For Christ's eternal love, go away!

Now, my friends, if you know anything about me, it's my love for sports. Almost any and all sports. (Sorry, hockey fans, I just can't get into that.) For the most part, you see men and women at the peak of their powers competing against each other on a level playing field. There's a reason why the ancient Greeks lauded their Olympians as the perfection of humanity. We mere mortals can bask in their reflected glory. No, we will never be Didier Drogba, but we can cheer him on and marvel at his abilities.

American presidents attending sporting events has a long and honored tradition. And I have never gainsaid any president of either party partaking of that reflected glory. It does speak well of them, that they enjoy watching men and women achieve feats which they never could. Presidents, steeped in America's democratic culture, didn't attend these events like kings and potentates; they were mere punters, like everyone else. (Just with more security.) When Barack Obama went to a basketball game, he was there as a fan. When George W. Bush went to a Texas Rangers game, again, he was there as a fan. You can agree or disagree with them politically, but they were there to watch the game and participate, not to make it all about themselves.

As you also know, La Familia de LL was reared in New York City. Now, your humble blog-lord came to California when he was 16. So bit by bit I jettisoned the fandom of my youth and embraced my new city's teams. The New York Mets and the New York Knicks were the teams of my youth. They, of course, have been replaced by the Dodgers and the Lakers. But my older brothers still hold onto the passions of their early years. My eldest brother, Tony, is a firm Knicks fan. He was so excited for his team to make it to the NBA Finals for the first time since the days of Latrell Sprewell in the 1990s.

And then the owner of said Knickerbockers decided to invite Donald Motherfucking Trump to a game.

When I saw that, as any loving little brother would do, I texted my brother Tony and told him, "Sorry, man, your chances just went up in smoke." He agreed.

Again, American presidents have attended all sorts of sporting events for time immemorial, and it elicited little opprobrium. But Donald Trump is no president. Donald Trump is no American. If he accepts James Dolan's invitation, he will be going not as a fan. He will not be going as an aficionado of America's "beautiful game". He will attend for one reason only: To self-aggrandize himself. He will go to make himself the center of the spectacle. He will go to "own the libs". 

One has to ask why he would even think of going into Madison Square Garden, to a city which despises him. And the answer to that is his bottomless need for attention. It is of a piece with his self-intrusion into last summer's Club World Cup, where he ruined me watching my team, Chelsea FC, win the trophy. Chelsea players were amused by this pathetic creature celebrating with them, celebrating a sport of which he knows nothing. It will be the same this summer with the World Cup. He knows less than nothing about the beautiful game, but his sclerotic mug will be beamed all over the world, and that's all he cares about, even if 90% of those watching him curse his name.

If you are any student of history, you know the pattern. Strongmen associating themselves with the pastimes of their oppressed subjects. In Spain during the regime of the fascist Francisco Franco, the football domestic cup competition, the Copa del Rey, was renamed the Copa del Generalissimo. Adolf Hitler presiding over the 1936 Olympics. Vladimir Putin, in his less-guarded days, playing hockey against a team of simps. These wretches know that their power depends on keeping their subjects onside. Ask any Roman emperor the dangers of losing the populace. It does a tyrant no harm to pretend to appreciate the passions of the hoi polloi.

But Trump is not popular. The majority of the country despises him. Certainly, the majority of fans in MSG on the day he deigns to attend will have thousands of Bronx cheers to rain down on him. So why does he do it?

Because he is a bottomless well of need. His greatest regret is that, for all his money, the social and cultural elite of the city had him pegged from the start. Nothing better than a louche used car salesman from Jamaica, Queens. Someone with no culture, no refinement, no soul. It's why he absconded to Florida, to a place which didn't make such nice distinctions. His yearning, pathological need has always been to be accepted as one of the elite. The fact that he is nothing of the kind has been the motive force of all his criminality. 

So, now he's going to beclown himself again in pursuit of acceptance. One could write a tragic novel about that. But it couldn't be about Trump. Because Trump has no redeeming qualities. And now he's going to ruin a city's moment, a city who rejected him. And, maybe, that's the point.

Anyway, go Knicks. You are more than your pathetic owner. And certainly more than the man who once called New York City his home. But I fear you have been doomed.