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.
Walking through this parade of debauchery and wild excitement, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of love for New York City. I've wanted to live in New York since I was 7 years old. It was the city to be in if you were an artist. My favorite rappers, filmmakers, fashion designers, writers, and painters were there, the coolest skateboarders were there, the center of media was there. It seemed like the coolest place in the world.
People hate when you go on and on about what New York City means, and I can empathize. It is indeed a city full of people who think they are at the center of the universe just because they rent a tiny, expensive apartment here. But the thing is, it's basically true. There are few places in the world where every type of person, ethnicity, religion, non-religion, derangement, age, and language all gather together, all living on top of one another. It makes the culture, the feel of the place, genuinely unique.
Every thing I grew up wanting to be part of here is either gone or no longer particular to this city: Rap is global, skateboarding is mainstream, the artists have been priced out, media is over, fashion is chasing the luxury dollar. There are no scenes or local movements anymore, not really. New York isn't immune to the homogenizing effects of gentrification, and if the dream of moving to and making it in the Big Apple remains, then the realities those dreams once related to are mostly dead. But the dream is still real, as is the city's diversity, and its status as a beacon for kids from small, conservative places looking for something different and enlivening. It is a badge of honor that the Fox News crowd is still terrified of the place, and I hope that never changes.
The vibes in New York have been brighter since Mamdani took over, and now with the Knicks winning a championship, this place might as well be Disneyland. It feels good being here, which hasn't always been the case over the past few years. And although we're still waiting for rent prices to look like the vibes feel, who can argue with a good feeling? The city is built to be oppressive, as if the residents carry the weight of the skyscrapers with them in everything they do. But that also makes the highs better than anyplace else. And the highs are soaring right now. New York City is still the best, and there's nowhere else I'd rather be.
