New York City
The large man was dressed in a suit in unseasonably sticky 90-degree weather. He had an ear piece, a badge, and a walkie-talkie – and also a bit of wisdom for those who doubted Jalen Brunson and the New York Knicks on Tuesday.
He was, quite clearly, some sort of security official, the kind associated with a classy establishment like The World’s Most Famous Arena. And, crucially, he was standing on the desirable side of a crowd-control barricade, although he was stoically facing away from the source of increasingly giddy revelry.
Inside – which is to say, some hundred or so yards from here, at the center of the city block that had become a pulsating sea of blue and orange – the New York Knicks were in the midst of a stunning comeback to snag Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Finals. But out on the sweaty sidewalks, crowds clamored, craned and crawled all over each other for a glimpse – not of the action itself, but of a screen erected precisely for the purpose of bringing the basketball to people who couldn’t afford the historic ticket prices.
They didn’t have to pay a penny to join the official watch party. But to get close to the virtual action, they had to have something else to spare, as the security guard reminded them in those fateful fourth-quarter minutes.
“You should have had faith,” the security official pronounced dispassionately to the desperate throngs who had departed the watch party as the Knicks fell behind by 22 points, right before a furious comeback led to a win in the opening game of the Eastern Conference Finals.
A harsh indictment. There would be no overtime exemptions. The faithless would remain on the outside, left to ride the contact of high of those closer to the screens (and anything else they were smoking).
The watch party outside MSG is a strange psychological and physiological gauntlet of fandom. The space is highly controlled – temporary metal barricades build a maze of bullpens patrolled by a heavy police presence – but free to enter starting an hour-and-a-half before tip-off. No alcohol allowed, but entrepreneurs just outside the perimeter hawk primary-colored homemade concoctions in nondescript plastic bottles. (Sample flavor: Blue Hawaii.)
There are two large screens in the center facing opposite ends of the block. Hype teams distribute the Thunder Stick-esque inflatables to wave inside the area to distract the visiting Cavalier during free throws. But energy itself – raucous, coordinated and diligently trained on every shot – seems largely spontaneous and self-generated.
The catch, at least as far as I could tell on high-demand nights like Tuesday, is that once you leave, you cannot return. (And, I suppose, you cannot enter at all after a certain point – unless the NYPD officers stationed at the entry abd exit ways have photographic memory for faces.)
There is very little access to food, water, or restrooms inside the corralled areas of the watch party. Determined to hydrate in the heat, some friends of mine resorted to spending $50 on large glass bottles of Saratoga water from an upscale sushi and steakhouse that happened to be accessible from their segment of the partitioned area.
But the biological concerns didn’t seem to have been the primary driver behind abandoning a primo spot on Tuesday night. The culprit there was the Knicks’ sloppy play to start Game 1.
At 7:25 p.m., one of the midtown office workers descending into the subway at Penn Station shouted, Go Knicks! at the jersey-clad crowd arriving for the evening.
Aight! someone in blue-and-orange offered back.
The acknowledgement was easy and assured, eagerly anticipating, but unbothered by, the task at hand. The Knicks were coming off a nine-day break between series after sweeping the 76ers to cap a historically dominant run through the first two rounds of the playoffs.
Knicks fans take over Philadelphia
The New York Knicks basketball team’s fans took over Philadelphia during Game 4 of the Eastern Conference semifinals, and they made their presence very known as the Knicks finished the 76ers off with a sweep. CNN’s Don Riddell reports.
The postseason offense, now run through Karl-Anthony Towns, was clicking. Maybe head coach Mike Brown had fixed the Knicks after all. A handful of blowout wins had given the beleaguered fanbase something that has been hard to come by rooting for a franchise that last won a championship in 1973 and hasn’t played in the finals this century: confidence. New Yorkers expected to beat the Cleveland Cavaliers.
Expectations are a dangerous thing for Knicks fans to have.
Perhaps the long layoff between series led to some rust. As the first half wound down, the Knicks were trailing by just two points, but the mood within the watch party was starting to sour.
“Welcome to my reality. F**king dump,” announced one older Knicks fan to no one in particular, after rattling off a fandom resume that featured decades of disenchantment.
The game got worse from there.
With just under eight minutes remaining in the fourth quarter, the Knicks were trailing 93-71, and the Cavs had a virtual lock on the game – a 99.9% chance of winning, according to ESPN Analytics. It was around then that hordes of fans started streaming out of the watch party. Knicks in five! A few people chanted, optimistic on the whole but realistic about the evening’s events.
It was also around then that Brunson took off on a heroic tear. Fans loitering just outside the barricade started to sense something was changing. They couldn’t see the big screen because a couple of conspicuous trees blocked the view, but the scores started to ripple through the crowd like rumors.
Dozens of fans flocked to where they had recently exited and began rattling the barricade and beseeching the NYPD officers to let them back in. They begged and offered bribes, much to the bemusement of officers, who wouldn’t budge.
“Next time, don’t be so quick,” chided one policewoman.
“No, no, no! We waited ‘til the fourth quarter!” one fan explained, hoping his resilience through the first three disappointing quarters – not to mention his entire life until this point – would soften her stance.
It didn’t.
The Knicks won. The climactic tension of the fourth quarter gave way to an easy overtime, with New York out-scoring Cleveland 14-3. Over the final 12:49 of game time, Brunson himself outscored the entire Cavaliers team.
The fans on the outside probably didn’t know that or any other specific stat, but it didn’t matter. By the time the game ended, they were drunk on the proximity to so many people riding the same emotional roller coaster (and maybe Blue Hawaii?). The ecstasy was not diluted as it undulated outward from those closest to the screens. If anything, it was amplified.
Refracted through the reactions of other fans, it became bigger and louder. Someone would start a cheer, others would join in, and the commotion would attract a new wave of attention, phones open to streaming apps, the entire scene straddling the line between performance and audience.
We want Wemby! The crowd began chanting, a taunting reference to Victor Wembanyama, the star of the San Antonio Spurs, whom the Knicks could face in the NBA Finals, if they win another three games against the Cavaliers, and if the Spurs knock out the defending champion, Oklahoma City Thunder in their series.
The confidence was back, bolstered by a heady evening spent emotionally one-upping one another. This time, perhaps, faith would follow.
