A Gift From the Basketball Gods
There is, for me, an out-of-time quality to the recent string of crazy, wonderful Knicks playoff games. I find myself lying awake night after night reviewing jump shots made, fouls committed, and shots blocked, always anxious for what lies ahead. Half a century ago, this routine had a certain age-appropriate insanity to it. Now, though, I’m on the distinctly long side of middle age, yet here I am, fitfully trying to sleep and clearing my calendar for each game night as if for a devotional event.











