NEW YORK CITY — The people of New York are dreamers. It is almost a prerequisite to living here. Willingly putting yourself among this mass of humanity, numbering over eight million at last count in (at best) the second-most expensive city in the country, requires a deeply held, even irrational belief that destiny is a tangible object to be grabbed with both hands. In many ways such belief is the only way to survive the grinding, unforgiving process of carving out a life in the five boroughs.
This is why the Knicks are so special to New Yorkers. For decades, the team has represented a blank canvas upon which they could project the highest highs their imaginations could muster. And for many of those decades, the Knicks let them down. Fell short in gut-wrenching ways. Failed to spectacular degrees. But their fans continued to dream anyway—because around these parts, when you get knocked down, the only option is to get back up again. It was a cycle that became habit for most of this century as disappointment reigned year over year.
