Recap: Cavs 96, Knicks 86 (or, keep it cool my babies)

Writers Note: Tuesday night I made braised short ribs for dinner. Unfortunately, I found myself without wine to deglaze the pan before roasting. In an act of flawed ingenuity, I used coffee instead. The ribs came out great, and the earthy coffee perfectly accented the beefy broth. Unfortunately, I basically ate half a pot of concentrated coffee at midnight and didn’t sleep at all. I watched last nights game at work. In my sleepless haze, I accidentally deleted the DVR of the game, and thus didn’t have in-depth game notes. It’s going to be a different type of recap, but maybe it’ll be fun. 

The District of Columbia may be the capital of the country, but New York City is the capital of the world. In a lot of ways I feel fortunate that I’m not from there. Not just because I’d have that ridiculous accent, but because I’d never be able to travel anywhere without thinking the local is beneath me. My first trip to the Big Apple came a decade ago for a pilgrimage to a live taping of Late Night with Conan O’Brien. My insomnia isn’t a new thing, I’ve had it since childhood, and Conan kept me company at night my entire life. At the beginning, Conan was my own personal secret underground band. People didn’t understand why I liked it, and I was often mocked for watching it. As the show found its footing and grew in popularity, I felt a bit of validation for being there from the maiden voyage. Going to that taping of Conan was like a religious journey for me, with Conan’s desk being my own personal Wailing Wall.

As a troika of broke college students, we each brought a bottle of liquor to pre game before the show in an act of fiscal responsibility. We showed up to Rockefeller Center thoroughly inebriated, and we weren’t the only ones. The long line awaiting entry in the swank art deco belly of the building poured out boozy sweat, and it hung in the air. After being seated, I quaked in anticipation. Brian McCann aka The Fed Ex Pope aka Preperation H Raymond came out to pump up the crowd, but I didn’t need it. I couldn’t stop yelling and cheering. A moment later, an usher came over and asked if he could speak with me. I obliged and meet him in the aisle. He then he informed me that I wouldn’t be watching the show. A pair of security guards grabbed me from underneath each arm and dragged me to the exit. As we reached the door, I clung to the frame, trying to pull myself back into the theatre. They overpowered me, and it was over.

I begged and pleaded with the security guard to let me back in. I offered him $200, to let me in with the promise that I wouldn’t say a word. He was untouchable. After accepting that I wouldn’t see the show, my head hung like Charlie Brown after another personal failure and I made my way to the NBC gift shop to buy a Conan mug. It would be the only keepsake from the show I was raised on. No actual memories of a stellar show featuring The Rock, Brittney Snow, and the guy with the worlds largest mustache. I purchased the $12 mug and wandered around the building waiting for my friends. With my tactile skills  and coordination thoroughly dulled, I lost my grip on the mug and it shattered on the granite floor into a hundred midnight blue shards. I stared down at the mug and reflected on my life and tiger tears began falling upon them. There was no balling or sobbing, they just fell. My fault was that I cared too much.

That’s how I felt last night watching the Cavs indifferent effort during the first half against the Knicks. They didn’t care, and I felt more emotionally invested in their work than them. Their defense was lazy, and the offensive rhyme that had been established last week reverted back to out of rhythm iso ball. The Cavs trailed 32-18 after the first, but surrendered just 54 points for the remainder of the game. The ability to turn it on is a game of Russian roulette for good teams, and we are blessed to be rooting for a team capable of it. They have that second gear, and can win games, even when they play poorly. That wasn’t the case during the dark ages.

Rather than do my usual Conan inspired yay, or boo summary of Cavs performances, I’m gonna change things up and correlate a few classic Conan characters to the Cavaliers personalities.

