On This Day in 1995…Ewing Misses Layup

Not on That Day

It’s going to take me a little while to get back into the sports blogging rhythm. Truth be told, the Cornell loss yesterday took the wind out of my sails. I’m recovering, but it’s not an immediate thing. Give me a little time. Maybe this evening I’ll be able to come back at full strength.

I know now though that all will be right again. As Memorial Day reminded me, sports mean very little, in terms of what transpires on the field. Sports can, however, prove to be fertile ground for very important things, very important people, very important stories. For those that need an illustration, this ESPN piece is a good one. The tale of Lou Brissie is another sterling example.

That is not to say what occurs day in and day out on the playing fields means nothing. These games provide entertainment, a distraction that is frequently welcome. The fact that I choose to root for teams that rarely provide any sense of personal satisfaction or enjoyment is a different discussion unto itself.

The good thing about all those years of sports fandome disappointment is that memories can just as easily be fleeting and forgotten. In clicking around the Interwebs earlier, Hoopedia provided a perfect reminder. You see, I’d all but forgotten about this play that occurred nearly 15 years ago on this day.

For those of you who still recall being a Knicks fan back in the semi-glory days, this play should come back relatively quickly in startling clarity. Take a walk down memory lane. Reading about that play provides solace that this most recent pain of a excruciating sporting loss too shall pass.

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About the Author: Cecilio's Scribe is the founder of The Legend of Cecilio Guante and a generally pessimistic fan of the Mets, Jets, Knicks and Rangers. A fine NYC-based gentlemen who hones his marketing skills as his primary trade by day. Husband, chef, father of a newborn and after-hours blogger by night. Proud alum of the mighty Big Red of Cornell. University. Hot sauce devotee. Staunch protester of the continued wussifcation of American sports. Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick.

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