Any true sports fan knows you pick a team before puberty and you ride or die with them until they close your coffin. You can no more swap teams than you can change your height or family history.
But you are allowed to leave a club, a forlorn franchise that is so inept that you’ve moved beyond the paper bag at home games. You just can’t pluck a new club, and thus are banished to a kind of sporting purgatory.
So it is with yours truly, a basketball gypsy who lives outside the NBA bubble because I was raised a Knicks fan.