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Golub: LeBron’s ghosts

This column reflects the opinion of the writer and does not in any way reflect the views of The Stanford Daily. I selectively block out most of what LeBron says. I’m not a big fan of his, to say the least. Pretty much everything he does tends to piss me off. But he said something…

Golub: What it means to be a Knicks fan

I love the Knicks. I always have. I remember running to the living room after dinner on Friday nights to watch them play. They were led by a perennially underrated David Lee and JCrossover, the smooth, slick Jamal Crawford. I jumped whenever our spunky, streaky, 5’9” spark Nate Robinson entered the game. Not yet knowing what it feels like to have a bona fide star, those guys were my heroes. Those teams never won many games – how could they when guys like Malik Rose and Jerome James got minutes – but they nurtured my fandom into a piece of my identity. Back then, I was too innocent to get bogged down by the losing. With no expectations, I celebrated every win for the gift it was.