Oh, dear Knicks, you fought, you tried,
Yet once more, your fans are mystified.
For you score and you hustle and bring all your might,
But somehow you never quite get it right.
Take tonight’s game, where things seemed fair,
With Brunson's 33, he gave quite a flair.
And OG chipped in with a solid 25,
Yet the Knicks’ defense appeared barely alive.
Enter the Pacers, who took to the floor,
With Mathurin’s 38, and Haliburton’s 35 more.
Their backcourt racked up a cool seventy-three—
Did the Knicks think this was a game of three-on-three?
Karl-Anthony Towns had his thirty-point night,
But defense on Mathurin? Not quite tight.
And the Celtics fans giggled, with smug self-regard,
Knowing the Knicks remain forever marred.
For every year is “next year,” they say, with a sigh,
A promise of glory that always goes dry.
But oh, to be a Knicks fan, forever resilient,
Like rooting for rain in a season that’s brilliant.
So here's to the Knicks, who gave it a shot,
Who kept the score close but still missed the plot.
To the Pacers who danced past defense so murky—
Maybe next year, dear Knicks, we’ll finally get perky.