Gris-Gris, an online journal of literature, culture & the arts

On Why I Became a Knicks’ Fan

by Bruce Lowry

Because of Friday nights at the Garden.
Because chaos is more interesting than order.

Because the Brooklyn Nets
+++++bore the hell out of me.

Because Clyde Frazier, Spike Lee
+++the Knickerbockers’ name.
Because all-white warm-ups,

The ‘ol orange-n-blue, Melo
+++++raining 3-balls while
Willis Reed beats Chamberlain
+++++on bad knees.

I think Knicks, I think four kids in the Bronx
+++++beatup asphalt, rims with no nets.
I think four kids on a Louisiana playground,
+++++three black, one white, no foul to be found.

I think Quon Bell, Terry Cox and
++++++Jimmy Manning, ballers who
+++introduced themselves with elbows
+++++to the chin, and jive about my pimples.

They didn’t give a damn about my drunk father
++++ or dead sister, but sometimes
they’d feed me the ball,

And sometimes I’d hit a shot. Quon
+++++said I was ‘awful’
++around the basket, but “deadly’ from the corner.”

I see stubborn in the Knicks,
I see scowl on Terry’s face as he drains
++++ another jumper in my eyes.

I see the Knicks in home whites,
I see us in shirts and skins.