53 years. 23 head coaches. Countless moments of absolute tragedy and almost triumph. But at long last, the New York Knickerbockers are back on top of the basketball world.
In 1973, the last time the Knicks hoisted the Larry O’Brien trophy, it wasn’t even called the Larry O’Brien trophy. The team was led by Red Holzman, the winningest coach in franchise history. Alongside the retired jerseys of the heroes of that bygone era—Bradley, DeBusschere, Frazier, Monroe and Reed—Holzman’s 613 victories are immortalized with a banner in the rafters of Madison Square Garden.
On route to this third title (the first was in 1970), the Knicks went an improbable 16-3 and clinched it on June 13 (6/13). Coincidence? Black magic? A numerical prank pulled by the basketball gods to make the sport’s most quixotic fanbase question reality itself?
None of the above. It’s bigger than all that.
A Team of Champions
To say these newest Knicks, these latter-day legends, have recaptured the former glory of the early-1970s era players would be an understatement. Not only do they represent the five boroughs in a way that seems comedic, but also their respective basketball journeys and collective way offers a timely lesson for the entire country.
In a wildly popular professional sports league riddled with small cracks that often fuel its loudest arguments—tanking, load management, flopping, titanic salaries—the 2026 Knicks are an outlier. For instance, Jalen Brunson, the captain and top scorer, took a $113 million pay cut to put this team together (another win for socialism in the financial capital of the Western world).
Unlike their Finals opponent, the San Antonio Spurs, a franchise with a dynamic young core built by so many lucky bounces of the lottery ball, these Knicks, like their hometown, are an island of misfits.
With the exception of Mitchell Robinson, the franchise’s longest-tenured member—a monster truck building, gun-collecting, country-strong rebound machine—every Knick who made an impact on their Finals victory was, before making it to The Mecca, a kind of basketball refugee.
The mass migration that led to the ultimate miracle starts at the top, with Brunsen, the guard who went on to become Finals MVP.
He won in high school and he won in college, capturing two NCAA titles with Villanova. Typically, a player with that kind of pedigree would be, if not a surefire lottery pick, a definite first-rounder. But the diminutive “unathletic” guard was viewed as a big risk. He fell to the second round. And then, after being rewarded for a star turn in the playoffs with a paltry offer to stay on with the Dallas Mavericks, he fell into New York's lap.
Since signing with the Knicks—a robbery on par with the purchase of Manhattan itself—Brunson has been nothing short of spectacular. The 6’2’’ Brunson’s uncanny playing style is a mirror of New York City’s indomitable engine—a subway car moving endlessly through the bedrock, beneath so many skyscrapers.
The captain’s supporting cast bears their own resemblance to the City's most cherished institutions, too.
Karl-Anthony Towns. A former number one overall pick and oft-maligned big man of Dominican descent acquired via trade from Minnesota, Towns transformed his game and reputation over the course of the title run. He became, like one of his many nicknames, “The Big Bodega,” a dependable source of a little bit of everything every night.
OG Anunoby. The British-Nigerian injury-plagued introvert acquired via trade from Toronto has now etched himself into eternity with the great tip-in at the last second.
José Alvarado. Born and raised in Brooklyn, and acquired via trade from New Orleans, the pesky Nuyorican had fallen entirely out of the rotation before he turned the tides in game 4’s historic comeback with big minutes and bigger shots.
Landry Shamet. Finding himself playing on his eighth team in as many seasons and looking like the illegitimate son of John Turturro’s character in Do the Right Thing, the do-it-all combo-guard capped off an improbable postseason shooting spree with a clutch layup in the closing minutes of the deciding game.
And last, but certainly not least, Brunson’s Villanova running mates, Josh Hart and Mikal Bridges. Before he joined the Knicks from Portland, Hart struggled to find a home in the league. In New York, the scowling Swiss army knife quickly became a fan favorite.
Of all the now-redeemed roundball immigrants who got this team over the top, none have had as bumpy a ride as Mikal Bridges. The Knicks gave up a king’s ransom of five first-round picks to pluck Bridges from NBA purgatory in Brooklyn. After putting up zero points in 21 minutes in the Knicks one-point loss to the Hawks in round 1, the NBA’s ironman (709 consecutive games played) responded by shooting the leather off the ball during the team’s next eleven wins.
An American Ideal
“Jalen Brunson is the epitome of what we claim America is all about: sheer will and hard work bring you to the top.” This sentiment, shared with me by a Bronx public school teacher, seemed apt, especially in this year of the nation’s 250th. For decades, the Knicks lost sight of what made them champions in the first place, and in the process, they paid the price. They became a punchline and a punching bag. Their fans became the tired and poor huddled masses of the sporting world.
But now, powered by the cagey zeal of the game’s ultimate underdog and the indefatigable determination of so many talented castaways, the Garden is Eden once again. We just had to get back to our roots.