Review: Winning Time: Reggie Miller Vs. The New York Knicks

Fuck it (always wanted to start of a piece like that). To my own personal detriment, I love writing about Reggie Miller. In fact, my journalism career kinda started with a post about Reggie Miller (plus, Good Will Hunting and Dante Hall) in a post that can no longer be found on the Interwebs, and almost prematurely ended with me writing about Reggie Miller. My Reggie man crush got me a first-round exit from a FOX Sports National sportswriting contest, despite being hailed as one of the three (out of 16) favorites coming into the contest. Sigh. My Reggie love bored and disgusted people more than my writing impressed them.

In retrospect, I was stupid. I should have written a satirical piece about Mike Tyson’s future as a public speaker. Or a piece clowning Shaq’s acting prowess. Or one about Joey Crawford, the Bo Jackson from my hometown of Springfield, MO who never made it due to family and personal problems. I had the choice to write about any athlete who ever lived with looser perimeters than Jesse James’ mistress Michelle Bombshell. I chose Reggie. I have lots of heroes. Bill Murray. Bob Kane. Derrick Thomas. Eddie Vedder. Jay-Z. Orson Welles. Quentin Tarantino. But Reggie Miller is my idol.

If I was going to lose, I was going to lose with Reggie. Back in the 90s (not to mention the late 80s, and early 2000s), the Pacers were the same way. He wanted the ball. His teammates wanted him to have the ball. The state of Indiana wanted him to have the ball. His fans, myself definitely included, wanted him to have the ball. When the game’s final seconds were ticking down in super slow motion, everybody wanted him to have the ball in his hands. Everybody except the New York Knicks and their die-hard (or make you die hard if you beat their team) fans.

That’s what Winning Time: Reggie Miller Vs. The New York Knicks was all about.

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