An Open Letter to Miami Heat Fans (from a Long-Suffering Knicks Fan)

If you had told me a year ago that I'd actually be rooting for the Miami Heat in a playoff series, I would have said you were nuttier than a squirrel turd. I'm a long-suffering NY Knicks fan. A jilted by Lebron Knicks fan. Let's go Heat? Never.

But rooting for the Miami Heat is exactly what I was doing during this year's Eastern Conference Finals. Why? How? Well, hating on a team and respecting a team (albeit grudgingly) sometimes goes hand-in-hand. Lebron has proven he's the best player in the NBA; a big-time player who has come up big in big games. The Miami Heat are two-time NBA champions. That may make me want to pull out my tongue but we have to respect that, no?

The Pacers, who defeated my beloved Knicks in last year’s playoffs then broke my heart again by falling to the Heat in seven games in these same Conference Finals, have won nothing. But don't tell them that. They've been running their mouths off and working their asses off all year for that game 7 at home against the Heat. Then, after needing seven games(!) to get by the lowly Hawks and surviving the upstart Wizards in six games, they resumed running their mouths off some more right before their highly anticipated rematch series against the Heat.

There's nothing I hate more than a team that ain't won jack shit running their mouths off against the reigning NBA champions.

Let's go Heat.

Lebron James

So after witnessing the asinine antics of Mr. Stephenson (who's mouth outpaced his game by a few hundred miles) and watching his fellow "not ready for prime time players" get undressed by the Heat in game 6 (so much for that game 7 they worked so hard for), I'd like to express my sentiments on being a Miami Heat fan for a week to their fans in this open letter:

Dear Miami Heat fans,

It has been quite a surreal experience siding with you against the Pacers this past week. Now that they've learned that talking the talk ain't the same as walking the walk, I bid you all adieu. I've found the lights on this side to be a bit too bright for me; the drinks to be watered down a bit too much and the clothing way too overpriced. The overwhelming smell of hair gel and perfume is also rather nauseating.

That said, I will officially resume my hatred of all things Miami Heat and will be rooting hard for the San Antonio Spurs to put an end to the bottle-popping, booty bass, South Beach basketball party that has been going on down here for the past two years. You will not see me again on your side as I pull on my mustard-stained hoodie and slither back to the dark, musty cave that most Knicks fans call home. Despite the haunting echos of seasons past, the stale air and the constant stench of piss, I've become quite comfortable here. Like a NYC subway rat.

Here in my hole, dreams come easily and are shattered quickly; in the split second it takes to miss a finger roll in a playoff game's final seconds. Yet every year brings about new dreams. I still see Carmelo Anthony(?) driving past Lebron James on his way to the basket with 4.5 seconds left in game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals. Down 77-76, he throws up a floater to the basket, it bounces high off the rim, hits the backboard then gently falls through the net. The Knicks win!!!

Carmelo Anthony

Anthony runs the length of the court, throws a triumphant fist in the air and is soon mobbed by Larry Johnson, Latrell Sprewell and Patrick Ewing. Stunned, Lebron and Wade slowly walk off the court, their heads hung low. Chris Bosh falls to the ground, weeping uncontrollably. The NY Knicks go on to sweep the Lakers in the NBA Finals. The following morning, espn reports that Isiah Thomas has been diagnosed with Gonorrhea and will also need hip replacement surgery. That evening, I die in my sleep with Mrs. Perez in my arms. I'm 106 years old. I arrive in heaven and am invited by God to sit at the cool kids table with Abraham, Moses, David, Peter and Paul.

Here in my hole, dreams come easily and are shattered quickly but Knicks fans endure and stay and dream again another year. We may be the object of scorn and mockery but that's what's gonna make the winning all the more special when it comes. And that's why we stay.

Oh, and a good slice of pizza is never hard to find.



Dan Perez Films

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