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Be warned: An Absurdly Long Satire Awaits
Editor’s note: This is satire. Brent Brooks is not, to our knowledge, the current head coach of the New York Knicks. Yet.
Breaking: Knicks Hire MMB Staff Writer Brent Brooks as Head Coach in Stunning Alternate Timeline Plot Twist
In an offseason already brimming with chaos, the New York Knicks have pulled off the most confounding move of all: they’ve hired Brent Brooks—yes, the MMB writer, the cardigan-wearer, the Mavs Moneyball metaphor merchant-as their next head coach. (In real life, I own zero cardigans.)
The decision came after the Knicks reportedly failed to secure interviews with actual NBA head coaches, including Jason Kidd, Quin Snyder, and Ime Udoka. Permission requests were denied left and right. Desperate, Dolan and company turned to a wildcard: Brent Brooks, a man who once slow-clapped Jalen Brunson so hard in a Dream Lounge at the AAC that Julius Randle tore a meniscus out of pure emotional whiplash. Sources say Dolan, eyes glassy with chaos, muttered something about “needing a vibe shift” and scribbled Brent’s name on a napkin during a press meeting at Tao Downtown.
I am introduced as Head Coach of the Knicks
In his introductory press conference, Brooks arrived wearing Warby Parkers and a quarter-zip that may or may not have been corduroy. When asked what system he planned to implement, he replied: “Basketball, but with feelings - my coaching inspiration comes directly from lauded basketball writer
Mette L. Robertson.”
“Why was I hired you may be wondering, well, I’m not currently an NBA head coach,” the new hire said at the podium, sipping from a 7-Eleven coffee cup. “And apparently, that was the only remaining requirement.”
Brooks, 50, brings no prior coaching experience to the role but cites 65% qualification due to owning multiple cardigans and his ability to slow clap for Jalen Brunson with deep emotional sincerity.
“I’ll stand. I’ll clap. And I will clap
with meaning,” Brooks told the New York media who normally would have lobbed tough questions when a no-name NBA blogger from another team is randomly hired to be the new head coach. Instead, they sat in stunned silence, admiring the cardigan and the completely unfounded confidence. “Look at it this way, boys. You media types might see me as an unqualified hack, but we live in a world where anyone can be placed in any position they are unqualified for, and people just accept it.”
A chart behind newly minted Coach Brent Brooks highlighted the projected Knicks Starting Five – Post-Eastern Conference Finals Flameout:
PG: Jalen Brunson – playing like an old man at age 28, runs on willpower and shot fakes alone.
SG: Josh Hart – still rebounding like a power forward and podcasting through the pain.
SF: Mikal Bridges – fresh out of Brooklyn, trying to save his ankles after carrying the Nets.
PF: OG Anunoby – elite defender, allergic to media attention, may or may not be an AI simulation.
C: Karl-Anthony Towns – vibes unclear, game log deeply concerning.
Brooks paused for effect, then added: “Look, I don’t know if we’ll win. But I promise you we’ll feel
everything along the way.”
The media room went quiet, save for Ian Begley nodding slowly like a man who just heard the ocean speak.
Brent then quoted David Foster Wallace, thanked the MSG janitorial staff for their “clean emotional palette,” and refused to answer a single question about Towns.
“You’ll know my philosophy when you see us take a charge
and mean it,” he said.
He closed by playing a single chord on an acoustic guitar and walking offstage without explanation.
Within minutes, Spike Lee had fallen out of his courtside chair, screaming, “WE HIRED WHO??” at a hot dog vendor who did not work there.
Stephen A. Smith went live on Instagram, pacing in a velvet robe and yelling, “This man writes metaphors! METAPHORS! I need Xs and Os, not…
feeling-based clap tempo!”
The Knicks did not respond to comment, but team PR released a statement reading: “We believe in Coach Brooks’ unique vision. And cardigan.”
Local Media Breaks the Story Back in Dallas
L
ocked On Mavericks: The Emergency Podcast Episode
Nick Angstadt (host voice trembling with disbelief):
“We are here with an EMERGENCY podcast because… the Knicks have just hired… Brent Brooks. That’s right. Mavs Moneyball’s Brent. No assistant experience. No Summer League reps. Not even a G League internship. Just vibes. Vibes and cardigans.”
Isaac Harris (adjusts cap, sermon mode)
“Look, God doesn’t call the qualified—he qualifies the called. And clearly, Brooks is called… to chaos.”
