Knicks won, now what?
Where do I put these feels?
I’m 50, probably a die hard Knicks fan for the last 38 of those years. Flirted with winning a championship twice, never got there. Until Saturday. I have been waiting my whole life, this whole city has been waiting for half a century, and as my Knickstagram feed exploded with scenes of triumph akin to VE Day in 1945 I can only smile. Hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers pouring out into the streets, not sure why, just knowing they need to be there. What’s next for me, for us, what’s next for this beleaguered city, what’s next for this tattered country, the human race? That’s what this odd series of unpredictable, come from behind wins has done to this city’s brain. It’s made us think big things, feel big feelings, believe in big things. Anything feels possible right now.
As I drove home last night with my son in the minivan passenger seat blasting and screaming Sinatra’s New York, New York with our windows down through our sleeping suburb like the deranged NBA rebels we were, a deep satisfaction swept over me. It stayed with me as I lay in bed at 1:30 replaying the insane shot making of Lord Jalen, thinking about the palpable fear I saw rip through the Spurs lineup as they felt the Knicks catch fire in the 4th, like they had each game, knowing they couldn’t stop this team from coming back yet again. I kept waking up in my fitful joy sleep with a smile on my face, re-realizing the Knicks were, in fact, world champions. What is wrong with me? It’s just basketball. It’s just a team that happens to be from the place I’m from. But it’s not just that. It’s my soul. I try to find parallels to compare it to in my life, but there just aren’t any. It’s not a personal accomplishment. A promotion, or artistic achievement. It’s different. It feels nothing like winning for yourself. It’s not that kind of joy. I didn’t do something great. I witnessed something great. We are happy for them. Happy for their happiness. And their happiness is for our happiness. They play for us. This team wanted to win for New York. It’s a big-love-hug-happy circle, which is exactly what I did with my brother and my two teenagers after our epic, game four, 29 point comeback. We stood silently in front of the TV, locked in an unbelieving embrace. No words to say, nothing else to do, but just breathe as a weird Knicks family, shocked at what we had just watched happen. When the four of us pulled back from the hug my 15-year-old son had tears streaming down his face. That’s the power of a comeback. An improbable snatching of victory from the jaws of defeat. It leads to an embrace, inches from the TV screen with tears. What is this? What makes us do this? Nothing else. Teenagers don’t hug their fathers much, and they rarely let them see tears. But not Wednesday. The hugs and tears were flowing. That’s magic.
There is nothing else in our world that causes this reaction. Tears of joy, silent hugs, adults jumping and screaming, cities pouring out into the street singing Alicia Keyes and Ole’ Blue Eyes tracks in unison. This is the uniqueness of sport. Is it silly? Sure as hell is. Is it one of the last purely good things in our lives? Also yes.
So what’s next? What do we do with all this joy? How do we channel it? Can we bottle it up and sell it to cities who need help? Can we use it to fix our schools, or our air, or some of the massive inequality we see? We’re New York, and we’ve seen what’s possible. Come on, let’s line up and solve some stuff. Like Jalen, let’s just make shit happen where there was no chance of it happening before. Let’s pivot fast, see a glimmer of an opportunity and be not afraid to create genius. Like this team, let’s rely on those around us to lift us up, and hold us on their shoulders as we strive for something bigger than us. Let’s show the world that the impossible can be possible. That no matter what odds are stacked against you a comeback is always just a streak away.
Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll just sit back in my recliner, fold my hands over my lap and breathe for a bit. I deserve a moment’s rest. We all do. We’ve all played our hearts out. I told my sweet youngest brother, in the heat of the moment last night, to shut up when he said we had won even though there were still 12 seconds left in the game. He hadn’t seen what Reggie did to us in ‘95. He never heard Ewing promise victory, only to not quite deliver. He isn’t as afraid of jinxes as these last 38 years have made me. Sorry Gabe. This season I watched about 225 hours of Knicks basketball. Probably 72 regular season games and 19 playoff games. Almost 10 full days worth of basketball since October, so maybe on this, my 11th day, I will finally rest. Content, overjoyed, and now finally at peace. I’d say I could die now, but these fellas have given me so much to live for. We have made it to the mountaintop, and the orange and blue view is absolutely spectacular.
I have two adopted cities where I have lived in my life, the first is Raleigh, NC, and the second is NYC. Both won this past weekend, which was a pretty cool experience.
I am from Boston, so when I was in college, the Red Sox won the first championship in 80+ years, the Patriots won for the first time, and the city went on to have more success. The moment when that happens, to share such unadulterated joy with so many people simultaneously, it's a spiritual experience. That feels like I'm being sarcastic or facetious, but I'm 100% serious. I can think of no other things in this world that give such joy to so many without strings attached or costs associated.
Enjoy it! The Knicks are kings, at least until the Celtics get healthy next year. Haha.
This joy helped you connect deeper with your teenage son. this is enough :) you have no idea how lucky you are...