I wouldn't really know, to be honest. I celebrated both Christmas and Hanukkah, because my parents loved me. But for some unfortunate others, Christmas Eve is a night where there is excitement in the air, excitement they can feel but that they know will not result in any tangible gains for them personally. This feeling, I imagine, is very similar to what I feel like right now as a Knicks fan.
So in basketball holiday world, I know that Santa isn't coming, and the best I can hope for at this point is that my parents, Donnie and Mike, leave me a little something near the fireplace so that I don't feel left out. "We know all your friends will be getting things today, so we bought you this Amar'e and polished your David Lee doll." I will feel left out, though, because for the next few weeks, all my classmates are going to be talking about how awesome their presents are and how much fun they're having at their house.
Maybe things will turn out differently. Maybe Donnie and Mike (I call them by their first names when I'm mad at them) will sneak out and buy a tree in the middle of the night, and they'll take all the gifts they've been hiding in the closet for weeks and lay them out for my joy and wonderment. Maybe I'll wake up and I'll get to feel like one of the normal kids. You know, one whose parents listen to what he wants and try their best to get it for him.
Oh fuck it. You never stop being Jewish, even if you buy yourself Christmas presents. And you never stop being a Knicks fan, even if you buy yourself a bottle of whiskey and try to forget.
It's past midnight. If you stay up too long, Lebron will know and he won't come.
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