The Captain Moves On

RIP Willis Reed, 80, “The Captain,” whose leadership was vital to the success of the great Knicks teams of the late ‘60’s and early ‘70’s. Born in Louisiana, he had a great run at Grambling, leading the Tigers to an NAIA title and three Conference championships. The Knicks selected him with the first pick of the second round of the 1964 draft. He was Rookie of the Year in 1965. He was MVP of the NBA Finals in ’70 and ’73, the only titles the franchise has won. He was league MVP in 1970. A seven-time all-star, he was named to the 50th and 75th NBA anniversary teams. New York fans remember the magic moment that occurred before Game Seven of the ’70 finals. Reed had suffered a torn thigh muscle that kept him out of Game Six. He surprised everyone by taking the floor for warmups, which incited rousing applause, one of the most memorable Big Apple sports moments ever. He made his first two field goals, his only points of the game. Overall, he averaged nearly 19 points and 13 rebounds per game. His playing career ended in ‘74. He was not successful as a coach at the college or pro level, but did well as GM of the Nets, making moves that turned them into a contender. Married twice, he was a father of two. Awesome, Sir. Thank you.

Excerpt from a nypost.com editorial: “… 149,000 federal civilian workers owed back taxes in 2021 totaling $1.5 billion. Some 42,000 ‘didn’t even file tax returns for multiple years.’” Anyone surprised? Is the sense of entitlement greater anywhere than inside government offices?

I have zero interest in the World Baseball Classic but am gladdened by this newsmax.com headline: “Cuban Player Defects After World Baseball Classic.”

This sounds promising, headline from NM: “Cancer Treatment Developed in 30 Days With AI.” It’s for the most common form of liver cancer.

Stop, thief! A picnic was crashed in what is believed to be somewhere in Australia. Photos from Google Images:

It was another gorgeous day to sell wares curbside. My thanks to the gentleman who donated five hardcover best-sellers, and to young Gareth, who bought four works of non-fiction; and to the Latino I hadn’t seen in a long time, who parked his bike and, as he’d done so often, overcompensated me for three DVDs in Russian… I learned a little about the background of Sam, who has said nice and relevant things about my books. His dad was a Jewish butcher, his mom an Episcopalian showgirl. They married in 1947. Imagine the guff those pioneers took from their families. Sam’s dad ate red meat and smoked two packs of Camels every day. He had a fatal heart attack when Sam was twelve. Thanks for sharing, sir. I love hearing such stuff.

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