The Outlet 2.02: From Miami, with Punch-Drunk Love

As advertised in our Prognosti-ranking series, we’re bringing our formerly retired series of daily vignettes — titled “The Outlet” — back for the playoffs. “Don’t call it a comeback.” Though, you can call it series 2, as we are in the title. Every day, we’ll try to share two or three short vignettes from our collective of writers ruminating on the previous day’s (or weekend’s) events. In this case, the previous few days. Should be a fun time. Today’s Outlet covers primarily Amare Stoudemire's hand injury, and includes the following two pieces.

• "All is Well, All is Good." by Adam Koscielak.
• "Wow, no it's not. I Punched a Cactus Once." by Aaron McGuire.

A distinctly punch-drunk theme, today. Continue at your own risk. If you're made of glass, that is. Which does beg the question: how are we going to save Amare... from himself? (That was a Bad Joke. I should feel Bad. And I do.)

 • • •

All is Well, All is Good

Adam Koscielak 

The reports came in last night. “After their crushing game 2 defeat, Amar’e punched a fire extinguisher” ...  “Amar’e bleeding all over the place, because he punched straight through the glass casing” ... “Amar’e surrounded by security and paramedics, getting stitches now."  In response, the non-reporters tweeted a collective “What?”

And somehow, it just fits. It just fits so effing perfectly.

Of all the losing teams out here, the Knicks, a team that honestly has no business even pretending they can compete with the Heat in a seven game series (and I say this as an optimistically joyous believer in the chaos theory of sports miracles) are the ones frustrated to the point of PUNCHING A GLASS CASING. Perhaps this is the epitome of the Knicks season somehow. The high point, somehow. It’s really all hindsight, ifs and buts, and pure insanity.

From Linsanity to Pringleburnia, the Knickerbockers have been going from great to bad, intense to lazy, all while the New York Media Big Brothers are staring and passing judgements. And as STAT is surrounded by paramedics you can’t help to think that it fits. Delusional fans will have an(other) excuse and a scapegoat, the media will have the producer of the casing and the details of the lawsuit, bloggers will have another meme, all will be well in the world, and the evil Heat empire will bask in another power forward attempting to physically harm an inanimate object because of their dominance.

All is well.

All is well...

• • •

Wow, no it's not. I Punched a Cactus Once.

Aaron McGuire

I disagree completely, Adam. All is not well. Though perhaps that's just my background obscuring my vision. You see, dear readers, I am a man that has made mistakes in my life. And I may understand more than just about anyone what Amare is feeling right now. This is because -- when I was 13 years old -- I punched a cactus in a bout of misguided fury at a less-than-stellar Biology test. I'd studied and studied, and done my best. Didn't matter. I came short of passing, by just a few points. In the interests of helping our readers understand how the flying fuck a person could make such a stupid decision (as well as solidarity for Amare Stoudemire), I have produced from memory a retro-liveblog of my own incredible punching exploits. Proceed with caution.

The date: April 22nd, 2004. The place: Phoenix, Arizona.

12:32 -- School is out, and we got out quite early that day. I am walking home with my friend Jean. We are discussing my failure to secure a passing grade on my latest Biology test. My parents had been pushing me to finish the semester strong. I at that point had a C in Biology and a few Bs as a freshman. The weight of failed expectations bubbled up. I felt impotent dissatisfaction in my throat.

12:35 -- "Damnit, Jean, I'm angry enough I could punch someone." Jean looks around. He is the only person present. After declaring that he was quote-unquote "not it" he suggested I find something of the non-human type to punch. I like animals, so the passing pigeon was a no-go. As a joke, he points out the cactus right ahead that we pass on our way home every day. Hmm...

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