New York Stand-Up. Or Not.

During a 400-meter qualifier of the 1992 Summer Olympics in Barcelona, a scene unfolded that has stuck with me until today — and I’m someone who can’t remember what he did on Saturday. A British runner named Derek Redmond tore his hamstring late in the race, hopped a few times, and collapsed onto the track. He lay there like he’d been shot; and while the winners were celebrating after crossing the finish line, he slowly rose to his feet and began limping pathetically toward the finish line. A few minutes and several dozen hops and leg-drags later, his dad burst onto the track and helped him shuffle across the finish line. (Here’s a video; pardon the corny narrative.) Sure Redmond didn’t win anything other than the sort of global pity usually reserved for Kansas City Royals fans, but he finished the race, which was pretty gangster, considering he was crying. And only, like, a billion-two were watching.

I was thinking of him the other day when I witnessed the New York Knicks lose their sixth straight game and still limp toward what is an almost certain playoff berth. (As of today, they are 4 1/2 games up, with eight games to play.) Sure they will eventually cross that finish line, staggering drunkenly. But without someone to help them — like, you know, several of their players — it’s going to be a long, miserable trip to the playoffs.

To a certain extent, this limping has gone on for nearly 40 years. Being a Knicks fan has, more often than not, been a burden to many of us who are over 30. Because our identity was more Toby Knight and less Bernard King, more Kenny “Sky” Walker and less… someone remotely talented.

There were a few years in the mid ’90s where the Knicks were beating the hell out of teams, and that was sure fun to watch. There were t-shirts that said, “Make ’Em Feel Ya” and everything. So what if we lost to the Bulls every year? Everyone lost to the Bulls every year.

But our identity, as long-suffering, yet extremely knowledgeable and good-looking fans, has been cemented by the fact that, instead of championships, we are forced to talk about Madison Square Garden being the basketball Mecca, albeit a Mecca regularly ransacked by the likes of the Grizzlies and the Nets. “We don’t win games, but we’re still New York and everyone still wants to play here. Except for… never mind.”

Two weeks ago, it seemed like the Knicks were going to be a troublesome opponent in the playoffs; two Top 5 scorers, a savvy point guard, a rookie ball of energy and a couple of lunch-pail role players. The trade to bring Carmelo Anthony to the team for a bunch of players that will never be part of a championship run (except maybe Ray Felton) was a sound basketball decision. With all of those players, they were a .500 team; in the near future (as in, next year at this time), they can be much, much more. This, despite the team’s current burden of trying to figure out how to get meaningful minutes out of “players” like Anthony “Fat Tattoos” Carter and Jared “Boo Radley, Jr.” Jeffries.

We knew that when Melo came over, either he or Amar’e Stoudamire would have to sacrifice for the team. And so we were okay with Stoudamire being a Scottie Pippen and assuming the sidekick role. But we weren’t prepared for him to become Pippin Took, fifth most important hobbit in the Shire. More often than not, Stoudamire appears to be one of those National Geographic frogs that blend into a leaf, in camouflage as he watches Carmelo do his thing.

Let me give you a best-case scenario over the final two weeks: the Knicks split half of their remaining games and stagger into the playoffs like Lady Gaga into 1Oak. Then they luck out and play the Heat, who out-suck the Knicks over a short series, and the Knicks move on to get pummeled by a team with a deeper rotation and more than seven guys who can tie their shoes and chew gum at the same time.

Worst case? They continue their Metsian death spiral, lose the rest of their games, fall out of the playoffs, GM Donnie Walsh’s wheelchair spontaneously combusts and Isiah Thomas shows up at 2011 training camp in a golf cart driven by Stephon Marbury. New coach? Bill Laimbeer.

Well, as I write this, the Knicks have tried desperately to throw the game away against the Orlando Magic before eventually winning in overtime, 113–106.

But down the stretch, they had the game in the bag and then nearly let it slip away, despite Carmelo’s 39 points. Not good. The mixed result doesn’t prove which ending is more likely, which is just as well. We know how this race will ultimately end and it will not be nearly as pretty as our arena. Just ask us.

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here.

Photo by Daniel Morris.