Lower Manhattan: New York Knicks 2026 NBA World Championship Ticker Tape Parade 6/18/26: To be honest, it was a wild clusterfuck. By the time, I got downtown at 8, the parade route had reportedly reached capacity at 7:30. And trains were forced to bypass most of the stations below Canal Street because of overcrowding. (For you non-New Yorkers, that’s a good mile and a half north of the parade route.)
A wild adventure ensued to get to Broadway near Trinity Church. The morning was a clusterfuck of misinformation and miscommunication: There was a press area but I had no idea where it was until I got to the parade. It turned out to be 5 or 6 blocks south of me. I wouldn’t have been able to even get to where the press area was with all the rerouting. Oh well.
This city loves the Knicks. And despite all the things that went wrong, it was mostly a joyous and celebratory occasion with what seemed to be 5 million of my neighbors and friends.
And if you were wondering, my dad was a lifelong Knick fan. My mom was a Knick fan until the terrible 2000s. I watched a lot of Knicks games as a boy: My second time at the Garden was during the Rick Pitino, Patrick Ewing, Mark Jackson and Bill Cartwright-era Knicks. My fandom at best wavered. Mom and I got into the Nets a bit because of our hatred of Dolan. The Yankees however, that was my deepest, most profound sports love.
This playoff run, I thought a lot of my father. He was a messy, complicated, difficult, fuck up of a person, a disappointment when it mattered. I found myself saying to folks “These Knicks ain’t my daddy’s Knicks.”
But man, he would love this Knick team. Dad, you old drunken fool, they fucking did it.
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