Saturday May 29, 1993.
Game three Knicks and Bulls in the Eastern Conference Finals. The Knicks were up two games to none on the mighty back-to-back champs. 2-0! Held court at home and didn’t let them steal shit.
It was just about game time and we all had game faces on our section was mob deep with Boo, PJ, Tiny and every other New York cat in full shit-talk mode to the Chicago heads. And then Hugh rolls up in the spot with a Bernard King jersey tucked into his plaid shorts, house shoes, tube socks pulled up mad high and his ever-present Mr. Nice Guy-shit eater smile.
“Talked with your pops the other day, talking about his Knicks of course. That man loves the Knicks.”
Everyone knew Hugh used to be a cop and all the rules still applied so I answered him loud, dismissive and sarcastic. “Yeah, I know, Buddy.”
He picked up on my vibe and was eager to push my buttons in public so he got real close to my face, “He went to games one and two. Did you know that, smart guy?
His public display of aggression caught me off guard and scattered my thoughts, I lost my wind for a second and answered meekly, “No. I didn’t.”
His shit eater grin got wider, “Took your sister too. How about that? ”
“He took Tanieshia?” All those years I witnessed mediocre basketball with my Dad in the Garden and Tanieshia got the playoffs. My Dad knew he owed her for the Mets debacle.
“Yeah, he said he never heard the Garden so loud. The sea of white from the playoff towels, just some high caliber stuff. I’m surprised he didn’t mention it to you.”
Bob Fennimore a friend of my Father worked for WOR-TV back when the Knicks played on Channel 9. It felt like we were season ticket holders we went to so many games at the Garden.
“Nah, he didn’t mention it.” I tried to sound casual but it hurt to miss the games and it hurt more that I had to hear it from Hugh.
“Maybe he didn’t want you to feel left out and here I am blabbing away. Pretty insensitive of me, huh?
“How am I supposed to answer that, Hugh?”
He waved his long, ugly finger in my face, “Carefully. I remember when you used to go to all the games with your Dad. Now you’re here, with me”
We used to have floor seats behind the basket. Back when they were red. They became lavender seats when Dave Checketts and Pat Riley took over. We used to go when it was Red Holzmen before it was Hubie Brown before it was Rick Patino and the Bomb Squad. Holzmen was my Dad’s dude. Ray Williams, Michael Ray Richardson, Truck Robinson, Sly Williams, Rory Sparrow, Marvin Webster, Bill Cartwright. We were was raised on the Classic Roundball Revised logo with the Garden sound system on full blast ‘We are New York and we know basketball, we will win it all, cause we’re the New York Knicks.’
I was also a full-fledged tongue-out-the-mouth-long shorts-black ankle socks-Air Jordan posters all over the wall-kind of dude too. To be a Knick fan and a Jordan lover is pure self-hate. In case you wanted to know the last time the Knicks won the championship I was one. The Yankees and Giants have taken our team/fan relationship to its zenith. The Knicks have continually delivered heartbreak and disillusionment. But in the ‘92-‘93 season we believed in Pat Riley. They were 60-22, the number one seed and on a collision course with the Bulls who had knocked us out the playoffs three of the last four years. And just like Jordan had to go through Bird’s Celtics and Isaiah’s Pistons we knew all roads went through his Bulls. And of course in game three the Knicks shit the bed. The Bulls toyed with them. Just embarrassed and frustrated the Knicks. Of course John Starks got ejected when he went after Jordan. Like he could really even touch the franchise. The Knicks had TWENTY turnovers for the game! The Bulls scored sixty-two in the first half! Outside of Ewing’s twenty-one points nobody stepped up. It was tough to sit through. Most of the New York section had turned on the Knicks before the end of the third quarter.
“They suck ass, yo!” “What! I told you the Knicks suck, kid. Ewing is a dunking dummy, yo.”
I was quick to bring the glass half full perspective, “It’s all good. We’re still up two games to one. All we need to do is steal one on their floor.”
“You hear this nigga? D, you swear you suiting up next game.” “Word. Talking all that ‘we’ shit. You ain’t on the team, nigga.”
I just knew the Knicks would be fine, “Whatever. That’s fan speak. But y’all no team loyalty having niggas don’t know nothing about that.” But then I got all outside of myself, “All I know is I garuentee they’ll win out, wanna bet because you don’t know what the fuck you talking about anyway.”
