Perhaps you’ve heard: the New York Knicks are in the NBA Finals.
It’s the first time since 1999, when they lost to the same team they’re playing this year: the San Antonio Spurs. Standing outside Governor’s Tavern in Hudson, a little before tip-off for Game 3, Theodore Pappas pressed his hands together in prayer position. He’s been watching the Knicks since he was a little kid. He’s dealt with decades of futility and dashed hopes. He knows a lot people got sick of Knicks basketball, and many of them tuned out. "I feel that a lot of the New Yorkers, you know, fell asleep, basically," he told me. "And now, they’ve basically woken up again."
But what have they woken up to?
Yes, a balanced squad that won almost 65% of its games during the regular season. Yes, a roster that seems happy sharing the spotlight, that isn’t defined by any single contributor, that had put together a run of thirteen straight postseason victories leading up to Game 3. A scrappy pack of underdogs that had dribbled its way to a commanding series lead over the Spurs, who were heavily favored leading in to the Finals.
But the Knicks also play in America in 2026. And that reality wasn’t far from people's minds at Governor’s Tavern.
"I think we're all expressing a lot of emotions through this that aren't exactly all 100% about basketball," said Gambrel Foster. Foster doesn't normally follow the Knicks. But she was at the bar because it made her feel better about other things. Things she’s sick of following. "I think there's a lot wrapped up right now between the Knicks and politics."
A few blocks away, at Return Brewing, Jordan Cozza agreed. "I mean, frankly, I think our political climate is kind of a mess right now."
As we spoke, Avery Wilson began singing the national anthem on the TV broadcast. President Trump appeared on screen, smirking and giving a salute. The crowd at the brewery began booing loudly. "I think that about sums it up right there," said Cozza.
Seated at a couch in the corner, Lloyd Koedding had one eye on the game as he sorted through a stack of envelopes in his lap. He was getting his paperwork together to enter the county supervisor race for Hudson’s third ward.
Koedding didn’t like that people were booing the president. He ran for mayor last year as a Republican, but this year, he’s running as a Democrat. He told me his true affiliation is a political party he created himself. "I created the Harmony Party, and the harmony party is be good, do good, fix yourself first, feel with your heart, let your light shine, then you become the 'you' you always wanted to be. And we all live in harmony."
If that sounds far-fetched in these divisive times, consider the perspective of Leslie Brock. She normally roots for the Celtics. Last night, she was pulling for the Knicks.
I’ve done sports coverage for many years, and I haven’t met many Boston fans who wish New Yorkers anything but gloom and suffering. But last night, I met Leslie. "I think there's something so beautiful about the collective energy and environment," she gushed. "In this kind of crazy time that we're in, it separates things. It goes beyond all partisan lines, dividing lines."
Back at Governor's Tavern, at a rowdy table, a woman named Anna put it more bluntly. The Knicks playoff run, she said, had helped her get back in touch with her identity. "It's like…it's like euphoric. I've never felt more entitled in my life. I, like, want to kill everybody who's not a New Yorker."
But lest you misunderstand: Anna actually welcomes newcomers aboard the Knicks bandwagon. She just wants you to know: she was there first. "This is my home, it's always been my home, like born, raised, everything for generations and generations. So I might want to kill you, but also I'll probably embrace you too."
As the game went on, the crowd was forced to embrace a similar complexity of emotions. Though the Knicks briefly pulled ahead, they trailed for most of the night. They pulled within four points with seconds to play, but couldn’t complete the comeback. I heard a few scattered hands slam table-tops.
But the overwhelming sense was expressed by the guy behind me who tossed back the last of his beer and shouted, “Who cares? Knicks in 5, baby!”
Or, as Theodore Pappas put it: "We feel connected again, now. We feel like it’s our time again. Because we’ve been asleep, basically, for all these years."
