Mike Woodson is Mr. Potato Head

Never quite thought I’d say this, but I actually empathize with Mike Woodson. For obvious reasons, sure – his head is literally a starchy plant – but also for having to deal with the belligerently inept front office that’s been heading our disastrous New York Knicks for what seems like several miserable lifetimes.

I can assure you not even the Zen Master himself can save this crumbling franchise that once featured the beloved, tree-trunk likes of Charles Oakley, Patrick Ewing and Earl the Pearl Monroe. Sure we’ve still got super-suit Walt Clyde Frazier turning the fashion clock back 50 years, but it’s all wasted on yet another “within ten in the third quarter-down by 24 in the fourth” loss. Like clockwork, they’ll blow it.

The entire Big Apple ripped Woodson last year, if you remember, repeatedly bashing him for losing a grip on the team and all-around favoring and continuing to play the son he never had, J.R. Smith. It was an empty year, without even a first-round pick in the 2014 NBA Draft to get excited about. For fans of shit teams like us, mock drafts are the only thing keeping us from the ledge. And for the past 15 years, the Knicks have essentially ripped the finally-we-have-a-young-guy possibility from us. It’s torn the team to shreds emotionally, physically and epically.

How smart do you have to be to see that the Oklahoma City Thunder, Portland Trail Blazers and Golden State Warriors do it right? Through the draft and chemistry; keeping players together in a reliable system, where they can grow together like chia pets in August. Well, I guess paying our muchacho Carmelo Anthony $129 million to chuck 29-foot, triple-covered threes, play occasional defense and become a weekly sports meme is worth sacrificing any kind of supporting cast. Well done, gents, keep up the good work.


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