I was originally going to write a feel good piece about the pleasantly surprising adventures of the 3-point making, Jesus-praising Anthony Tolliver…but that was before Carmelo Anthony exploded like a Midwestern meth lab last night, dropping 62 on the Bobcats and setting the Knicks all-time scoring record. It was a virtuosic display of coldblooded vengeance, as Anthony squared the Knicks with the Bobcats in their season series at 2 games apiece and laid waste to the confidence that Charlotte—and Michael Kidd-Gilchrist in particular—had gained by containing Melo in the three earlier meetings.
I’d like to say that as I watched the game from my living room, I slowly acknowledged the significance of Melo’s performance, and even appreciated his athletic elegance purely on aesthetic grounds, even if my team was on the losing end. But I’d only like to say that, because what actually happened is that I writhed in impotent agony as my team was humiliated by the Knicks, losers of 5 straight, ranked only 2 slots ahead of Charlotte in Basketball- Reference.com’s adjusted margin of victory table, and devoid of three of their top bigs (Amar’e Stoudemire, Andrea Bargnani, and Kenyon Martin). Yet another rankling wrinkle was the fact that Tyson Chandler picked up his second foul not even 7 minutes into the game and had to sit for an extended stretch. In short, this game was there for the ravishing, and I didn’t want a historical performance, I wanted victory!
Alas, now that the calendar has turned and I’ve had time to process the loss, I can perhaps more objectively analyze what happened and…realize that I’m still enraged and mortified and not interested in objectively analyzing shit! Looking at the highlights of Anthony’s shots now makes me feel like an agent of SPECTRE watching a James Bond movie. Sure, the rest of the world may be applauding his derring-do, but I happen to be in the beaten minority and I’m seething with resentment. We had the game plan and the momentum, and this-this…this just wasn’t fair. There was no stopping him. Nothing worked—nothing! And I chose the James Bond analogy for a reason, because throughout his scoring deluge, Carmelo displayed the dispassionate serial killer affect perfectly described by Bill Simmons about LeBron James in game 6 of the 2012 Eastern Conference Finals.