Slightly Biased (interrupting with prop glasses and hand puppets)
“What’s next? Signing me to a 10-day? Me and Bartholomew the stat puppet have been running pick-and-rolls in my apartment since Covid.”
On DLLS, Stein interrupts Cato’s description of the lemon-ricotta pancakes he enjoyed during yesterday’s brunch with his folks.
Mark Stein (breaking news tone):
“Sources tell me the Knicks are set to shock the basketball world by hiring… Brent Brooks. Yes. That Brent. No, I don’t know what his credentials are either. But he’s emotionally intelligent and good at pacing halftime speeches with jazz guitar transitions.”
Tim Cato (deadpan):
“He once called the Luka trade a ‘reverse moon landing.’ I don’t know if that means he’s a genius… or if we’ve all gone mad.”
Bobby Karalla (gentle skepticism):
“We respect the analytics here at DLLS. But nothing in our metrics had Brent’s coaching efficiency rating above ‘Knows How to Log Into Synergy.’ Still… we’ll see.”
Kevin Gray:
“We’ll see what the cardigan brings,” Gray concluded. “But make no mistake: the Knicks just went full game-show host Wink Martindale vibes here — not the defensive coordinator. This isn’t football. This is Tic-Tac-Dough with tears.”
The Mavs Brass Reacts
Back in Dallas, the mood ranges from stunned to spiritually unwell. Jason Kidd, whose name was originally floated for the Knicks job before the Mavericks refused permission to interview, has reportedly entered what team insiders are calling his “Vengeful Clipboard Era.” He now patrols the halls of the AAC with a laminated copy of Brent’s 2023 “
Fire Kidd” op-ed in one hand and a manila folder labeled “Receipts on Brent Brooks” in the other.
“Finally,” he mutters each time Knicks vs. Mavs shows up on the schedule. “A chance to outwit the cardigan.”
He’s allegedly drafted a playsheet titled
Attack the Weak Link (Brooks), which is, according to sources, just a blown-up courtside photo of Brooks mid-yawn.
Nico Harrison, meanwhile, is breathing easier—professionally, at least. With Brooks now 1,400 miles away and coaching the Knicks, he no longer has to wake up to metaphors comparing his executive strategy to “
Captain Kirk handing the Enterprise over to a Ferengi.” But the emotional toll remains. He refuses to say Brooks’ name aloud, referring to him only as “the analogist.” “His phone now autocorrects ‘Brent’ to [cringe face emoji] and there are whispered reports that he still doom-scrolls Mavs Moneyball at 3 a.m., looking for fresh slander laced with gifs. “I am not no damn
Salieri..” he whispers into his goose down pillow.
And then there’s Patrick Dumont.
The neophyte owner—still unsure whether the chorus of boos echoing through the AAC is meant for him or the visiting opponent—has chosen to believe it’s the latter. Once a quiet admirer of Brooks’ metaphors (particularly the ones involving food and post-apocalyptic space diplomacy), Dumont had Brooks on a shortlist to replace Nico.
But when the news broke that Brooks had been hired by the Knicks, Dumont reportedly strode into his office, opened a manila folder labeled “Contingencies,” and pulled a 3x5 index card bearing Brent’s name. Without a word, he took out a jumbo Sharpie and X’d it out with the violence of a man scrubbing blood from prophecy.
“I liked the overcooked metaphors,” he whispered mournfully. “But he got too powerful.”
Every Head Coach Needs A Great Staff
Brooks selected an unlikely coaching staff that has already made headlines for its... unconventional composition.
Matt Martinez—known affectionately (and fearfully) as “Coach Chill No More”—oversees the Knicks’ defense with the intensity of a man who hasn’t slept since Tibs got fired. His scheme? Blitz-heavy, body-first, accountability-core. His mood? Combative. His relationship with Karl-Anthony Towns? Irretrievably broken.
Martinez and Towns hate each other. Not in a playful “iron sharpens iron” way. In an “HR may need to be involved” way.
Nobody knows exactly how it started. Some say it began during a film session titled “Jokic: Your Personal Kryptonite,” when Martinez hurled a folding chair across the room. Others claim the rift stems from Martinez’s repeated success flirting with, and occasionally dating, Knicks City Dancers, but only the ones Towns had long harbored crushes on. One even left a scrunchie in the locker room. Martinez wore it on his wrist for a week.
When asked about Towns’ defensive motor, Martinez snarled: “Motor? That man’s got a Vespa engine with a flat tire.”
