On the last episode of The Four Point Play, we toiled with the grim realities of the fading Knicks empire, and a growing fiefdom in our beloved hamlet, the Breuckelen Nets. Chief among our concerns? Owner disinterest superseding fan anxiety.
New York basketball fans are Sisyphus, forever tantalized by pricey teams who soften short of climax. But lately, we've had our intelligence assaulted by the eccentric, erratic strokes of a billionaire. Though the Nets are the best new show in town, they're none too immune from the whims of a Luchini lord.
Their owner has a rumor trail that leads to him being at best a Russian Larry Flynt and at worst, Moscow's Bill Clinton. His résumé has a Body Count and an oil spill on it. And that's just the first page.
And not that I'm a fan of rap or anything... BECAUSE I ABSOLUTELY AM but has Jay-Z (new nose face of the Nets) applied his effort to rhyming even 30% of the time on his climb to Forbes list fame?
Is 30% a generous estimate at this point?
Frankly, we have right to suspect he'll bring that imperious air into Barclay's Center and thus create another vanity team. Image over wins.
With that in mind, we sent him an earnest dispatch, listing our qualms.
What follows is Mr. Carter's reply:
Dear Breez,
The Four Point Play? honestly, clever name. congrats on your ambition, kid. clearly you're gonna need it.
also, you're writing letters? I got Obama on the text, baby. holla at me. you don't know if I'm talkin' Barack or Michelle. it's bananas.
what they gon DO with me? my one of a kind self. HOV!
but for real. when I said "the Nets could go 0 for 82" et al, I wasn't being literal. you know what I mean, it's not like I'm looking at YOU like it's gravy for YOU.
it's more like this boat I got floating everybody: THIS SHIT GRAVY.
I hear the people talkin', I assure you. but I don't rap for you. or the people. I rap to hear myself rapping to you, and for the satisfaction of laughing when you still don't get it. take a second to wrap your mind around that.
it's cool; I'll wait.
I'm so far ahead of my time. Marcy Projects...I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Trader Joe. you already know what it's about. organic produce in the project hallway. high-rise condos across from police towers.
mattafact I did my last Rolling Stone interview in a pissy elevator with two heroin addicts holding a iPhone. I had to hustle, my back to the wall, ashy knuckles. nawmean? (although -- I can't front -- Carol's Daughter has really changed my approach to skin care. no more dark spots, ya'heard.)
to keep it 100, I can't show you the bigger picture if you ain't tryna see it lil homey. sure, if a No-Win-82-Loss season doesn't spell "success" to you, I'm already playing the underdog. but if you see the aspirational value in hundreds of low-wage arena jobs, absurd raises in property tax and unimaginable traffic, then, maybe, we can have a civil discussion on the subject.
otherwise, save up for some season tickets and stop crying to me about it.
sincerely,
Hova The God aka Young Forbes List 4Ever
The Four Point Play announces its official and complete defection from the ranks of Knick fans. This journal, a running tract for the basketball-minded, must be purged of its filthy ties to the Dolan monarchy. In "common sense" terms, we value the common as much as the sense. For too long, in the oily undercarriage of Madison Square Garden, we dressed fatal wounds, and sutured heartbreak. No more pandering to the whims of an increasingly moneyed class of carpetbaggers, sports dilettantes, ball hobbyists, closet polo players. The Garden left "common" behind decades ago, while its lore grew the warts of excess: 12 dollar beers, overfed, bloated ballers, and lawsuits a-plenty.
James Dolan owns the dubious honor of building an entertainment vehicle that is as valuable in a wretched wrecked state as it is in near-victory.
Swept out of the playoffs at Boston? It's cool.
What's his name scored 47.
Traded one of the league's most sensational guards for a fat also-ran?
Don't worry, we're saving money for some unforeseen circumstance, like building that championship team you always wanted.
Promise.
But where to plant the flag now?
Now I like to wear nice things just like you. But I'm from Brooklyn. And certain sh*t you just don't do. Like:
- Leaving your lifelong allegiance to the orange and blue to rot on Seventh Avenue.
- Calling yourself a Nets fan. Gross.
- Blaming Patrick Ewing for anything ill-fated.
We didn't make these Gods; we only worship them.
However faithless his supporters, there is one self-appointed divinity who has emerged from the fiery pits of churning commerce. There is one rapper whose name has become synonymous with grandeur, opulence and style. There is one minority owner of an NBA team whose very utterance spikes property value and drops draws. He has reformed the franchise by association and locale. So I decided to contact him with a letter, a personal message from a spent fan and Brooklynite, asking him why I might jump wagons to ally with his sloganeers. Here is the e-mail exchange we had.
Dear (Young) Hov,
Long-time listener, first time caller.
Anyway, I love what you've done with the place. That rusty finish on the Barclay's Center? Like warm socks on a rainy night. You smoother than Deron Williams finger waves. But I don't know yet if that's a reason to root for your team. Granted, the Knicks with Amar'e and Carmelo are costume jewelry, the thin alloy necklace no self-respecting sports fan could ever mistake for a dookie chain.
A self-hating sports fan on the other hand...
But I digress. My main issue with rooting for the Nets is your claim that "the Nets could go 0 for 82, and I'd look at you like this shit GRAVY."
Would you look at me like it's all butter-and-flour-turkey-fat if the Nets lost all their games? Word?
This, to me, suggests that you're not really considering the Brooklyn fans who spent years suffering at the hands of another uncaring tyrant who ran the only New York basketball team.
We can't trade one fatcat for another, ya know? Just sayin.
Also, what role will Kanye West play in the development of this new team? He's lately suggested that he might have some say in the contracts of Kris Humphries and anyone else his girlfriend may or may not have fake-married.
I understand Kanye is no lay-person, but in terms of basketball, I think his imprudence might really hurt the roster. Cause, like, what if they break up and she starts dating, like, Marshon Brooks or someone equally promising and young?
(Marshon, if you're reading this, stay far away from anyone with two phones claiming to be "Kim's friend".)
This fan life thing can be pretty exhausting and, aside from all the other political and social reasons the Nets in Brooklyn is an absolute mindfuck, we just need a few assurances. In other words, talk to us like we're Memphis Bleek or Blue Ivy or one of your many dependents. This is a faith declaration, which sometimes requires more than love.
I hope this missive finds you cradled in the comforts of an extinct animal's fur, sipping chamomile-infused lemon seltzer. Or some such.
Kindly,
DrewBreez
Check back with the The Four Point Play later this week for Jigga's heartfelt reply
