As a born-and-raised New Yorker, the recent championship of the New York Knicks is undeniably deeper than basketball. Although I myself am a fairweather fan, I was so moved by the intergenerational Knicks lore shared in my circles, the dedications to those who are no longer with us to celebrate in the flesh, but with whom there was a unique feeling of (re)connection through this, the abundance and vibrancy of camaraderie amongst strangers in the streets, and the personal and collective tales of decades of loss, failure, and disillusionment that necessitated resilience, perseverance, and most importantly: hope.
We fell in love again with a city that is a symbol for capitalism-that relentlessly extracts from us while hurling hardship at us. The rent is too damn high. Working-class folks live in neglected public housing across the street from billionaires’ empty pied-a-terres. Stadium workers, who are often only hired for a season, cannot afford a ticket to the Garden, but the team owners are raking in $20 million per game. The working class is split into tiers, preventing tech workers and food service workers from seeing each other as comrades against the owners who exploit us all. Disproportionate hardship is placed upon Black folks, trans folks, women, and immigrants through oppressive systems that also function to silo us, alienate us, and not realize our class’s potential.
We fell in love again because through this collective experience of Knicks fandom; whether someone was a die-hard lifelong fan or a bandwagon fan, we opened ourselves to the possibility that we are on the same side. We allowed ourselves to feel shared connection, meaning, and possibility. Sociologists call this collective effervescence — when we experience a sense of belonging, unity, and “us.” It affects our nervous systems and neurological pathways. This “electric” feeling is a real bodily sensation, experienced somatically, and it nourishes us in our bones, beyond intellectual comprehension. This is not dissimilar from what we experience on a dancefloor or at a protest.
My question now is: how might we use this win, this hope, this optimism, this camaraderie to fight for a city and a world that allows us an abundance of joy, buoyancy, and freedom like we have this week?
The Knicks were the underdog. They had not won a championship in 53 years. They had not even made it to the finals in 27 years. They were behind in every game, including in Game 4 in the biggest comeback in NBA history. But along with our collective effervescence, they realized their power. The working class will continue to be the underdog until we realize our power. We have to develop our socialist optimism — the belief that we can transcend the alienation, exploitation, and despair that capitalism imposes on us and fight for another world where we feel whole, connected, creative, and cared for. We need what my comrade calls the revolutionary imaginary because “we must be able to conceive of a better world in order to actually fight for one.” Imagine if we can harness all of the feels from this week to continue to see each other as comrades who belong to the working class. And through our organizing towards revolution, we can win against the bourgeoisie.
In a recent meeting, a comrade actually spoke about the energy in NYC post-championship as a serious aspect of the balance of forces that might make Trump hesitate to send more ICE agents here (as Tom Homan has threatened) for the time being. New Yorkers were already NOT having it when Trump shut down midtown streets and viewing parties to attend Game 3, a flagrant reminder of the ways the rich rob the working class of joy for their benefit. New Yorkers gathered outside, holding signs like “Fuck Trump’s War, Knicks in Four,” booing him, dragging him on the internet after Game 3 was the only one we lost, and, of course, burning sage outside MSG before Game 4. All along, sharing in such connected joy. To me, through our camaraderie and collective effervescence, New York showed the world its revolutionary potential when we lock in with one another.
We are too hype, we are too protective, our arms are already linked. Don’t fuck with us.
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