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Photo: Alex Kent

It was agony and ecstasy outside Madison Square Garden on Thursday night, before game five in the Eastern Conference Finals against the loathed Indiana Pacers. The Knicks went into the evening facing elimination, down three games to one. The operators of a video-camera setup invited fans to record derisive videos about Tyrese Haliburton, currently Public Enemy No. 1 in the five boroughs. (Or at least on Seventh Avenue.) A fan with face tats was recording himself strutting south, attracting a parade of flexing, cheering bros. “Dax is right; there’s so many people smoking weed,” a suit blurted into his phone.

The Knicks were so bad for so long that in 2022, when the team won one first-round game against the Atlanta Hawks, fans acted like they’d taken home the Larry O’Brien Trophy. Since then, they’ve increasingly dared to hope, and this season’s mania especially calls back to the 1990s, when the Patrick Ewing–John Starks squads captured the city’s id. That the franchise could maybe make it to the Finals — well, it could at least erase the memory of Pacers center Roy Hibbert’s smothering block of Carmelo Anthony in 2013. Bigger venues had to be found for watch parties, some now held in Central Park. A mildly disgusting TikTok trend had fans slugging shots of honey. On StubHub, the starting price for game one of the Pacers series was $878. Timothée Chalamet has been at every game, home and away, keeping up with Spike Lee.

Across the street from the Garden, David Berger and Josh Hill were lingering. “I made a very financially irresponsible decision to be here tonight for this,” said Hill, who’d spent $1,100 to fly in from London the night before. “It’s that kind of New York Knick stupidity.” Added Berger, “if you told me the Knicks were gonna host the Conference Finals, I would’ve been like, That’s unheard of. It’s not ideal that it’s 3-1. I’m realistic. I’m not a crazy person. But I don’t think it’s that far-fetched.” Over by the barricades, John and Terry Angelo were discussing when the old Garden was torn down. It was 1969, four years before the Knicks last won a championship. “I’ve been a Knicks fan ever since Walt ‘Clyde’ Frazier, and I was at that Finals game when he scored 30-something points,” John said wistfully.

By halftime, when the Knicks led 56-45, some fans streamed out of Stout, the West 33rd Street bar hosting a watch party. “I feel good, but the thing with the Knicks is, man, they never just let you enjoy a basketball game. You’re always just sweating it out till the very end,” Nico Tobon said. “I’ve been a Knicks fan my whole life, I’m used to pain.”

Not tonight, though. Fans looked for something to latch their anxiety to (Karl-Anthony Towns sitting after his fourth foul), but it never materialized. The DJ played “Sandstorm”; a Josh Hart rebound provoked a “We’re not worthy” gesture from a fan. As the game wound down, a “Fuck Tyrese” chant broke out next door, and the crowd rushed to the barricades at Seventh Avenue. The cops corralled the revelers — a mix of diehards, content creators, and others out for a good time — threatening arrest if they didn’t disperse. People climbed light poles and flexed atop the 34th Street subway canopy. Trae Young caught strays; “Knicks in seven” was the default message. “This is step one of looting,” one fan said, before darting off. By 11:30, it had died down. At Rose Pizza in Penn Station, a few fans who’d stuck it out for the shenanigans waited for slices while Patrick Hernandez’s disco romp “Born to Be Alive” played. On Friday, at least, the Knicks still were, too.

Knicks Fans Are Daring to Believe

Knicks Fans Are Daring to Believe