“I never thought I would see this.”
Michael Lortz, local author, friend, Knicks fan.
I’ve been geeking out pretty heavily to some Knicks basketball lately. From the looks of it, I’m not the only one. Tens of thousands of New Yorkers (if not more) camped out overnight before the victory parade just to catch a glimpse of their beloved team from blocks away.
New York’s post-season run was nothing short of historical, theirs is the best story the NBA has seen in years. For a league built on legacy, another has just been cemented.
The narrative that the NBA is better when the Knicks are relevant has proven itself to be true to the tune of a city beside itself with elation, blocks upon blocks of people celebrating and generations of fans finally able to exhale. Don’t believe me? Just turn on your internet or talk to anyone you know in the City.
Sure, there were some casualties along the way (Spurs jerseys torn, a Frenchman’s egos bruised) but find me another major city around the world that waited this long to celebrate a sports title, and I’ll find you some mug shots and a police force working overtime.
The countless memes, videos, articles, stories, bios, tears and texts made the internet feel three dimensional. No doomscrolling here, just a fan soaking in the energy that any native New Yorker can feel from thousands of miles away.
A hearty and well-deserved mazel tov is long overdue for any player who ever wore that uniform, cheered for anyone who did, or marveled at the historic folklore of everything that has gone down in that Garden. New Yorkers appreciate history.
But one thing I’ve noticed along the way, and perhaps this is only native to New York as it’s the only experience I know, is the measuring of one’s fanhood, the long-suffering comparison of one to another. It’d be obnoxious if it weren’t so endearing for if you read between the lines, it’s just a fan telling you how much they love their team, even if it’s more than you.
This doesn’t diminish a title, in some ways it might even elevate it, but seeing those explain their experience in this manner reminded me of my childhood in the city, where one must prove one’s dedication to a team by any means necessary, even if that means denigrating your own.
I can’t count how many clips I’ve seen from Knicks fans explaining what this title means to them, and perhaps even how it means more to them than it does to you. From random people on the street to celebrity row.
Certain things in life are, and will remain, immeasurable. The love we have for a friend or family member. The desire to achieve a lifelong dream.
And fanhood.
There is no way to accurately measure how one cares for his or her team more than anyone else, yet it’s innately part of being a fan, or at least a New York fan. Whether it can be argued that a fan who was around in 1973 and who waited over fifty years for the Knicks to raise another banner is any “more of a fan” than someone who only remembers ‘99 and the preceding Jordan beatdowns, I just don’t know. There’s no Fan-o-Meter to determine to whom it means more. Let’s just say, it’s been a while, for as BCole accurately pointed out, Saturday Night Live wasn’t even on the air the last time the Knicks won a title.
When Hank Azaria, a native New Yorker, called out Taylor Swift (she’s from a town in Pennsylvania less than three hours away) for hogging up the limelight, it’s what New Yorkers do. Sidenote: Taylor Swift is getting married soon inside Madison Square Garden so I’m pretty sure her wedding deposit was a fair trade for her comped courtside seats.
So, is Azaria wrong for calling her out or is he inescapably embracing his inner New Yorker? Or is he just pissed she had a better view? Is Swift wrong for drawing attention to herself or is it her right to use her status as she sees fit? Trust me, if I had Swift money, I’d be doing some bonkers courtside shit. Or are we wrong for even having this discussion in the first place, drawing attention away from what we just witnessed? I mean, the Knicks are NBA champions. Pinch yourself, it’s real.
Is the hats-off/pants-off dance celebration of Timothy Chalamet (born, New York City, 1995) any less sincere than the tears of Tracy Morgan (born, Bronx, New York, 1968). Probably… but why are we even asking these questions?
The Knicks championship is far-reaching enough for all within its grasp to celebrate. Walking around Tampa the morning after their title, I saw a gentleman wearing a Jeremy Lin jersey walking with his daughter, also in full Knicks attire, probably unsure of who Jeremy Lin is despite her father’s incessant rambles.
Basketball fans and Knicks fans alike, at least of my generation, were raised on grainy images of Willis Reed limping onto the court, subconsciously instilling in us the importance of playing hurt and the value of a championship. Perhaps not since Reed has the Knicks had a player or a team who embodied that same mantra. Cue Jalen Brunson.
Everyone’s relationship with the Knicks is complicated. Some run deeper than others. But there is no denying that these Knicks, now champions, symbolize the ethic and dedication of not only New York City but its fans and the long, long wait.
Regardless of how you feel about this championship, there’s no way to accurately measure how much joy it brought to the City (Answer: a fucking lot) or how long it will last (Spoiler Alert: forever).
Thanks to the 2025-26 Knicks and the city they embrace, there’s more than enough love to go around.
