There’s No Place Like New York City

It's hard to explain what it's been like walking around New York City over the past two weeks. Even if the Knicks don't specifically come up, the spirits are high. Knicks gear and colors are everywhere, the people are smiling, the mayor is Muslim, the bagels are Jewish, etc. During the actual Finals games, every establishment with a TV was completely packed out, full of people losing their minds in communal celebration of the team and the city. I watched Game 2 in a Brooklyn sports bar that was so full they had to bring in a bouncer. The people were literally spilling out of these places and taking the party into the streets. I watched Game 3 from the post-operation room in a hospital after having an ablation procedure, where the Jamaican nurses in Knicks colors were losing their minds at the refs for their perceived special treatment of Victor Wembanyama. When Game 4 closed with that incredible Hand-of-God ending, I was so jacked that I ran out of my apartment and onto Nostrand Avenue just to high-five anyone I saw. I heard fireworks, honking cars, a flapping Knicks flag a fan was waving in the middle of the street, and one guy blasting the Lox Verzuz version of Who Shot Ya? It all led into Saturday and another trip into the city, Lower Manhattan this time, where within a tight radius there were multiple overfilled sports bars, a screening in the middle of a basketball court, and someone projecting the game from a truck parked on the street. For most of the night, I did not think the Knicks would wrap it up then and there. At the start of the game both teams looked tight, and even as the Spurs pulled ahead, it never looked like either team had full control. It wasn't until the Knicks tied it in the fourth that it started to feel like it would happen. My roommate, who couldn't care less about sports, had gotten swept up in the city-wide Knicks fever and desperately wanted them to finish it off, if for no other reason than to put an end to the adrenaline spikes and crashes. When it happened, and the Knicks actually became NBA champions, it was surreal. The city felt like it was exploding in ecstasy all at once, all together. The beer flowed and the fireworks popped. People sat on rooftops and hung off signposts, yelling in happiness. Weed and cigarillo smoke filled the air. For once, hearing Empire State of Mind didn't piss me off. The streets were completely overtaken, without a cop in sight. My roommate said it looked like the 2020 protests.