Melo’s night ended with him hobbling and limping off the court after spraining his ankle in the third quarter. (Paul J. Bereswill)
Listen: There are 19,033 people inside Madison Square Garden, and they rock the joint with the same fervor of the folks who were here a night earlier, roaring at The Who, shrieking at the Chris Martin/Michael Stipe duet, screeching at the quasi Nirvana reunion featuring Sir Paul.
Only this time the rock star is named Carmelo Anthony, who made eight of his first nine shots, who has 29 points in 22 minutes, who has electrified the room and slapped around the Lakers. He has the ball. The Knicks have a 16-point lead.
“Zoned in,” he will say later. “Locked in. One of those games where I had that feeling …”
Look: There is Melo, a step past Metta World Peace again, streaking toward the basket, leaping, leaning, lunging …
Crashing.
“One of them awkward falls,” he will say.
Listen: to the silence, as if someone kicked Pete Townsend’s amplifier out of a wall Wednesday night, as if someone knocked over Dave Grohl’s drum kit, as if someone unplugged Alicia Keys’ microphone. This is what a buzz kill sounds like. And what dread looks like.
“All you’re thinking,” Raymond Felton said, “is one thing. And that’s: Get up, Melo.’”
“The way he was playing,” Tyson Chandler said after the Knicks ground their way to a 116-107 victory, “there’s no telling how much he would have gotten. And there’s no way his game winds up as close as it did at the end.”
Call it the consequence of wandering too far ahead of yourself, a sobering reminder of just how long the long season really is. How long? At this time last year, the Knicks were still 11 days away from opening day of a 66-game, strike-truncated season.
As Anthony flew toward the hoop last night, it sure felt like the Knicks had been at this magical mystery tour of a season for longer than 22 games, but that’s all it is, barely past the quarter pole. Then Anthony falls and the imagination soars: Ripped-up ACL? Ruptured vertebrae? Cracked tailbone? All seemed possible. It was a grisly fall.
“Ankle, knee, hip … I’m real sore right now,” Anthony would say.
The diagnosis: sprained left ankle, and the smart money has him sitting out tomorrow’s Garden scrimmage with Cleveland with an eye toward taking part in Monday’s reunion with Jeremy Lin and the Rockets.
“Day by day,” is how Melo described it, which sounds about right.
For him. And for Knicks fans. After all, you get ahead of yourself, that’s when sports has a way of delighting in taking your breath away. That’s when Vinny Testaverde’s Achilles rolls up like a window shade, when Derek Jeter’s leg snaps like cordwood, when Plaxico Burress walks into the Latin Quarter nightclub.
You know the saying about the best way to make God laugh — tell him what your plans are? The sporting gods work the same way. Offer up a hint that you’re already altering your vacation so you’ll have the late spring free. Provide even a glimpse that you’re certain the good times have returned forever …
Then watch your best player crumple to the ground.
“A little bit,” Mike Woodson admitted, asked if his heart was in his mouth watching his signature player lay on his back. “But we’re about picking each other up. We’ve played with injuries all year. It’s just something you’re going to have to be able to do.”
Anthony did eventually get to his feet, did knock down one out of two free throws to reach 30, did try to run through the pain. Then checked out of the game, walked to the locker room, and left it to his teammates to hold off the late-charging Lakers and push themselves to 17-5 on the year.
“I had no idea how bad it was,” Chandler said. “Then I come to the bench, look around, and ask, ‘Where’s Melo?’ And that’s when it’s, ‘Uh-oh.’”
The star will survive, and so will the Knicks, and so will the fans who’ve grown accustomed to waiting for the dropped second shoe. Earlier in the day, Woodson tried to summarize his team’s quest.
“My clock’s ticking,” Woodson said. “Some of these guys we have, their clocks are ticking, too. It’s time to make the most of what we’ve got.”
Melo’s clock ticks, as do the ones belonging to Knicks fans. As do their hearts. Barely.
michael.vaccaro@nypost.com