Towns, in response, told the New York Post: “I’m just here so I don’t foul out.”
The feud reached new heights when the Knicks faced the Nuggets, and Martinez demanded Towns watch Jokic highlights on a loop while doing wall sits. It ended in a shouting match so loud, Quentin Grimes (now a Sixer) texted from Philly to ask if everything was okay.
Tensions remain high. But Coach Martinez insists it’s all part of the plan: “You want to stop bigs in the East? You better be ready to bark. And if Towns doesn’t want to get better, I’ll just trade for Brook Lopez out of spite.”
David Trink and
Tyler Edsel—real-life respected Mavs Moneyball contributors—have reinvented themselves in New York as the Knicks’ Co-Directors of Advanced Analytics. Officially, they break down lineup data and optimize player efficiency. Unofficially, they’re orchestrating the most audacious underground betting scheme since point-shaving scandals were cool.
Tired of the modest payouts and existential grind of writing about +1450 SGPs, they’ve conspired with select Knicks players to tank specific stat lines on demand. Trink handles the bribery. Edsel manages the spreadsheets. Together, they’ve mastered the dark art of the “Fade the Statline” parlay.
According to one whistleblower’s slip log, entries include: Karl-Anthony Towns under 5.5 assists, paired with six French League overs. Miles McBride under 3.5 rebounds, cross-sported with Tasmanian dog racing. Their burner phone chatter is reportedly filled with terms like “stinky PRA night” and “Spite Unders,” usually mumbled over black coffee at a Midtown IHOP.
When asked about the legal risk, Trink just grins and says, “I once hit a 6-leg parlay on European handball. I fear nothing.”
Edsel adds, “If I’m going to federal prison, I’m taking Brunson’s assist total down with me.”
“Look, if you’re not risking federal prison for your slips, are you even coaching?” Trink asked.
Sudarshan Venkatraman—imported from India and overqualified by several dimensions of time and space—serves as the Knicks’ Offensive Coordinator. Known to players and staff as SV, he is a walking paradox on this otherwise chaotic roster: tactically brilliant, philosophically grounded, and entirely too kind for the emotional war zone that is Madison Square Garden. He spends most of practice drawing up beautiful offensive sets that no one executes because Martinez and Towns are screaming at each other again.
Every week, four different NBA teams try to poach him. Every week, the Knicks decline their interview requests, citing “ongoing strategic value in future analytics-forward triangle-based hybrid sets.” SV doesn’t even know what that means.
He once tried to calm an argument between Towns and Martinez by drawing up a horns action with flares off the weak side. Martinez ripped the clipboard in half. Towns called it “too mathy.”
Deep down, he knows he could be running a top-tier program somewhere else. But for reasons he can’t quite explain — possibly a misplaced sense of duty or an ongoing hostage clause in his contract — he remains. The quiet genius on a staff full of cartoon chaos.
Gracie Villiard remains the most enigmatic member of Brent’s coaching staff. Officially listed as an assistant coach, she doesn’t speak during games and rarely interacts with the team. She simply sits behind the bench, Gatorade towel clenched tightly in both fists, and glares, slowly shaking her head - at what? No one knows. No one dares ask. Players say she terrifies both benches—opposing coaches included—and that even Coach Brooks gives her a wide berth. Josh Hart claims she once muttered something during a timeout, though no one else heard it. That night, she reportedly won the team’s underground poker game in 11 minutes. She is, by all accounts, the architect of that game and its undefeated reigning champion. The vibe around her is so intense that she’s been dubbed the Phantom Coach. Even the arena’s sound system seems to lower itself when she’s in the building. Clint Carroll equates his fear of Gracie to his fear of Mavs Man — high reverence, mixed with childhood trauma. He once ducked behind a vending machine when Mavs Man made a halftime appearance. The footage has been scrubbed, but the fear remains.
Also causing a stir behind the scenes is
Jack Bonin, a longtime Mavs Moneyball contributor turned Knicks travel coordinator. Originally brought in to organize charter flights and wrangle Marriott Bonvoy points, Jack has taken on an unexpected side quest: pitching Knicks players on a “protein-forward snack bar concept” he claims is nearing Series A funding. Known online as
SnackPr0tein, Jack is often spotted in the bowels of Madison Square Garden, cornering visiting players with lines like, “I know you’re focused on tonight’s matchup, but just imagine… macadamia matcha recovery bites with 12 grams of protein and 0 grams of added guilt.” Team officials have gently warned him, but at this point, the hustle is part of the mystique. Jack doesn’t just coordinate road trips — he roadmaps exit strategies for NBA bodies, one prebiotic chia crisp at a time.
