bradley and Earl "The Pearl" Monroe; and solid role players such as Jerry Lucas, Dean Meminger and Phil Jackson (yes, that Phil Jackson).
I fell so in love with the team that I started keeping scrapbooks on the Knicks. Looking back, it was my first foray into writing, and it wouldn't be a leap to say that my devotion to the scrapbooks I kept on all of my favorite teams would play a role in pushing me toward my eventual, decades-long career.
I remained a big Knicks fan into my college years, even though they became a shadow of their former selves. They had some good seasons, but they never seriously threatened for anything remotely close to another championship.
After I started writing for the AP, I gave up most of my fan allegiances, including the Knicks. I had sportswriter friends who actually did a decent job of staying reasonably objective despite rooting for certain teams, but I decided early on that wasn't for me.
So when the Knicks got back to the NBA Finals in 1994 and 1999, it really didn't matter to me that they lost both times. Nor did it matter to me that they mostly stunk after the calendar turned to the new millennium.
By the time I left the sportswriting world and moved from Chicago to Charlotte in 2010, I was ready to be a fan again. I naturally chose to root for the local teams: The Panthers fairly quickly became contenders behind Cam Newton and Luke Kuechly before becoming laughingstocks again; the Hornets were lousy for most of my 14 years in North Carolina.
Moving to Seattle in 2024, I traded in the Panthers for the Seahawks ... and I was rewarded with a Super Bowl championship in my second year here. Lucky me! I also cheer for the Kraken, Storm, and especially the Mariners; it's great to have Major League Baseball in my town again. Unfortunately, we don't have an NBA team, though it looks like the SuperSonics might be reborn as an expansion franchise in the next few years.
As I watched this year's NBA playoffs, I was impressed with the Thunder's talent, depth and defensive toughness, and I was enthralled with the Spurs' young core, especially 7-4 freak Victor Wembanyama.
I seriously considered betting on the Spurs to win the title before the season, as their odds were +6600 (meaning a $100 wager would net bettors $6,600 if the Spurs won it all), but I chickened out. So I was conflicted as I watched San Antonio beat Oklahoma City to advance to the Finals - I liked the team, but I would have felt serious regret if the Spurs went all the way. (Then again, I would have been a screaming-at-the-TV wreck had I made the bet!)
The team I really grew to respect most, though, was New York.
I followed the Knicks a little bit during the season because one of my favorite Marquette players, Tyler Kolek, was their backup point guard. He had a really nice run for a month or two - even eliciting chants of "Tyler! Kolek!" from the Madison Square Garden faithful. After one of his best games, Knicks star PG Jalen Brunson said: "Thank God for Tyler Kolek!" But Kolek is small, and he's a defensive liability, so the Knicks traded for Jose Alvarado to back up Brunson, and Tyler's playing time went way down. In the playoffs, he got on the court only at the end of blowouts (aka "garbage time"), and he didn't play a single minute in the NBA Finals.
Despite Kolek's severely reduced role, I still really liked watching the Knicks during the postseason, as they reminded me a bit of the team of my youth. Brunson is their stud, their Walt Frazier; he's not the defensive standout Clyde was, but he's tough, he's amazing at finding shots for himself, and he's incredible in the clutch. Their other starters (Karl-Anthony Towns, Josh Hart, Mikal Bridges, OG Anunoby) are very good, and they have some nice bench pieces, too. They played well together, shared the basketball, seemed to get along great, played tough defense and were well-coached.
Even though I didn't dislike the Spurs, I couldn't help but root for the Knicks in the Finals, and they provided thrilling sports theater - showing why live sports is the only true and only great "reality TV." The Knicks fell behind by double-digits in every game ... and then they rallied every time, winning four of the five.
In Game 4, they trailed by 29 points (!!!) before storming back, winning on Anunoby's almost miraculous tip-in.
They were behind big again in Game 5 in San Antonio, but again they came back. Brunson was especially awe-inspiring, finishing with 45 points.
Back home in New York, the celebration was wild, as Knicks fans saw it as 53 years of demons being exorcised.
In 1973 ...
The Watergate hearings dominated the news ... gas averaged 39 cents per gallon ... All in the Family was TV's No. 1 show ... the Miami Dolphins completed the NFL's only perfect season ... The Godfather won the Oscar, Secretariat captured the Triple Crown ... Jim Croce died in a plane crash ... Billie Jean King beat Bobby Riggs in The Battle of the Sexes ... NASA launched Skylab ... the Supreme Court, in its landmark Roe v. Wade decision, gave women the right to control their own bodies ... O.J. Simpson ran for 2,000 yards ... and minimum wage was $1.60 per hour.
On May 10, 1973, the Dow stood at 939.34, down 11% from its all-time high (en route to a 45% plunge over a two-year span).
Later that night, Frazier and Reed led the Knicks to the championship.
How long ago was that? Well, I was studying for my Bar Mitzvah. Now I'm on freakin' Medicare!
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I was sad to read recently about the passing of former Milwaukee Sentinel sportswriter Cathy Breitenbucher, who died at age 69 after a fight with ovarian cancer.
Roberta, who worked part-time at the Sentinel for a short spell, remembers Cathy as a very kind person, which also is my memory of her. In addition, she was a major player in a scene that has stuck with me for decades ...
In the early-1990s, Milwaukee was being considered for an NHL expansion franchise, and Cathy and I were among the many sportswriters in Chicago to cover an NHL Board of Directors meeting at the tony Drake Hotel downtown. After the meeting, a large group of us had dinner in the Drake's expensive restaurant.
At that time, the Sentinel was Milwaukee's "second" newspaper, competing with the bigger and more profitable Journal. Cathy's tiny travel budget didn't include an outrageously priced dinner, so she drank water and ordered the cheapest thing on the menu. The rest of us, meanwhile, ate and drank like kings and queens on our companies' dimes. When the check came, Gary Olson of the St. Paul Pioneer Press proposed that we just split it evenly, but Cathy objected. Gary said: "Come on, Cathy, you aren't really paying for the food; you're paying for the company." Cathy looked right at Gary and, in a perfect deadpan voice, said: "Well, the company's not that great." The rest of us cracked up, and we agreed that Cathy should only have to pay for the food she ordered.
Milwaukee never did get an NHL team, the Sentinel and Journal eventually merged, and I lost track of Cathy. I came to learn that she co-authored an impactful book on Alzheimer's caregiving.
Cancer has stolen another valuable life. RIP, Cathy.
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