In game three the Knicks lost by twenty, lost by ten in game four, lost by three in game five, and by eight in game six. Game five by far was the worst! All six-foot-eleven of Charles Smith’s-I can’t-understand-why-he-didn’t-just-dunk-it-ass got his shot blocked repeatedly and lost about nine pints of blood from the fouls committed on each attempt as the refs swallowed their whistles. It still remains in the top five worst sports Moments of my life.
M
Showing posts with label Nas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nas. Show all posts
Jan 9, 2012
May 11, 2011
One Love Karma ...
There's war going on outside no man's safe/I too youngin' was cut down in the prime of my imagination & violently mentored to succumb to practicality/publicly transferred from the Nebuchadnezzar to Captain the Ezekiel over the event horizon/yep that's us/flying the miracle wheel smoked out at the wheel high in the middle of the sky/we watched them posse up to cut down strength & gouge out eyes like she was Delilah to my Samson/all because a clear look into my Soul'll get you aroused like seven bare naked ladies/I remember vividly how them snakes hissed at me but they were too blind to see I was 45,000 miles away from home/just a Hip Hop buddah monk coloring blues in the hood/sonin’ them young G's like my name was JC Williams/maybe a muthafucka might be safer walking the block shaped like a 'S'/can't rock a vest but could easily be this month's star bullet collector/minus the spotlight in ya vestibule don't grab your wallet or your testicles/fuck who you are when we snatch your manhood & dignity/whether it be PIG or your friendly neighbor hood-ass enemy/because everyday it's 96 degrees in the shade stuck to the wall naming shit like I'm Adam/thank God I still got the pen but ya'll don't hear me though/self-inflicted images of preg Jenny's, seeds in back seats on star trek runs & 40 yard dashes from Jake & the Fat Man/all before I hid out on Pastor Fast Talk for More Bucks Caddy/pulpit or the corner them niggaz men-tal's the same/never forget though corner boys pump project heat/traded my post as ignorant light post ornament for the mirage of my very own puppet regime/now every sentence is a penance asking the Father to forgive both sins/I live it write it down then watch it blow up/you know who I am/you read about my life every night/M
Oct 14, 2010
Tical
What’s good Family?
As I hammered out the first draft of this literary novel inspired by events in my life naive confidence filled my imagination with all sorts of grandeur. Now, as I edit draft number six time is taken to dig deeper into the visions circa ’93-’95 when they flash throw my eyes. I particularly see those Grant Hill Fila sneakers (the kicks Meth has on in the first video below) and my old hood. Which at the time looked extremely similar to every other hood in Rap music videos because LES hadn’t yet been swept by gentrification. Stories fight for more clarity and words mature to fashion my depth of regret for opportunities squandered. So many wasted years wasted on wasted pursuits. I lived like a drifter because I never dropped an anchor or set sail.
Tical was probably the most anticipated album release of my Hip Hop existence. NaS’ Illmatic basically dropped out of nowhere like the best kept secret but Wu Tang Clan and in particular Method Man had been on the come up for almost three years. Meth trooped with me in my headphones, chaperoned by Ron G and Double R mixtapes to the LES and South Bronx then back to Brentwood, LI. His lyrics rang out on street corners, building hallways and project rooftops while we puffed stimuli. I scuffed my Tims on St. Anne's, Clinton, Stanton, Rivington, Sherif's Park and many others long before I walked those same streets as a youth development professional or youth pastor dude. There was a romantic aimlessness attached to that version of me.
I scrap to properly project the pictures in my mind as words on page. So i can share a portion of my complete angst with readers over the misapplication of time in an era long gone. Why did I take up residence in a world I vowed to never become a member of? Why did I trade in my precious road map for a cardboard cut out? As a child I was taught to look towards scripture for inspiration, instructed to study characters that faced similar life obstacles and survived. Like Moses, I killed too soon and found myself banished. At best banishment has produced ambivalence though I do carry the earmarks of solitary interaction with sheep (my kids). You can sense my persona because even if my worldview is large my circle remains small. I’m about the book because the book is about me. Blessings.
