2012's Best: Linsanity

Via The Knicks Wall

By Joe Schackman

The year that Jeremy Lin captivated a nation and brought one lapsed Knicks fan back into the fold. Part of a short series on the best moments of 2012.

2012 A.D. taught me one important lesson. I’m a shitty Knicks fan.

During the most recent dark age of the storied New York franchise, I was nowhere to be found. Isiah Thomas was busy stuffing his roster with the likes of Stephon Marbury, Steve Francis and Zach Randolph, and I was busy doing... well... other things. The Knicks were lifeless, rudderless and couldn’t get out of their own way. I was in no mood to go along for that ride. Sorry, New York, but things were complicated. It was me, not you.

Yet lo and behold, the orange and blue eventually found their way back into my life. First Amar’e came to town, and that piqued my interest. Then the excitement grew when Melo arrived home. But the one who finally convinced me to give it another go was not one of the Knicks’ superstars. It was a slightly awkward, couch-dwelling kid named Jeremy Lin.

At least half the adjectives in the English language have been slapped onto Linsanity, but none have stuck. It’s still a hard concept to express in words. I mean, really think about what happened. A 23-year-old Asian American, Ivy League grad, who even the biggest basketball diehards had never heard of, suddenly finds himself at the epicenter of the sports world. Look at his resume and you’d think he had a better chance of owning an NBA team than running its offense. And yet here he was.

And there I was, in at the ground level, having casually turned on the February Knicks-Nets game that would put Lin on the map. He carried the team, scoring 25 en route to a win. Then in his first professional start he scored 28 against the Jazz. He was must-see TV, and I was giving a crap again. Rushing home to watch games. Yelling about how Lin defied all of sports’ truisms. He was a throwback to the time when some anonymous young kid could stumble off the farm with a 95-mile-per-hour fastball and a ticket to the Majors. Lin was the kind of out-of-nowhere star that you simply don’t see anymore, and because of that, I cared whether the Knicks won or lost for the first time in a long time.

The hyperbole surrounding Lin’s play was intense, of course. Everyone knew that what he was doing was unsustainable. But at the same time, his success wasn’t all smoke and mirrors. You don’t fall ass backwards into 38 points against Kobe and the Lakers. You don’t hit a game-winning, buzzer-beating shot against the Raptors. Not if you don’t have some serious chops. Lin played the best ball of his life, yes, but he did it long enough to prove he belonged.

Then came the injury, the early playoff exit and then the off-season move to the Rockets. I was crushed. I’d grown attached to the Lin-led Knicks, and it didn’t matter what it took to keep that going. I could justify the cap hits and wish away Jim Dolan’s money like it was nothing. The men in charge saw it differently. Soon Lin was packing his bags.

As 2012 turned to 2013, the Knicks showed that they are better than ever. Their play is still infectious, but without Lin it hasn’t been the same for me. Maybe it never will. Maybe I’ll always look back at 2012 as the year that set the bar too high, that haunts my fandom.

Or maybe I’ll just stop caring about the Knicks again. It worked the first time.

Joe Schackman is an editor and co-founder of Began in '96.