A dozen days will pass before the Knicks go underground, before they leave LeBron James and his playoff-worthy peers with a wink and a tweak of a smoky Sinatra line -- excuse us while we disappear.
Another grim Garden season will be complete, and then a city of 8 million point guards will fast-forward past the Finals and the draft and stop dead on the stroke of midnight, July 1, when Knicks president Donnie Walsh makes what could be the biggest phone call in the history of New York sports.
LeBron, this is Donnie. Will you stay or will you go?
Actually, that first call will go to James' agent, Leon Rose. But no rep is making this decision. Only an athlete with a "Chosen 1" tattoo racing across his comic-book back can decide what, exactly, he was chosen to do.
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To lead the hometown Cavaliers to a title or three? To save the big-market Knicks from themselves?
James should pick Door No. 2. Win, lose or draw in the playoffs, he should honor the magnitude of his game, his persona and his appeal and do a summer deal with the Knicks that would reduce the sale of Babe Ruth to a story the size of a rosin bag.
No, this isn't to say a start-to-finish career in Cleveland amounts to a bad option. The Cavaliers have been good to LeBron. They've built a consistent contender around him, and, of course, they'll pay him the maximum wage to stay, some $30 million more than the Knicks are allowed to bid.
And let's face it: If Cleveland was good enough for Jim Brown, it should be good enough for LeBron James.
Only it's not quite good enough when measured against New York. This isn't about the pizza, or the weather, or the nightlife, or whatever default positions writers often embrace when elevating one market at the expense of another.
This is about legacy, and one too important to be left in the hands of a New York columnist with an agenda.
Yes, I want to cover the world's best player. Yes, I want the Garden to be the Garden again. Yes, I needed to run into Pat Riley at last month's Big East tournament -- the two of us talking about '93 and '94 and '95 -- to remember what the city was like when the Knicks were playing for a title, even if they didn't win one.
So the pitch to LeBron belongs to more prominent voices, to past and present combatants in the New York arena, to five men from other corners of America and one plucked right off the asphalt of Rucker Park.
They all believe the Chosen One would benefit from choosing the Knicks. Only the former baller from Rucker Park, Donnie Walsh, was prohibited under David Stern's law from saying so.
Jesse D. Garrabrant/NBAE/Getty Images
LeBron James will have the basketball world at his feet when July 1 rolls around.
The captain
Back in the day, Willis Reed never saw anything like LeBron James.
"Guys like him hadn't been invented yet," Reed said.
Reed grew up on a farm in Bernice, La. He didn't want to be drafted by the Knicks, if only because that meant he wouldn't be drafted in a first round that included seven picks.
He was angry when taken at No. 8 and stayed angry until his heart set a blind pick on his brain. Reed loved New York, and New York loved him right back.
So he had no choice but to shoot up his injured leg with carbocaine, hobble down the Garden tunnel for Game 7 in 1970 and score those four forever points over Wilt the Stilt.
The adrenaline was far more powerful than the carbocaine, or Chamberlain's Lakers, and Reed wants LeBron to feel the orgasmic rush he felt during that only-in-New York night.
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Willis Reed, a self-proclaimed 'country boy,' embraced the Big Apple during his time with the Knicks.
"I was a country boy in the city; I didn't even know what a point spread was when I arrived," said Reed. "And New York turned out to be the greatest thing that ever happened to me.
"I don't know LeBron well enough to say he'd be comfortable in the city, but I do know this: There's no place like New York. It's just the way it is.
"So if you're asking me as a Knicks fan, I really hope when all is said and done that LeBron's wearing a New York Knickerbocker uniform. That's my wish.
"I mean, do you want to win a championship in New York or Sacramento?"
The captain II
In 1991, Mark Messier didn't need New York half as much as New York needed him. Messier had won five Stanley Cups with the Oilers in his native Edmonton, Alberta, or five more than the Rangers had won since 1940.
Little did Messier know that No. 6 would define him in ways that one through five never could.
Messier guaranteed a Game 6 victory over the Devils in the '94 conference finals, delivered a hat trick and finally grabbed the Stanley Cup on Garden ice before letting loose his MGM lion's roar.
"Because it was New York and we hadn't won in so long," Messier said, "even if you weren't a hockey fan you were tuning in. It became bigger than hockey and bigger than the Stanley Cup."
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He would find it very appealing to be on the New York stage.