M
As I hammered out the first draft of this literary novel inspired by events in my life naive confidence filled my imagination with all sorts of grandeur. Now, as I edit draft number six time is taken to dig deeper into the visions circa ’93-’95 when they flash throw my eyes. I particularly see those Grant Hill Fila sneakers (the kicks Meth has on in the first video below) and my old hood. Which at the time looked extremely similar to every other hood in Rap music videos because LES hadn’t yet been swept by gentrification. Stories fight for more clarity and words mature to fashion my depth of regret for opportunities squandered. So many wasted years wasted on wasted pursuits. I lived like a drifter because I never dropped an anchor or set sail.
Tical was probably the most anticipated album release of my Hip Hop existence. NaS’ Illmatic basically dropped out of nowhere like the best kept secret but Wu Tang Clan and in particular Method Man had been on the come up for almost three years. Meth trooped with me in my headphones, chaperoned by Ron G and Double R mixtapes to the LES and South Bronx then back to Brentwood, LI. His lyrics rang out on street corners, building hallways and project rooftops while we puffed stimuli. I scuffed my Tims on St. Anne's, Clinton, Stanton, Rivington, Sherif's Park and many others long before I walked those same streets as a youth development professional or youth pastor dude. There was a romantic aimlessness attached to that version of me.
I scrap to properly project the pictures in my mind as words on page. So i can share a portion of my complete angst with readers over the misapplication of time in an era long gone. Why did I take up residence in a world I vowed to never become a member of? Why did I trade in my precious road map for a cardboard cut out? As a child I was taught to look towards scripture for inspiration, instructed to study characters that faced similar life obstacles and survived. Like Moses, I killed too soon and found myself banished. At best banishment has produced ambivalence though I do carry the earmarks of solitary interaction with sheep (my kids). You can sense my persona because even if my worldview is large my circle remains small. I’m about the book because the book is about me. Blessings.
M
Aug 28, 2010
Can't Forget About You ...
NOTE: If you're reading this on Facebook please click this (http://marcusjsmalls.blogspot.com/)
What’s good family?
When my eyes opened this morning the front row of my imagination was jam packed with themes, ideas and Hip-Hop music videos. What’s new right?
My personal and professional life has gone through significant upheaval and transition over the past four years. I’d say I’m located in some vague area between pariah and phantom. Nostalgia is a hue I wear well. Whenever I think about perceived contradictions housed within a MC, Pac is the first name on my list. Because of the mountain of information via his music catalog, interview footage and the many college classes dedicated to his work Pac is now viewed through a nostalgic lens. But Pac was yet another young black man cut down in life transition. Pac much like BIG was hardly a finished product. Jay-Z and NaS are in their late thirties and early forties respectively while Pac and BIG are remembered on murals and RIP t-shirts.
From the moment I heard NaS’ flow on Main Source’s “Live at the BBQ” joint I’ve been an unabashed (minus Nastradamus) fan and supporter. The Illmatic release date was April 19, 1994. Now, I can’t call it. But I do know after I ripped that wrapper off the cassette tape (yes, I said cassette tape) it was played in every Sony Walkman or cassette deck I could bogart. The ability to simply stay alive has granted Jay and NaS the opportunity to mature in reality and perception. My life path has provided the same opportunities for lane merges and roadway transitions. From roof top blunt smoker into a church leader and back again. But this time I have slightly more than a pot to piss in and a family in my caravan to the promise land.
We’re in the double video bonus round today so we’ll focus on NaS’ career growth from crowned prince of the projects to the rebel voice of a generation. As you watch the second video “Ya’ll My Niggaz” visualize my words on page to be the kid with the headphones on in full jam mode. Like him my message is destined to ring in the streets.
M
What’s good family?
When my eyes opened this morning the front row of my imagination was jam packed with themes, ideas and Hip-Hop music videos. What’s new right?
My personal and professional life has gone through significant upheaval and transition over the past four years. I’d say I’m located in some vague area between pariah and phantom. Nostalgia is a hue I wear well. Whenever I think about perceived contradictions housed within a MC, Pac is the first name on my list. Because of the mountain of information via his music catalog, interview footage and the many college classes dedicated to his work Pac is now viewed through a nostalgic lens. But Pac was yet another young black man cut down in life transition. Pac much like BIG was hardly a finished product. Jay-Z and NaS are in their late thirties and early forties respectively while Pac and BIG are remembered on murals and RIP t-shirts.
