Bibby's World: Written in Stone

In the past year, I have had the pleasure of calling myself an Atlanta Hawk, a Washington Wizard, a Miami Heat, and now a New York Knick. I know that each time I've been traded, I've said that my new home has been the thing I've always wanted, but THIS TIME I mean it.

It really is a concrete jungle.

New York City. Where pizza and tall buildings were invented. Where the movies Home Alone 2: Lost in New York, Requiem for A Dream and Mimic are set. And where John Starks, my hero, became the first player in NBA history to hit 200 three-pointers in one season.

I am aware of the resemblance.

To show my commitment to this team, I am prepared to change my name to Kmike Bibby, as an homage to my current team, The New York Knicks (a team name that I will never understand the spelling of). As Kmike Bibby, I FULLY intend to hit 400 three-pointers in a season, doubling John's record. I expect to hit three of that four hundred in a single playoff game against the Indiana Pacers, where I will headbutt someone from the opposing team (hopefully Reggie Miller, who will be playing his first and only game out of retirement), which will undoubtedly place my name right next to John's in every history book going forward.

Look, the only thing I take more seriously than Bowling is loyalty. But this year has made it really hard for me to be loyal to the cities I play for. Much like the child of a family that's always moving for work, I am a perpetual new kid in the NBA, always moving from city to city and trying my hardest to get settled quickly. It's not easy. The new kid always has to come into his first day of school strong. He has to pants someone or start a fight or eat a sandwich off the cafeteria floor. Think that's hard? Imagine having to do it three times in one year. It might be a nightmare to you, but it's my life.

I'm getting sick of throwing parties to impress my new teammates. I'm getting sick of doing weird stuff to make people like me (I once shaved the left side of my body just to make LeBron laugh, and all I got was a chuckle and a pat on the head). And worst of all, I'm getting sick of paying ridiculous phone bills just to keep in touch with Andray Blatche. I love the guy, but boy does he love talking about his girl problems.

It's hard not to pick up when you know this is who's calling.

I need some consistency in my life. The past six months have been crap, because I thought a lockout meant you had to lock everyone out of your house until Derrick Fisher calls you. So I've been stuck indoors doing puzzles and playing Snood for days on end. I ran out of food two months ago and have been surviving on ice cubes and Cracker Jacks. The last time I pooped was three weeks ago, and even THAT wasn't very good. This has not been a fun year for me.

So to the front office of the Knicks, I'm begging you to let me stay a while. My life has been written in pencil for the last few years; I'd like it to be in stone for once, which is why I had a monument store in Williamsburg carve out my headstone. It reads: "Here lies Kmike Bibby. New York Knickerbocker till the day he died." It'd be a shame if we had to throw it out next month, because you traded me to The Suns, or Turkey, or whoever else desperately wants me right now.

I'm sorry if this all sounds harsh, but I'm trying to look out for my needs for once. It's nice to be in a city that has history; to be a part of a place that has legacies on every block and isn't changing all the time. If I can't have consistency in my life, at least I can be in a place that has some untampered footprints in the sands of time. Time to put my money where my mouth is, close this laptop and explore the city that writes its history in stone. First stop: CBGB.

- Kmike OUT!