As a lifelong Knicks fan who has spent the last decade allowing myself to be convinced that the likes of Antonio McDyess, Stephon Marbury, Steve Francis, Penny Hardaway, Eddy Curry, Zach Randolph, Malik Rose, Don Chaney, Larry Brown, and Isiah Thomas could contribute to a competitive Knicks team, it’s incredibly rewarding to watch the current squad putting up big numbers in the win column.
The arrival of Amar’e Stoudemire brought credibility and, more importantly, Carmelo Anthony to the franchise. In recent days, the Knicks have locked up their first playoff berth since 2004 and first winning season since 1999. The team is star-studded, fun to watch, and plays with an unreal amount of confidence. But as much as I love the current Knicks team and their collective swagger, their success reminds me that the bunch which shocked the world and made the NBA Finals as an eight-seed in 1999 will always hold a uniquely special place in my heart.
Any good sports fan from the New York area can rattle off the names: stars like Allan Houston, Marcus Camby, Larry Johnson, and Patrick Ewing, all the way down to clumsy backup center Chris Dudley and 12th man/assistant coach Herb Williams. The scrappy crew, guided by head coach Jeff Van Gundy, was personified by their small forward, one of the most hated players in the NBA, Latrell Sprewell. As a 9-year-old, I loved to cheer for Sprewell because of his dynamic offense, relentless defense, and winner-take-all attitude. No one dove for a loose ball with more intensity, and when he fouled someone, they stayed fouled.
The Knicks managed to acquire Sprewell for 50 cents on the dollar from the Golden State Warriors because he had attempted to strangle his head coach during practice. Unsurprisingly, he became a constant source of debate in my family, with my grandfather insisting he was a “bum” (mostly because of the aforementioned strangling incident) and me delighting in pushing his buttons by wearing Sprewell’s jersey around and singing his praises whenever possible. It was my first small act of rebellion and defiance against my father and grandfather.
The intensity of Sprewell’s effort, particularly on the defensive end, eventually won him some grudging respect from the older males in my family, which I, of course, counted as a huge victory. Houston was the Knicks’ top scoring threat, Camby anchored the defense, Ewing was a living legend still in the tail end of his prime, Johnson was the go-to guy in the clutch, but Sprewell was my favorite because his attitude and intensity made what the other guys did matter. I looked up to Latrell because even though I would never be able to shoot like Houston, rebound like Johnson, or dominate the paint like Camby, I could always emulate Spree, making sure to be the first one back on defense and putting in 100 percent effort on both sides of the ball.
As the Knicks begin their playoff run, I am not expecting the same result as in 1999. Most Knicks fans would be thrilled with a competitive first round series against the experienced and talented Celtics, knowing that our team will continue to improve over the next several years. For the first time in a decade, a championship, which has eluded Madison Square Garden since 1973, appears possible in the not-too-distant future.
Nonetheless, I still believe it is possible that 10 years from now, someone who’s now in fourth grade will be writing an article for his college paper on how Stoudemire, Anthony, Landry Fields, Chauncey Billups, and the rest of the 2011 Knicks helped define a moment in his adolescence with their improbable run to the NBA championship. It would certainly memorialize a part of my college experience. That is what sports is all about, and it’s why Knicks fans like myself have suffered through the last decade and not given up on the team through one losing season and embarrassing scandal after another. As the great poet (and Knicks fan) 50 Cent once said, “Sunny days wouldn’t be special if it wasn’t for rain.”
