The Knicks are looking like the worst versions of themselves at exactly the wrong time. Sunday afternoon’s 102-95 loss to the Pacers at Madison Square Garden was a reminder of just how hard it’s going to be for this team, particularly in its recent games’ incarnation, to even win a game in this series let alone advance to an expected match up with the Miami Heat (who are still going to destroy anyone in their path).
What’s disturbing is not so much Melo and J.R. Smith’s terrible shooting. Or the foul trouble. Or the lackluster play from Tyson Chandler and a minimally effective bench. No, the worry is in the personality of this team coming through. One of mental weakness. Poor basketball IQ. Overall fragility. The whining. The constantly looking for whistles. The poor decisions and sloppy play.
It’s all very disheartening and bodes poorly for the Knickerbockers prospects. Sure, a hot shooting night from Smith and Melo can cure all ills – temporarily. Some may argue that “hey, it’s what got them there.” And, yes, I guess that’s at least partially true. But this is playoff time. This is about team play. You’re seeing it in teams like the Bulls, Indiana and even the Thunder despite a heavier reliance, of course, on KD.
It’s vanishing on this Knicks team faster than Kaiser Soze. Someone needs to realize that the ball needs to be in Raymond Felton’s hands the majority of the time. As he goes, so does this team. Overall, the Knicks need to grow up. It’s the Postseason, and they look mentally weak. That’s not going to cut it. Indiana will be happy to illustrate that point. Should there not be dramatic change from Woody and crew, they will do just that — and in quick order.
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.