The Knicks Represent the Best of New York Sports

There is, for me, an out-of-time quality to the recent string of crazy, wonderful Knicks playoff games. I find myself lying awake night after night reviewing jump shots made, fouls committed, and shots blocked, always anxious for what lies ahead. Half a century ago, this routine had a certain age-appropriate insanity to it. Now, though, I’m on the distinctly long side of middle age, yet here I am, fitfully trying to sleep and clearing my calendar for each game night as if for a devotional event.I’m aware that New York City has fine baseball—I am on a Mets sabbatical until the Knicks run is complete—as well as hockey and soccer. No doubt there are badminton teams of note. But sorry (except not really): Our city game is hoops, and after their prolonged stay in purgatory, the Knicks are back, and playing a beautiful style that long ago seemed our birthright. As the championship series between my Knicks and the San Antonio Spurs commences tonight, I find myself wondering if, maybe, just perhaps, we’ll finally recapture the NBA title. And then I wonder if I’ve committed a karmic crime by even typing such words.I grew up on the Upper West Side in the 1960s and ’70s, at a time when basketball was practically in the air and water. Walt “Clyde” Frazier and his custom Rolls-Royce spotted slow-riding down Broadway? My friends and I set off running. John Gianelli, a gangly and obscure Knicks backup center, once stopped by the 77th Street courts and took a few jump shots, and we asked him to sign our basketballs. I worked the register at a bohemian bookshop as a teenager, and one winter afternoon, Earl “The Pearl” Monroe, that whirling dervish of a guard, strolled in with the most beautiful woman in the world on his arm. As they turned to leave, I managed to croak out a whisper: “Good luck tonight, Earl.” He turned and gave me a fist salute. I nearly passed out.[Read: Adam Silver goes to war]In high school, my friends and I became subway wayfarers, traveling in search of great h