You probably already know this, but we have a hell of a good time here. At The Post, in this section, every day is a chance to take you along with us for one crazy, unpredictable ride after another. We get to watch sports every day. We get to argue about sports every day. We get to fire the manager and trade the quarterback and release the goalie.
We raise our voices sometimes.
We laugh a lot.
We hope you do the same. We know it wasn’t always easy in 2020. The world got in the way. The front of the paper sometimes interrupted our fun. It happens. But then we catch our breath, and we go through the various and splendid alphabets of our sporting life — to ESPN and FS1; to SNY and MSG and YES — and we find it again. We find all of it again.
And look: 2020 was a lot like other recent years around here. Nobody won a title. Nobody even got to a league final. The Islanders gave us a few thrills. The Yankees had a few October moments. Jacob deGrom threw 99 mph a lot, and Kevin Durant took an opening bow, and the Giants proved you don’t have to win more than 33 percent of the time to be considered a contender.
But this wasn’t 1956, when the Yankees and the Giants teamed to give us one of the great calendar years we’ve ever seen. It wasn’t the 17-month dream ride from Jan. 12, 1969, through May 8, 1970, when the Jets, Mets and Knicks conquered the world together, or even 1986 when the Mets won 116 games and the Giants went 17-2 and rolled over all comers.
You know what we want for you?
Well, for one, of course: a year that isn’t ransacked and roughed up by the virus. That’s on and off the court. All of us have been touched by it. All of us have been hurt by it. And normal won’t really feel like normal again until we can stand on long lines again for beer, for hot dogs, for ice cream. We need a time of good health again in order to usher in a time of good cheer again. And cheers again.
But we want this, too: We want a year like ’56 and ’86 for you, a year for you to scream yourself hoarse day after day until your larynx sues for peace. We want you to collect our back pages in your den, in your man cave, in your office, headlines that scream of victory and triumph, glory and grit. We want what you want: a year out of our dreams. We’re going to get that some year, you know. Why not this year? Why not this year?
And here’s a few other things we want:
Marc Berman: The hope is by April, Knicks coach Tom Thibodeau will hear his first loud and live “De-fense!” chant shaking the Garden. The fake noise being pumped inside “The World’s Most Emptiest Arena” in 2020 is, frankly, depressing.
Peter Botte: My wish is to see Noah Syndergaard and Luis Severino back on the mound, Saquon Barkley back on the field, Spencer Dinwiddie back on the court and Henrik Lundqvist back on the ice in 2021.
Zach Braziller: My hope for 2021 is that the NCAA finally ends the charade of amateurism and allows student-athletes to profit off their names and likenesses, no strings attached.
Larry Brooks: I wish for a full recovery and good health for Henrik Lundqvist. And then jumping ahead, a number retirement for the ages at the Garden.
Mark Cannizzaro: No more Zoom athlete interviews. As convenient as they may be to some industries, these are debilitating to writers who make a living developing trust and relationships with players through face-to-face locker room time.
Ken Davidoff: An MLB playoff spot gets determined by an automatic runner stealing home in the final regular-season game.
Ryan Dunleavy: I wish for the return of one of the great NFL traditions: Fans in attendance for the first night of the NFL draft to boo commissioner Roger Goodell, quizzically look around at each other no matter who the Jets pick, and convince themselves this pick is the player that finally restores greatness to the Giants.
Greg Joyce: Here’s wishing for all the Game 7s possible with crowds that shake the building and raise the hairs on your neck.
Howie Kussoy: I hope to watch Selection Sunday, to fill out a bracket, to see a Cinderella buzzer-beater, to enjoy “One Shining Moment” once more.
Brian Lewis: I hope the NBA’s short offseason and condensed regular season doesn’t lead to too many injuries, after watching Spencer Dinwiddie, Ja Morant and Kevin Love all go down in the first week.
Andrew Marchand: I hope broadcasters return to traveling as they did before. If stay-at-home calls ever became the norm, then so much knowledge will not only be lost, but never gained.
Phil Mushnick: My most earnest wish for 2021 is that folks cease vowing to become “more transparent” and instead start telling the truth.
Mike Puma: I wish for a day this summer that 41,000 fans can pass through the Citi Field turnstiles for a ceremony and proper farewell to Tom Seaver.
Paul Schwartz: My wish for Giants fans is for their passion to stay strong but for the vitriol to come down several notches.
Steve Serby: Hearing the crack of an Aaron Judge or Pete Alonso bat, the barking of the hot dog and beer vendors.
Joel Sherman: Six hundred plate appearances for Juan Soto because he has a chance to be among the greatest hitters ever.
Mollie Walker: My wish is for Rangers and Islanders fans to be blessed with eight straight Igor Shesterkin-Ilya Sorokin matchups.
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