The red hats accuse me of blaming Donald Trump for everything that happens?
Fine. Today I will blame the Mad King for something yet to happen: the New York Knicks will lose the NBA Finals to San Antonio. Mark my words. They will not win another game. This is not me cheering for the Spurs. I am just gazing into my Trump Derangement Syndrome crystal ball while crunching data from the “Trump Curse” in sports.
Going into Game 3 on Monday at Madison Square Garden, New Yorkers were giddy. Baby strollers were festooned with team logos. Straphangers offered commuters baked goods. The bodegas were as safe as Iceland.
Mayor Zohran Mamdani signed a playful executive order: “I hereby direct that bedtimes in the City of New York are repealed during the NBA Finals so that kids of all ages can root for their New York Knicks.”
And why not? The team won the first two games in Texas. They had Big Mo. The Knicks were on a 45-day streak without a loss. Long suffering fans dared to wonder if this 2026 squad was destined to win the first championship since 1973.
Then Trump showed up for Game 3. Or as Ann Coulter, author of “In Trump We Trust,” wrote on X: “Of all the selfish, narcissistic things Trump has done, attending MSG to see the Knicks play in person Monday night is the absolute worst …”
The election denialism, corruption, grifting and total idiocy on the economy and foreign policy may be worse. But Ms. Coulter was mostly right. Even before tipoff, there was an NYC mood shift as a presidential motorcade and security perimeter T-boned the city’s mojo.
The Knicks outdoor watch party was scuttled. Fans were prohibited from bringing bags to the game and told to arrive hours early, as if flying standby on SpaceX.
Given all of this, when Agent Orange’s face flashed on the GardenVision during the national anthem, the crowd hissed and booed as if seeing a morphed image of Jeffrey Epstein and Martin Shkreli on the Jumbotron.
Trump later called the crowd reaction “amazing,” proving again he lives inside a reality distortion field. If someone punched him in the mouth, he’d claim it was because they simply couldn’t resist touching the sexiest lips in history.
The Knicks 13-game win streak got snapped by the Mad King’s toxic jinx.
The only reason he attended was because a global spotlight was on Game 3 and he can’t stand to be ignored for one night. He cares about basketball less than he cares about affordability. He even nodded off in the luxury box, probably as Stephen Miller was frantically texting to ask why there aren’t more white players in the NBA.
I’m somewhat sympathetic to when Trump dozes off during one of his Pyongyang-style cabinet meetings as bootlickers allege he can walk on water or mend a sick kitten with psionic healing. Scott Bessent’s gushing drone could put a bullfrog into a deep slumber.
But how do you fall asleep during an NBA Finals game?
I’m sorry, Knicks fans. You were alive and kicking until Trump hit the snooze button on this season. It’s over. The Spurs will win the next three games. Then on June 16, Victor Wembanyama will hoist the Larry O’Brien Championship Trophy and likely chip it on the MSG rafters because he is taller than Exitar the Exterminator. That guy looks like a skyscraper among bungalows on the court.
The Trump Curse is real. Just ask Shohei Ohtani about his offensive stats after he shook hands with the doofus-in-chief when the Dodgers, World Series champs, were invited to the White House. Ohtani often now looks like he’s trying to hit a marble that’s moving at Mach 5.
Ask the Kansas City Chiefs what happened after Trump predicted they’d win the Super Bowl last year. Ask Tiger Woods how his comeback is going after Trump vowed the golfer was in line for more majors. Or ask one of Tiger’s airbags.
From boxing to the Daytona 500, from the Ryder Cup to the NFL, from baseball to basketball, if Trump is cheering for you, the outcome is cosmically guaranteed: You will lose. Ask Evander Holyfield. Or ask the Team USA hockey team about what happened in overtime after Trump called them before the final game against Canada at the 4 Nations Face-off in 2025.
The ridiculous UFC Freedom 250 fight card, to unfold Sunday on the South Lawn at the White House, is also the president’s 80th birthday. I can tell you right now, one of those MMA pugilists will end up in a coma thanks to the Trump Curse.
Even before the final buzzer on Monday, social media — the modern day Oracle of Delphi — buzzed with two hashtags: #TrumpCurse and #ETTD, or Everything Trump Touches Dies.
RIP, New York Knicks and the hopes and dreams of fans.
The team had a good run until Trump showed up and dunked on destiny.