LeBron James – The Maste Self-Sufficient Bear

LeBron James is a contradiction to himself. He wants the world to see him as a selfless do-gooder, but you could write a manifesto on his self-serving acts over the years.  Last night, he threw a temper tantrum on the court, and ripped away the stitching on his sleeves, as if the sleeves were the reason his jumper has been broken for a year. After the game, he said he’d wear the sleeved jerseys again, if the fans like them. I suspect that his lower back trouble is the root to his flat jumper. For the game he scored 23 points on a Kobe-esque 23 shots. In the final frame, he put the contest in his own hands, scoring 11 fourth quarter points, including a thunderous tomahawk jam.

Kevin Love – Pimpbot 2000

Love couldn’t find his shot, but he beat the boards like they owed him money. He tallied his third double-double of the young season, with 11 points and 12 rebounds. Sadly his free throw streak is over. I’m not worried about Love at all. If anything I’m encouraged that his body language has come so far from a year ago.

Tristan Thompson – The Cok Energized Werewolf

Many Cavs fans rained judgement down on TT after the Bulls game on social media, but their judgement couldn’t touch his confidence. It’s kind of amazing that he could miss all of training camp, and is already surpassing his play from last season. Last night, he led the Cavs in plus/minus with +15, and posted 10 points, 13 rebounds, and a block in just 25 minutes. You can throw up the small sample size argument, but it doesn’t change the fact that Thompson is averaging a career best 14.9 rebounds per 36 minutes. His body control, and ability to finish on the pick and roll has never been better. Which brings us to…

Matthew Dellavedova – Minty, The Candy Cane That Briefly Fell on the Ground

Delly is a scruffy dude, not unlike Minty. His podium attire during the playoffs made me assume that he doesn’t know how to tie a tie and that’s part of his appeal. Delly has grown as a player over the summer. He’s no longer just a tasmanian devil on defense, but a well-rounded facilitator on the offensive side of the ball. He currently paces the team in assists, registering 6.6 dimes per game, and delivered seven last night. He’s perfected his driving floater/lob and has a spooky twins sharing thoughts type of synergy with Thompson on the pick and roll.

Mo Williams – The Horn Friendly Manatee

Mo Gotti is the friendliest player on the team, and having him back is like reuniting with an a long lost friend. Often conversation with someone you haven’t seen in awhile feels forced and unnatural. It’s not like that with Mo at all. It’s like he never left. Many have the flawed argument that Mo is one of the primary reasons the Cavs failed to win a title during LeBron’s first tour of Cleveland. It’s not Mo’s fault that he wasn’t qualified be James’ sidekick. It’s never someone’s fault, if they are hired for a job they aren’t qualified for. Could Mo have been a terrific fifth or sixth option? You bet, and that’s what he is now. That being said, the Cavs fell behind when the offense was running through him. Once the roster is back to full-health, Mo will be in his ideal role splitting the backup ball handling duties with Delly.

David Blatt – The Fed Ex Pope

The story of Blatt turning the Cavs into an elite defensive team will be a national plot line in the near future. The Cavs are third in the league with a 92.4 defensive efficiency rating thus far, trailing only the Warriors and Jazz. Blatt has opened up quite a bit too. We’re seeing his candor, and less canned answers.

Knicks Notes

• I’m on the fence with what Phil Jackson’s motive is for running the Knicks. Was he secretly sent by his gal pal Jeanie Buss to destroy the Knicks franchise like a termite from the inside, to eliminate them as a free agency rival to the Lakers? I actually do like their moves during the offseason. Kyle O’Quinn thus far has been the free agency bargain of the summer.
• If Kristaps Porzingis reaches half of his potential, he’s going to be a top 20 player in the league. He’s a 7’3” stretch four, who can protect the rim, and is obscenely fluid in his movements. You can pair him with any big, and that’s insanely valuable.
• If Robin Lopez absorbed his twin brother Brook’s offensive game in the womb, he would be the best center since Shaq.

Shout out to my pal Vito Vincent from the Kibitz for appearing on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. It feels like yesterday I was serving you half and half in a milk saucer on a filthy deli bar, and now you’re a regular on The Late Show. I’m thoroughly a dog person, and have argued with myself for years if I’d rather date a girl with a kid or a cat, but vitovincentthecat.com is the coolest feline I’ve ever come across.