Appreciating a Title in Gotham City
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By Connor Buestad | Connor@Section925.com
I arrived at Therapy Wine Bar 2.0 midway through the third quarter, mainly to pay homage to the basketball wizard that is Jalen Brunson while surrounded by the people that have grown to appreciate and depend on him the most.
Brunson was in the middle of yet another legendary heater. Putting both the Knicks and eight million other NYC residents on his back and refusing to lose to the 7-foot-4 basketball unicorn that is Victor Wembanyama. Karl-Anthony Towns was of no help on this night, turning in a six foul, two point effort on the road in San Antonio. Meanwhile, Brunson floated, spun, darted, crossed and willed his way to 45 points. As the buzzer sounded, Brunson made a beeline toward the Spurs bench to shake hands with Stanford alum and rookie coach Mitch Johnson. Like a marathon runner who refuses to show fatigue as they break the tape first, Brunson seemed ready for a fifth round of playoffs if Mike Brown simply asked for it.
The bar erupted with emotion as the final seconds ticked off and Jalen Brunson’s masterpiece was officially complete. Champagne was popped, Hennessy was poured and firecrackers were immediately deployed. Buses and cop cruisers quickly turned into honking hype men while “Empire State of Mind” had the most opportune moment as a song can have.
Similar to the way Oakland unloaded with emotion when Steph Curry brought Dub Nation their first title in 40 years, Knicks faithful could hardly believe their eyes when the final buzzer sounded and the futile Knicks had finally hoisted the Larry O’Brien trophy after over half a century. “Fuck man, the Knicks actually did it, I can’t believe this shit,” explained the bartender, wet with bubbly. “Jalen Brunson. Fucking Jalen Brunson,” he continued.
Days later, at the city’s parade in Lower Manhattan, Brunson was his usual calm, cool and collected self, seemingly incapable of ever getting too high or too low. Instead, electing to just sit back and smile while he juggled carrying his daughter, the Finals MVP and the Larry O with his two hands.
James Dolan delivered a short and fairly bitter speech that you would expect from a disgruntled billionaire, while newly minted mayor Zohran Mamdani riled the crowd up with memories of Latrell Spreewell, John Starks, Charles Oakley, and many more. When it was Brunson’s turn, he had a simple message for the sea of people below him.
"Lastly, there’s a lot of people that have a lot of negative stuff to say, there’s a lot of people who have a lot of opinions," said Brunson. "But when you prove them wrong you don’t have to say shit to them. Thank you.”
It was an appropriate message from a player that is so well known for letting his play on the court speak for itself. Similar to Curry, nothing ever seems to get in the way of the respect Brunson has for the game. Underrated at every level, never dunking, consistently making the right play at the right time, seemingly never losing when it matters most.
It took forty years of long nights at the Arena in Oakland watching the likes of Adonal Foyle, Vinny Del Negro, Vonteego Cummings and Mookie Blaylock before our lord and savior Stephen Curry arrived in Oakland to turn things around. It’s hard to feel sorry for a mega city like NYC that has a franchise run by a billionaire with so many resources everywhere you look. That being said, 53 years is 53 years. You can’t fake a half century of heartbreak. You also could never predict that a 6-foot-2 second rounder would be the one to bring the Knicks back to the promised land. But here we are. You don’t have to like it, but you have to respect it.