Ben Zajdel is technically a MMB contributor—occasionally an editor—but somehow finds himself on every Knicks team flight. No one knows how he affords it. There’s a persistent theory that he’s converting forgotten Blockbuster Rewards Points into frequent-flyer miles. Ben’s real mission isn’t basketball—it’s gastronomy. He diligently maintains a food blog called “Bites & Bylines” hosted on Blogspot, last redesigned in 2013, where he chronicles the team’s culinary misadventures with alarming confidence. Known to dramatically whip out a leather-bound notebook at restaurants (even airport Chili’s) to jot down tasting notes, he introduces himself to maître d’s as “culinary press” and occasionally scores free appetizers. He believes Yelp is for cowards and insists
The Bear is loosely based on his life, despite having never worked in a kitchen. Sudarshan once asked to see the analytics behind Ben’s scathing two-star empanada review. Ben replied: “It’s a vibe thing.”
Kirk Henderson, Mavs Moneyball editor-in-chief turned Knicks staff shadow agent, holds the official title of Chief Vibes Officer / Emergency Timeout Translator. His duties are… fluid. He sits exactly six inches too close to the huddle so players can hear him mumble things like, “This is insane,” under his breath. When the other team goes on a 13–2 run and the Knicks burn a timeout, Kirk solemnly produces a laminated card that simply reads: “You knew this was coming. Why didn’t you adjust?”
Wearing a quarter-zip and Air Monarchs, he glares at whichever assistant is in charge of “grit.” His only job during practice is to sit high up in the stands, sip gas station coffee spiked with Tito’s, and yell, “We tried that in 2016! Didn’t work then either!” Once a month, he gets to override a play call and screams: “Run the ‘I give up’ set! You know the one—double high screen into a 28-foot heave!”
After every game, Kirk delivers a 90-second soliloquy into a hot mic before realizing the press conference hasn’t started yet. He has an ongoing feud with a Knicks camera operator who refuses to pan to him when he does “the eyebrow raise.” Henderson also maintains the team’s secret group text for emotional processing, ominously titled:
This Is Why We Drink.
Newly added MMB Staff
Michael Harris, originally brought in as a metrics consultant, has become something else entirely:
Coach Brent Brooks’ unsolicited personal security detail. A brown-belt martial artist with a passion for comic books and a strict no-nonsense stance on fan behavior, Harris has taken it upon himself to trail Coach Brooks during public outings, especially in restaurants.
Whether Brent is eating risotto, debating metaphors with the sommelier, or explaining potential Cooper Flagg trade mechanics over duck confit, Michael is nearby. Watching. Waiting. Scanning for Nico Harrison fanboys who might want to challenge Brent to a duel of...philosophies. Coach Brooks has repeatedly asked Harris to just enjoy the evening and sit down. Harris, sipping a Topo Chico in the corner, lowers his sunglasses to reply: “I’m good right here.”
Things escalated recently when two middle-aged Knicks fans from Uncasville, Connecticut, approached Brent’s table at Carbone asking, ever so politely, for a selfie “with the Cardigan.” Before Brent could reply, Harris materialized from the shadows and barked, “Three feet back, ma’am! No sudden gestures!” The women, startled and now visibly shaken, were consoled with official Knicks merch and a pair of courtside seats as an apology for what team PR later called a “protective overcorrection rooted in loyalty and brown belt discipline.”
It’s unclear if he was ever officially hired as a bodyguard, but like most things in the Knicks organization under Brooks, his role is a mystery wrapped in sarcasm, encased in deep loyalty. He hasn’t played a real game of Mario Kart since he took the job. “Too much edge required,” he mutters.
