Dear Carmelo,

Hey bud, it’s been a while. Hope all is well with the family. Just me again checking in, I swear, this is my last one.

I’m going to be upfront — I need you now tonight, I need you more than ever (note: stop playing “Total Eclipse of the Heart” when writing these letters). It’s been bad so far, real bad, like, our-second-best-scoring-option-tore-his-ACL-and-we-can-only-play-six-players bad. Like, only-30,000-might-show-up-to-the-Duke-game bad. I don’t use this phrase often Carmelo, but it’s “Baby Geniuses 2” bad.

Let’s not kid ourselves. The Knicks do not need you. They have given up. How do I know this? They are starting Cole Aldrich and Jason Smith on a consistent basis. They might as well have a drunk Tom Hanks coach the team, because he would have the same impact. Frankly it’s upsetting to see your talents being wasted somewhere you aren’t appreciated. Sure, they are paying you $22 million this year, but we have Bruegger’s.

Think about it though — you’re a competitor who loves to win. The Knicks aren’t giving you that. So why not come back to the old stomping grounds and dominate like you always knew you could? Imagine being a 30-year-old man playing against college kids. It would literally be stealing candy from a baby. But that candy is the national championship, and Kentucky is your baby.

We are more than willing to compromise, and we have gifts. We have already renovated the Melo Center (thanks again, by the way) and made it into a bouncy castle, just like your son ordered. Dr. Darryl Gross was a little pissed, but we’re committed to bringing you back no matter the cost.

And Jim Boeheim is still here. He’s the reason why you came in the first place. He’s 12 years older, which has multiplied his grumpiness by the power of 10, but in a fun way. The nose-picking thing is played out, but no relationship is perfect. And if he gets really cranky, just leave a plate of cookies and milk for him after practice — he usually settles down.

Don’t worry about people finding out you aren’t in college, I’m already three steps ahead on this plan.

I relay to the athletics office that Syracuse has recently enrolled a foreign exchange student from Italy, Caramello Antonio, who will be playing for the Orange the rest of the season. Since you aren’t transferring from another school, you can come in right away. I’m not positive these are the rules, but I was a benchwarmer on my sixth-grade rec basketball team, so I think I know a thing or two about basketball. What is really important here is selling that Italian accent. For reference, I’ve sent you the pre-movie premiere scene of “Inglourious Basterds” to help you nail it down.

Come on, don’t you miss it here? The roaring fans chanting your name, the sea of orange, free dining hall food everywhere you go, a dorm room, your own TV, constant snow up to your knees … I should stop.

If you get this before my seven voicemails, just skip them. They start coherently, but by the fifth or sixth I end up screaming nonsense to the chorus of “Welcome Back” by Mase. We’ve fallen on hard times here. Gerry McNamara went Brick Tamland on us and forgot how to speak English. DaJuan Coleman is knitting sweaters to cope. If I sound desperate, it’s because I am.

Just remember all the good times we had, and maybe you’ll come around.

So call me, beep me, if you want to reach me.

(P.S. I don’t know, “Kim Possible” was pretty huge in 2003. Worth a shot. Let me know if you want to talk about it. The naked mole rat looks like the chancellor and it makes me laugh. OK, I’m done. Bye.)

Yours truly,
Danny

Danny Cuneo is a television, radio and film major. If he could pull off Carmelo Anthony’s cornrows, you would know by now. His column runs every Thursday in Pulp. He can be reached at dacuneo@syr.edu.

Published on January 29, 2015 at 12:01 am