From the moment I heard NaS’ flow on Main Source’s “Live at the BBQ” joint I’ve been an unabashed (minus Nastradamus) fan and supporter. The Illmatic release date was April 19, 1994. Now, I can’t call it. But I do know after I ripped that wrapper off the cassette tape (yes, I said cassette tape) it was played in every Sony Walkman or cassette deck I could bogart. The ability to simply stay alive has granted Jay and NaS the opportunity to mature in reality and perception. My life path has provided the same opportunities for lane merges and roadway transitions. From roof top blunt smoker into a church leader and back again. But this time I have slightly more than a pot to piss in and a family in my caravan to the promise land.
We’re in the double video bonus round today so we’ll focus on NaS’ career growth from crowned prince of the projects to the rebel voice of a generation. As you watch the second video “Ya’ll My Niggaz” visualize my words on page to be the kid with the headphones on in full jam mode. Like him my message is destined to ring in the streets.
M
Jun 3, 2010
Ill+matic ...
Hello family,
I'm back again. I won't bother us with hollow apologies because i have a legitimate excuse for my absence. I've put the pen to paper and finished the book. The Divine Sinner Chronicles first draft is complete! It's a novel inspired by true event in my life from childhood up to 1994. I took the Memorial Day weekend to celebrate with most of my family back in the hometown of Norwalk. It's been a crazy ride writing this book.
I've pledge to post daily (pray my strength in the Lord) to update the world at large about the process and journey of taking this book from my laptop to bookshelves across the globe. Dreaming big with flat pockets.
I've already finished the paper edit of the first three chapters, so I'm liking my pace right now. I'm also sending out the query letter. The query letter is the bane of my existence. I've worked it off and on for the past three years now ... it drives me crazy. I've purchased my copy of 2010 Writer's Market a while ago and got advice from my writer friends but I still can't say I feel I've nailed it. I know they'll like the book if they would only read it but the query is the bridge. It's like the first song on the demo tape. You're still alive if they want to hear the next joint. I know it's a numbers game so I'll remain persistent in sending five query letters a day in due diligence.
Now the reason Nas & Damian Marley are the lead on this post is because their new project. If you know me personally you know Nas is in my top 3 of artist in any genre of music. Illmatic is such an important album in my life. 1994 was an important time in my life, a crossroads and Illmatic was the soundtrack in my ears. '94 gave me a few classics ... we'll the stop the train here. I don't wanna give it all away in one day. Small steps, baby steps ...
Enjoy this piece about the Distant Relatives project.
420 is everyday ...
M
I'm back again. I won't bother us with hollow apologies because i have a legitimate excuse for my absence. I've put the pen to paper and finished the book. The Divine Sinner Chronicles first draft is complete! It's a novel inspired by true event in my life from childhood up to 1994. I took the Memorial Day weekend to celebrate with most of my family back in the hometown of Norwalk. It's been a crazy ride writing this book.
I've pledge to post daily (pray my strength in the Lord) to update the world at large about the process and journey of taking this book from my laptop to bookshelves across the globe. Dreaming big with flat pockets.
I've already finished the paper edit of the first three chapters, so I'm liking my pace right now. I'm also sending out the query letter. The query letter is the bane of my existence. I've worked it off and on for the past three years now ... it drives me crazy. I've purchased my copy of 2010 Writer's Market a while ago and got advice from my writer friends but I still can't say I feel I've nailed it. I know they'll like the book if they would only read it but the query is the bridge. It's like the first song on the demo tape. You're still alive if they want to hear the next joint. I know it's a numbers game so I'll remain persistent in sending five query letters a day in due diligence.
Now the reason Nas & Damian Marley are the lead on this post is because their new project. If you know me personally you know Nas is in my top 3 of artist in any genre of music. Illmatic is such an important album in my life. 1994 was an important time in my life, a crossroads and Illmatic was the soundtrack in my ears. '94 gave me a few classics ... we'll the stop the train here. I don't wanna give it all away in one day. Small steps, baby steps ...
Enjoy this piece about the Distant Relatives project.
420 is everyday ...
M
Jan 19, 2010
MySpace - Exhibit A (Transformations) by Jay Electronica
what's good fam?
Yo, if you don't know you need some of this Jay Electronica in your life ...
please have a listen and be on the look out for that CD ... good music to guide us through this Great Recession ... check your cassette deck/hip hop has not left yet ...
