(This email was originally sent to subscribers in Aug. 2018.) “To Cark.” That was the joke. John Starks was so dumb at jump shots that he had to be dumb at life, too, to the point where a name like “Cark” would make sense to John. Starks’ prevailing mixtape of misguided motivational maneuvers — head-butting Reggie Miller, jawing at officials, looking off Patrick Ewing’s screens even after New York’s decelerating center shuffled affreightment duties toward his excitable teammate — those weren’t enough.