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The Knicks reminded New Yorkers how to hang out
By
Hannah Frishberg
Published Jun 18, 2026
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Jeremy Weine/Getty Images
By
Hannah Frishberg
Published Jun 18, 2026
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We live in a historically lonely era. Recent decades have seen Americans lose faith in God, country, and one another. We’re polarized, barely know our neighbors, and are in a dire friendship recession. Even the monoculture has fragmented. In New York City, rents are up, expendable income is down, and bars and restaurants are struggling.
Gotham’s civic spaces have felt almost suburban in recent years, transformed from communal town squares into mere points on the way to the next destination in our parallel, personal, atomized worlds. One of my favorite parts of growing up in Brooklyn was having so many interesting strangers to talk to, but these days folks wear over-the-ear headphones in public and stare at their screens as they walk down the street. I still talk to strangers but, increasingly, many are beyond the reach of my passing chatter.
So the explosion of public elation and interaction this past month threw me. The Knicks had suddenly brought back hanging out, being outside, appointment television, and a shared hope in the same thing! By Game 3, even my sports-averse heart had boarded the bandwagon, hoping that maybe spontaneously socializing as a largely well-meaning mob might heal the societal fabric by helping New York’s most terminally online touch a little grass (or, in the city’s case, pavement) and remember how to party IRL.
And party New York did. Buoyed by the raw energy of genuinely long-suffering Knicks fans, streets became a living room, a stage, a dance hall. Building walls were suddenly public screens. Where pedestrians previously avoided eye contact, now they cheered “Knicks in 5” at each other as though it were a replacement for all language. The fragmented lives of New Yorkers had been momentarily reattached thanks to the NBA. And then, my God, we won.
A large group of people ran in circles around the Washington Square Park fountain. Grown men of the traditionally masculine variety openly wept. The entire city seemed to be rapturously swaying together, singing along to “Empire State of Mind.” The record-breaking ticker-tape parade was euphoric, a celebration 53 years in the making for the real heads, and a jubilant reason to congregate for the rest of us. At the ticker tape parade celebrating the win, despite a potentially dangerous crush of people, the antics stayed generally impish, the atmosphere oddly serene. Confetti floated from the Canyon of Heroes to the surrounding blocks, where the thousands who hadn't made it past the barricades climbed atop barricades and subway globes, trying to catch a glimpse of the team, or simply remain in proximity to the event. Happy screams rose from all around and echoed off the skyscrapers.
As time marches forward from last weekend’s legendary championship win, the hubbub will die down. But the feeling doesn’t have to. Remember that the people you partied with live here among you. You don’t need the Knicks or thousands of people to weird dance with randos, play your bagpipes for the block, or talk to your neighbor.
Tagged
Existing in New York City
sports
Hannah Frishberg
Hannah Frishberg covers New York City arts and culture. Got a tip? Email Hannah at [email protected].
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Gothamist is funded by sponsors and member donations
Gothamist is funded by sponsors and member donations
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