This doesn’t feel real.
All New York Knicks fans have known for the last 53 years is heartbreak and humiliation. We were cursed. Jordan. Starks’ 2-18 in Game 7. Reggie. Ewing going down. Missing out on Steph by one pick. Rebuffing Jeremy Lin. Phil Jackson. Amar’e’s knees. The Unicorn jumping ship. The Zion draft. Tyrese Haliburton. The worst owner (not named Woody Johnson) in professional sports.
Things got so bad during the 2010s that it’s become a running joke among Knicks fans to try to so much as name members of the team. Mario Hezonja. Louis Amundson. Langston Galloway. Andrea Bargnani.
Tonight, the New York Knicks won their first NBA title in 53 years over Victor Wembanyama, the most freakishly-gifted basketball player maybe ever. I am 41 years old and have bled orange and blue my whole life. I never thought this would happen.
And the way it happened.
Led by Jalen Brunson, an undersized guard who’s been counted out his entire career; who ran around the Knicks’ locker room as a toddler; whose own father rode the pine during the Knicks’ ’99 Finals loss, also a five-game series against the Spurs, before coaching his son to victory; who won the title alongside his NCAA Championship-winning teammates, Josh Hart and Mikal Bridges; who scored 45 of the Knicks’ 94 points in the deciding game; who sacrificed $113 million for the team; whose will and determination was infectious; who just became the greatest New York Knick ever.
“I’ve got no words,” Brunson muttered after winning it all. “It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
The author and his sister in the ’90s.
Irena Choi Stern
New York City has been through a lot. 9/11. The COVID epicenter. That “Gossip Girl” reboot. This is a resilient city, and a resilient team, down but never out. They fought back in every game this series, including the greatest comeback in NBA Finals history. They even overcame Donald Trump, who broke the team’s 13-game playoff win streak, and has never met a vibe he didn’t ruin.
It’s hard to describe the energy in the city this past month. Fire trucks honking. Strangers hugging and high-fiving in the streets. Skyscrapers lit up in orange and blue. Watch parties left and right. New York City has never been more united in jubilation. I’m reminded of “Waterloo,” the Apollo 11 moon landing episode of “Mad Men,” where the camera pans to people across the city gathered in front of screens, gazing in awe.
Seeing Jalen Brunson embrace his father after their shared triumph brought tears to my eyes. It triggered a Proustian flashback, reminding me of my dad and all the times we spent watching the Knicks together. I cherished those times. When your father works in New York City, he works long hours. You don’t get to spend as much time together as you’d like. Knicks games became our special time where we were fully aligned, in service of a common cause. I wasn’t able to watch the Knicks win the title with my dad tonight, but he called me after and I couldn’t help but cry. We finally did it. This was for us, and you, and all of New York City.
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