“New Yorkers are not a monolith, and while some yell out ‘Let’s go Knicks!’ at every given opportunity, others are impervious to the buzz.” — New York Times

That would be me — unshakably impervious to, totally unimpressed and unmoved by the buzz that’s so electrifying Knicks fever in the Tri-State Area.

Nothing personal against the mighty Knicks, which is barreling its way to the championships or something like that. (I really don’t know. I really don’t care.) But I have never been a team sports fanatic — I’m not sure what’s more grindingly tedious: basketball, baseball or football — and I have never understood its allure. I’m not a big fan of shouting.

I’ve said it before: I find sports at once boring and obnoxious. The whooping, clamoring fans alone are the apotheosis of crazed, numbskull tribalism, smacking of little less than nationalistic Neanderthals.

Tonight the Knicks face, I believe, the Spurs and I care more about the lint balls on my bedroom floor. Everyone enjoy themselves during the high-stakes spectacle of peerless skill and outsize athleticism — “Let’s go Knicks!” — while I watch a movie or read a book or attempt some more of this writing thing. 

For some reason — enlighten me — this relegates me to irredeemable wussdom. I abhor herd mentality and that’s what I see in the raucous “community” of big time sports. It’s all a little gross, chest-thumpingly, high-fivingly gross.

Believe me, I have tried earnestly to care and understand the mechanics of the games, and I have reliably dozed off. I enjoy Olympic sports, especially the individual games, far more. In that sense, I’m a loner. While I played soccer a lot as a kid, snow skiing and BMX were my real passions. 

For all that, I wish the Knicks the best. Stomp the Spurs, or whoever you’re playing. Go, um, Knicks!