There’s a scene in Martin Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ where Jesus, played with guts and glory by William Defoe, looks down from the cross and for a split second, imagines a life lived as a mortal man. It is a splinter of doubt, one that changes the entire narrative of mankind’s life of sin. It is a gesture Knick fans can relate to, clinching our collective eyes shut until they are sealed with tears, imagining a fandom lived differently.
We are still paying for the sins of yesteryear. The taint of past front offices are stains on all our consciousness.