Bryan “Robi” Porter is technically just a rookie MMB contributor, but within Brent’s Knicks coaching chaos, he serves as a postgame confidant and spiritual advisor. After every game, Robi appears via glitchy Skype call with a suspiciously perfect background—mahogany bookshelves, roaring fireplace, tasteful globe—and delivers eerily accurate coaching notes. The green screen is an open secret. The staff joke: “Robi’s got more assets than our rotation.” Some say he’s hiding a messy room. Others believe it conceals an ultra-mansion. One particularly persistent rumor suggests Robi is a silent billionaire with stakes in three European basketball clubs and a mid-tier F1 team. He refuses comment. What he doesn’t refuse are opinions. “I wouldn’t play Brunson 43 minutes… but then again, I wouldn’t need overtime to beat Indiana either,” he quipped once. “Ever considered running horns flex out of triangle drift?” he offered another time. “I had the same rug as the Knicks locker room sauna—in my second beach house.” Gracie suspects he’s laundering poker winnings. Josh Bowe tried to Zoom him once and received only a black screen and a Venmo request. Coach Brent Brooks, however, treats it as gospel. He nods. He listens. He takes notes. Because Robi is always—somehow—right. He is the Green Screen Oracle. And his wisdom comes in at 720p.
Hank (aka
@PandaHank41), the legendary Mavs YouTuber, now serves as Brent’s Director of Replay Challenge Strategy — though internally he’s referred to as the Crypto-Paid Highlight Whisperer. Officially, he coordinates video replay. Unofficially, he’s a shadow genius who sees everything, edits faster than the league office, and communicates exclusively through encrypted messages adorned with a blinking cartoon panda face.
Hank has made the best Mavs highlight videos on the internet for over a decade. He was born in Taiwan, lives somewhere in the U.S., and has never been seen in person. Not on Zoom. Not at media day. Not even in the background of other people’s photos. Every game-related message arrives with a 7-digit blockchain address and a timestamped panda GIF.
He’s often sent Brent a full highlight reel before the 4th quarter ends, annotated with lines like:
“2nd Q, 7:11 – That’s the foul to challenge. Trust me.”
“3rd Q, 4:20 – Brunson got fouled AND stared down. Bonus spice. Clip incoming.”
“Towns looked at the ball for 3 straight seconds and forgot it was live. We’re cutting that.”
As for payment? Hank accepts only crypto. Not Ethereum. Not Bitcoin. Half in Polygon, half in Akita Inu Coin. Occasionally, he demands one NFT per quarter “for mental clarity.”
“He’s our Oracle,” Coach Brooks whispered. “I trust him with my timeout allotment.”
Team reaction has been appropriately bizarre. Sudarshan once tried converting his entire paycheck into crypto just to understand Hank’s economy of clarity. He still hasn’t recovered. Josh Bowe swears he saw Hank at an airport in Dallas — it turned out to be a guy with a neck pillow and a Dirk jersey. Brent once asked Hank if they could do a strategy call over Zoom. The response? A QR code and a time zone no one recognized.
The Trade Offer
Sources confirm Coach Brooks has already floated his first major trade offer — OG Anunoby, Precious Achiuwa, and
all remaining Knicks first-round picks in exchange for Cooper Flagg and “a chance to start fresh with someone who still believes in symbols.”
Flagg’s camp has declined to comment. But Knicks Senior VP of Basketball Operations Gersson Rosas—a man forged in the data caverns of Houston and briefly GM of the
Dallas Mavericks—is reportedly intrigued.
Rosas has requested a meeting between himself, Coach Brent Brooks, and Mavericks GM Nico Harrison to be held at Ascension Coffee in Dallas. The meeting will not take place immediately. “December,” Rosas clarified. “After the dust settles and we see who’s still standing emotionally.”
League insiders believe Harrison just wants to look Coach Brooks in the eyes and see if he ever truly believed that
Captain Kirk metaphor.
Near the trade deadline, back at Mavs Moneyball HQ, someone refreshes the page. “He really did it,” mutters
Josh Bowe, somehow still working at MMB, despite now being with the Knicks in a dark closet cutting game film. “The Knicks are getting Cooper Flagg for OG Anunoby. And the Mavericks are attaching a second-round pick; this is nuts. I’ll grab the news piece.”
Nico Harrison faces the media the next morning and in his opening statement says, “Good Morning, Everyone. Cooper Flagg was a talented player, not sure about his breakfast habits, though. Plus, if you don’t value OG as a top-flight defensive player in this league, then you won’t like the trade. And without question, OG fits our timeline of zero-to-one years.”
Later that night, after watching
Who’s the Boss? reruns he’d VHS’ed off TV Land during his Nike days, Harrison stood in the bathroom mirror, realizing—deep down—he’d been played again.
Two generational stars gone in a calendar year. All he had to show for it: a British basketball player… and the villain from
Unbreakable.
Somewhere, deep inside him, a voice whispered: “
You just got cardigan’d.”
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