Blessings,
M
MySpace - Exhibit A (Transformations) by Jay Electronica
Posted using ShareThis
Yo, if you don't know you need some of this Jay Electronica in your life ...
please have a listen and be on the look out for that CD ... good music to guide us through this Great Recession ... check your cassette deck/hip hop has not left yet ...
Blessings,
M
MySpace - Exhibit A (Transformations) by Jay Electronica
Posted using ShareThis
Jan 6, 2010
Aug 25, 2009
It’s just a hobby that I picked up in the lobby …
See these fans can’t resist the rush/they Wu-Tang for life/scared for life they forget the cuts …
Method Man - House of Flying Daggers – Cuban Linx 2
Wu-Tang Clan is moving back onto the Hip Hop landscape again and sometimes it seems like it just yesterday when they were the dominant sound by the summer of ‘95. The RZA’s distinct Shaw Brothers, dark production provided a canvas for each member’s unique style. There was a time when every hood in the tri state area and beyond was booming with one of the many Wu offerings. As almost every group member also signed solo deals with other labels. This business model is followed by almost every modern day rapper crew, one of the many testaments to the Wu’s forever imprint on the culture. Before Culture control belonged to Death Row, Bad Boy, The Roc, or Young Money there was Wu Tang. They have trail blazed in the form of MC’s having their own clothing line, the Wallabee era, music production for the MC fan, (you will routinely get a minute’s worth of beat at the end of songs so you can kick your own shit.) Web sites, video games, and my two favorite contributions slanguistics and the idea of alias ’ each having his own mythology and influences. To only name a few.
Cuban Linx is perhaps the most influential of all Wu-Tang solo projects, Rae was really the first to kick it with that deep cinematic imagination. His creation of a narrative album format revolving around cocaine trafficking, criminal activity, and a rise through the ranks of the illegal industry set the template for Criminology rap. You can see the much-argued imprint on albums from Jigga Reasonable Doubt, Biggie, Life After Death, and Nas It Was Written. Rea was our new G Rap
During the summer I was talking with my dude Julien about Cuban Linx 2 and some of the young bucks were chilling with us. One of them said who is Wu Tang again? That’s Method Man and that other dude right?
Like these cats run around spitting they little lyrics and talking about who is the greatest MC alive and they didn’t know Wu Tang! I almost blacked out on homeboy but instead took the opportunity to school them all on how Wu changed the game when they kicked in the door back in ’93 … and that’s when homeboy was like Marc, I was born in 1995, yo.
RIP ODB … Wu Tang FOREVER!
Method Man - House of Flying Daggers – Cuban Linx 2
Wu-Tang Clan is moving back onto the Hip Hop landscape again and sometimes it seems like it just yesterday when they were the dominant sound by the summer of ‘95. The RZA’s distinct Shaw Brothers, dark production provided a canvas for each member’s unique style. There was a time when every hood in the tri state area and beyond was booming with one of the many Wu offerings. As almost every group member also signed solo deals with other labels. This business model is followed by almost every modern day rapper crew, one of the many testaments to the Wu’s forever imprint on the culture. Before Culture control belonged to Death Row, Bad Boy, The Roc, or Young Money there was Wu Tang. They have trail blazed in the form of MC’s having their own clothing line, the Wallabee era, music production for the MC fan, (you will routinely get a minute’s worth of beat at the end of songs so you can kick your own shit.) Web sites, video games, and my two favorite contributions slanguistics and the idea of alias ’ each having his own mythology and influences. To only name a few.
Cuban Linx is perhaps the most influential of all Wu-Tang solo projects, Rae was really the first to kick it with that deep cinematic imagination. His creation of a narrative album format revolving around cocaine trafficking, criminal activity, and a rise through the ranks of the illegal industry set the template for Criminology rap. You can see the much-argued imprint on albums from Jigga Reasonable Doubt, Biggie, Life After Death, and Nas It Was Written. Rea was our new G Rap
During the summer I was talking with my dude Julien about Cuban Linx 2 and some of the young bucks were chilling with us. One of them said who is Wu Tang again? That’s Method Man and that other dude right?
Like these cats run around spitting they little lyrics and talking about who is the greatest MC alive and they didn’t know Wu Tang! I almost blacked out on homeboy but instead took the opportunity to school them all on how Wu changed the game when they kicked in the door back in ’93 … and that’s when homeboy was like Marc, I was born in 1995, yo.
RIP ODB … Wu Tang FOREVER!
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