The Knicks Finally Won, and I Couldn't Care Less

"It was 1968, and Mickey Mantle retired, and I didn't give a fuck." – A Bronx Tale

As a native New Yorker who has lived here for fifty years, I’ve seen few things galvanize the city like the Knicks winning the NBA championship a week and a half ago. The Mets in 86 had us all glued to the television. Same for the Subway Series. Sports bring communities together.

And in a city like this one, it can feel like everyone is living on their own island. There are all kinds of divisions, from racial to socioeconomic. Being part of a collective can be rare. Most of us don’t even know our neighbors anymore.

But when your city’s beloved basketball team hasn’t won in fifty-four years, three generations of fans will be salivating for a championship. While the Jets still haven’t tasted victory since 1969, the Knicks finally put an end to their losing streak and the pain of their loyalists.

Sports fascinate me. I’m not a fan anymore (except for mixed martial arts), but as a child I watched SportsCenter religiously and didn’t miss a Yankees game. Today, I marvel at the devotion some people have to their team. Their tribe.

Grown men walk around with the name of another man on their shirts. Millionaire athletes are idolized for their abilities. We dream we could be them.

Fans live and die by their teams. A win is glorious while a loss is soul-crushing. I can still remember game 6 of the 86 Mets series, when the team was one out away from losing it all and a ground ball went through Bill Buckner’s legs to give the Mets the win. The moment before the error was like the world was teetering on the brink.

That emotional investment is part of the reason I stopped following sports. I didn’t want to feel so much over a game that had no impact on my life. The success or failure of a team has nothing to do with me.

Besides that, I began to see all sports as a poor simulation of fighting. Rather than watch a simulation, I’d rather see the real thing. Combat sports have bigger consequences, making the stakes higher. But a lack of emotional attachment also lets me root for the best technique and game plan rather than whoever is my favorite.

Maybe if I’d grown up with a family of sports lovers, things would be different, but Dad only ever watched boxing, and my older brother wasn’t into any sports except handball. Teams are often handed down through the generations. Chances are you’ll be a fan of the same team as your father.

I cared so little about the NBA this year that I didn’t watch a single play. I only know that Brunson is one of the Knicks because my daughter’s principal mentioned him at graduation. I know nothing else about the team.

By the time the NBA finals rolled around, I felt like I was being left out of the excitement. The day of the last game, I didn’t even know they were playing. That night, car horns blared and drivers were doing donuts outside our window. I wondered why everyone was being so rowdy. The next morning, I realized the Knicks had won the title.

My immediate thought was that no one invited me to watch. I wondered if people didn’t want to be friends with me, or if I’d offended so many people that I had no friends left. Sure, I didn’t care about the game, but it would have been nice to have been asked.

I’ve gone to Super Bowl parties when I didn’t care about the game. The Knicks’ win was so monumentous that it’s all anyone was talking about. Yet I was iced out.

Did I miss an opportunity to bond with my fellow New Yorkers? Would following the team have been fun? Am I missing the point of sports?

I was on a baseball team when I was 12 years old. That same year, I started lifting weights. I quickly got into bodybuilding for competition and left team sports and overbearing coaches behind. But it wasn’t until my interest in fighting piqued that I stopped watching games.

Sure, two fight fans can be cheering for the same athlete, but it’s not the same as cheering on your local team. In your mind, that team represents you. They are your avatars. The things you only dream of doing, they are accomplishing. You live through them.

The championship team epitomizes group effort and what people can do when they come together. It offers inspiration to anyone hungry to be part of something bigger.

Maybe I don’t have that hunger. I’ve never been one to follow the crowd. I don’t keep up with pop culture. I’m not up on the latest gossip. I don’t care to be part of the current fad.

And let’s face it, for most of the “fans” who came out of the woodwork, this year’s NBA finals were the first they’d ever watched. Brand new jerseys and caps were out in full force the day after the Knicks’ victory.

The die-hard who stuck around over the last fifty years must feel a certain way about that. They probably feel the team is really theirs. They might resent the newbies.

I think that might be part of the reason I didn’t jump on board. I didn’t want to pretend while sitting around watching the game with people who have suffered through the losing years. I thought I might sully the experience for them.

With the FIFA World Cup in town, I’ve got another opportunity to get on the bandwagon with Team USA. Soccer fans are probably the most rabid in the world, and it might be a fun experience to take in some games with a group. I can get some bonding in. The problem is that I care about soccer even less than I do about basketball.

My heart used to break when the Yankees would lose. I’d get depressed. I’d check the standings every day and count how many games they needed to win to jump ahead. My mood would be dictated by how my team was doing.

Today, no team, athlete, or game has such control over me. I root for the best, most entertaining contest, no matter who loses.

When you view sports this way, you can enjoy any outcome, as long as the game was fun. Admiring the talent and skill of an athlete can be independent of what jersey he’s wearing. Teamwork is necessary in life, but picking a side to pledge blind loyalty to is a lot to ask of some people. Not everyone is built that way.

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