New Yorkers celebrate as the New York Knicks defeat the San Antonio Spurs in Game 5 of the NBA Finals on Saturday, June 13, 2026.
Photo: Victor J. Blue/Bloomberg via Getty Images
Thirty-two years ago today, I stood with a million and a half of my closest friends in the Canyon of Heroes and screamed my 9-year-old lungs out in the direction of the 1994 Rangers, who days earlier had won the Stanley Cup for the first time in 54 years. That same night, I watched on TV as the Knicks (occasionally in split screen) defeated the Houston Rockets to take a 3-2 series lead in the NBA Finals. Life as a fourth-grade sports fan was good.
That spring is widely regarded as one of the greatest stretches in New York sports history — a time when the city was buzzing as two teams chased titles, taking turns in the spotlight on alternating nights. Even a child could understand that we were watching something special.
But what we’ve just witnessed as a city has topped it. The Knicks’ incredible title run, which unified the city like no sporting event before it, might just be the absolute peak of New York sports fandom — a perfect mix of circumstances that has heightened the joy of this moment and may be impossible to replicate ever again.
Over the past few weeks, New Yorkers have gathered to watch their Knicks not just at the Garden, but from bars and parks and sidewalks and at least one Brooklyn funeral home. We’ve high-fived strangers in Knicks gear and eaten blue-and-orange bagels and written Knicks-themed Billy Joel parodies. We’ve flushed our toilets as one, when it was finally safe to step away from the TV.
When game five of the NBA Finals ended and the Knicks — the Knicks! — were finally crowned champions, New Yorkers spilled out into the streets to celebrate. There was cheering and crying and Champagne and fireworks. All over the city, we sang and danced and hugged, turning New York into one enormous small town. One wondered if the party might just roll on until Thursday’s parade — the first one the city has ever thrown for the franchise. New York’s teams have combined for dozens of championships over the years, but this one was different from any of them. The city’s connection to these Knicks has been more intense than anything we’ve ever seen.
Much has been made of how the Knicks’ unique place in the New York sports scene has led to an uncommonly united city and some truly immaculate vibes. But it’s true: In a city of split allegiances, the Knicks are by far the more popular of our NBA teams, and they can command New York’s attention in a way that no other team in the big-four men’s leagues can.
The Mets and Yankees can’t unite New Yorkers like this. Neither can the Jets or Giants (though Super Bowl XLII came close, with Giants fans rooting for their team and Jets fans generally rooting against the 18-0 Patriots). There are three hockey teams in the Metropolitan area, each with fan bases that despise the other two. Leagues like the WNBA, NWSL, and MLS are growing in popularity, and while a local team in each has won a title in recent years, they don’t yet capture the city’s attention like an NBA team.
New York teams have provided no shortage of legendary moments. There’s David Tyree’s helmet catch, and Joe Namath’s guarantee. Legendary home runs by Aaron Boone, Bucky Dent, and Chris Chambliss. Bobby Thomson’s Shot Heard ‘Round the World, and Don Larsen’s perfect game. Stephane Matteau’s double-overtime winner, and Mookie Wilson’s slow roller up first. But the city has never reacted to a moment with a collective freak-out like it did when OG Anunoby’s tip-in won game four or when the final seconds ticked off the clock in the clinching game five. It’s enough to make you a little bit jealous of cities like Philadelphia and Boston, which experience this type of unified citywide rooting interest every season for each of their teams (but just a little bit jealous).
The Knicks’ glory years in the early ’70s came during a time when the NBA wasn’t nearly as ubiquitous as it is today. When Willis Reed came out of the Madison Square Garden tunnel in game seven in 1970, most New Yorkers had to watch the game on a tape delay. No one was projecting games on the sides of buildings back then.
All of which is to say, the city has been primed for decades to explode in the event of a Knicks championship, and what a championship it was. It’s not just that the Knicks are great; it’s that these particular Knicks are great and that they shed this much historical baggage. Everything lined up perfectly to deliver maximum excitement: The 2026 Knicks gave us one of the most dominant postseason runs of all-time, with just enough adversity to make it interesting, featuring a deeply likable roster fueled by the power of friendship. Knicks fans had been desperate for a title, and boy have we earned this.
My first memory as a Knicks fan came on June 2, 1993, when forward Charles Smith famously failed in his attempt to lay the ball in late in game five of the Eastern Conference Finals against the Bulls. My second memory as a Knicks fan came a moment later, when Smith failed in his second layup attempt. My third and fourth memories immediately followed with Smith having the same result. The Knicks made me cry that night. I was hooked for life.
Calling this a 53-year drought might undersell how much Knicks fans have suffered over that time. When the Knicks were good, something would always derail their season in a cruelly Knicksian way: John Starks’s 2-for-18 game sevenagainst the Rockets in 1994, or Reggie Miller’s eight points in 8.9 seconds in 1995, or Patrick Ewing’s missed finger roll later in that same series.
And when the Knicks were bad, they were so bad. They gave out inexcusable contracts and made bad trades. They cycled through coaches and executives, each seemingly with his own drama. They spent years maneuvering to sign a player who ultimately wanted to go elsewhere. And they made news off the court that could be far worse than anything they did on it. The game-five win on Saturday night was all the sweeter for the pain that came before it. If the Knicks repeat as champs next year, that would rule, obviously, but it wouldn’t be the same. I’m not sure anything ever could be.
One user on X commented that game four of the Finals was like the entire Knicks history condensed into one night, and he’s correct. The wild turns, the heroes and villains, the pain and the joy and the subplots to the subplots — it was all right there. Josh Hart’s missed layup could have been next in the long line of disastrous playoff moments. Instead, we got the single greatest shot in Knicks history. Game four, somehow, had a happy ending, and finally, so did a Knicks season. We got the moment of exultation that has been dangling in front of us for longer than I’ve been alive — and we got to share it with all of our neighbors, not just the ones who cheer for the same clothes we do.
The Knicks — the New York Knicks! — finally did it. It was all worth it. Next year finally came.
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