Madison Square Garden

The Knicks are playing the Heat

Latrell Sprewell makes a flagrant

But it’s a mistake

He didn’t mean it

The ref doesn’t care if he meant it, blows his whistle and right when Sprewell’s about 2

Lose

It

tug his jersey away from him

Get

Out

My

Face

This little kid walks onto the court

Rolls up the half-court line like a ribbon

its thick in his hand

He puts it in his pocket

Then all the cracks on the court, pulls them up like a big spiderman web

The wood has no lines anymore

Someone drops an ice-cream on their Dad’s open-toed sandal

The kid wants to say something to us

He walks in the center

but we’re cheering way too loud