After 13 straight postseason wins, with the greatest point differential in NBA history, the Knicks finally lost a basketball game.
The San Antonio Spurs flew into New York and beat the Knicks 115-111, to win Game 3 of the NBA Finals and stay alive in the series. They are now down 2-1 with a shot to tie things up before flying back to big back Texas for Game 5.
In hindsight, the loss was inevitable when the entire city catered to the man who forced their governor to grovel for ventilators during a global pandemic that killed millions of people worldwide.
Following the announcement of Trump’s attendance, fans were told they would need to show up at least two hours early to undergo TSA-style security screenings. No bags of any kind will be allowed in the building. Cars in the area are being towed en masse. Watch parties were relocated. The Secret Service set up a multi-block no-access perimeter around MSG and Penn Station, smack in the middle of one of the busiest corporate and commuting centers in the nation.
All of Midtown must bend to the whims of Zsa-Zsa Korda, vacating congested, busy city blocks to protect the most assassination-worthy president ever.
Vibes flipped upside down because Knicks owner James Dolan wants everyone to know he’s friends with the president.
Donald Trump was shown on the ESPN on ABC broadcast of Game 3 of the NBA Finals during the national anthem, and he was booed loudly by the crowd at MSG.pic.twitter.com/GgH1p6RuzM
— Awful Announcing (@awfulannouncing) June 9, 2026
I needed this. I deserved this.
Here I was, optimistic, for the New York Knicks, a team owned by a guy who follows trans women in the bathrooms.
The Knicks have been a laughing stock my entire life and I was running around like King Kong didn’t have shit on me.
Donald Trump showing up to Madison Square Garden, stinking up the suite with the stench of tanning spray and the wet diaper he sits in, stewing, was a necessary evil.
I convinced myself the Knicks would sweep the San Antonio Spurs. I thought they’d be going into Game 4 with a 3-0 lead. I was planning my outfit for the championship parade.
I was acting different—making eye contact with cashiers, getting out of bed at the first alarm, yo, I washed my floors. This Knicks sweep had me feeling good, silly me.
I am a weak, mortal nothing. I needed this reality check.
Donald Trump had to bring his atrocious, noxious, pedo energy to MSG—tainting the locker room, reverting the Knicks to their worst selves—Jalen Brunson ballhogging, KAT quiet on defense/ignored on offense, Mikal Bridges unable to simply sustain a live dribble—the power of Trump’s horrid, putrid presence radioactive, seeping into the pores of anyone in the building.
Thank you, obese Nicolae Ceaușescu, for napping through the game and sucking the life force out of the Knicks like they were Bubba on Epstein’s Island.
Now that we’ve returned to the harsh reality of life, let’s go get Game 4.
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