What a semester in Europe taught me about Knicks fans
Across the pond, the fandom is stronger than I could have imagined
I watched the biggest Knicks win of my life in complete silence.
While the Knicks handed the Celtics their largest loss of the season in Game 6 of the Eastern conference semifinals at Madison Square Garden, I was more than 4,000 miles away, holding my dimly lit phone in the early hours of the morning from a sketchy hostel in the small city of Mostar, Bosnia, watching in noiseless euphoria. The several sleeping Europeans in my room may not have understood the significance of Mitchell Robinson’s defensive stand against the entire Celtic roster, nor the magnitude of the MSG crowd’s popping when OG Anunoby extended the Knicks’ lead to 38 (!), but I certainly did. For me and millions of other Knicks fans, this win had been a long time coming.
What brought me to a mid-sized city in a small Balkan nation? It was not a scouting trip to find the ‘bockers’ next draft-and-stash prospect, nor my pilgrimage to the birthplace of Knicks’ legend Bojan Bogdanović (Bojan, if you are reading this, we miss you). Rather, I had spent the previous four months in Prague, Czech Republic, in a program offered by my American university to enrich my understanding of the politics of central Europe. During that time, I was taking advantage of my weekends and breaks to travel to some lesser-known European places. To my surprise, at nearly every stop, the New York Knicks were relevant.
Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina — hometown of OAKAAK Bojan Bogdanović
On a trip to Sweden early in the semester, I ventured outside Stockholm to the Nacka Nature Reserve, an icy expanse of land with a frozen-over lake and a traditional Swedish sauna. In between stints in the 80º C (176º F) heat, I couldn’t help but notice the tattoo of a fellow sauna-goer. Was that really a Larry O’Brien trophy with the years 1970 and 1973 inked into the large European man’s forearm? I wasn’t hallucinating: the man had a Knicks’ championship trophy from 50 years ago tatted, and was eager to show me another on his opposite arm, a large image of Amar’e Stoudemire rising up for a dunk.
The tattooed gentleman – Polish by origin – told me he had moved to Sweden to play semi-professional basketball. As a kid, Stoudemire had been his favorite player, and once he signed with New York the man became a Knicks fan. He’s been watching ever since, at least as much as he can, given their early-morning start times. We talked about the team, sharing optimism for Mitch’s impending return from injury and our desire to see Karl Anthony-Towns log more minutes at the 4. When the heat got to be too much, we parted ways, ending on a note of Knicks optimism.
A quick stop in London reminded me of the journey the team made to play the Wizards there in 2019, to this day the most recent NBA game on the European continent. Those Knicks were led in scoring by Emmanuel Mudiay. Luke Kornet played a team-high 34 minutes, while a rookie named Robinson logged just 10. The game didn’t just give us one of the more bizarre official team graphics (Why is Trey Burke posting up Alonzo Trier? What is that font? Is that the best drawing they could do for the UniKornet?); the 101-100 loss to the Wizards was New York’s 18th loss in 20 games. Back in the states, they’d go on to lose their next 13.
Amidst the team’s worst losing streak of the last 40 years, the Knicks traded Kristaps Porziņģis, freeing up cap space for the mythical Free Agent Class of 2019. We all know how that went – dreams of Kevin Durant and Kyrie Irving evaporating into Taj Gibson and Bobby Portis – but the KP trade eventually began to sow the seeds of the current championship-contending roster. Julius Randle was signed into the newly freed-up cap space, Marcus Morris was signed and dealt for the pick that became Immanuel Quickley, and draft capital from the Mavericks netted Quentin Grimes, with draft night trades adding several second-round picks and Summer League stud Mohamed Diawara to the roster.
In the span between the Knicks’ stop in Europe and my own, the roster, front office, and culture had been rebuilt, with only Robinson remaining as a remnant of a bygone era.
A Julius Randle Russian doll spotted in Prague
Today, there are so many Europeans in the NBA that I had enough to start a game: take the best foreign NBA player born each nation I visited and see if I could build a championship team. A few countries I visited did not have any current players, and I didn’t make it to the homelands of either of the leagues’ two European perennial MVP candidates (I sadly did not get to catch a Serbian horse race with Jokić or invited to Giannis' yacht party in Greece). But stops in Slovenia, France and Germany did more than drain my bank account; they gave my transcontinental fantasy team a star trio of Luka Dončić, Victor Wembanyama and Franz Wagner. With Annuoby (United Kingdom) and Ivica Zubac (Croatia) in tow, I was ready for a ring. (Notably, a version of the same game with all-time Knicks was far less fruitful: a starting five of Anunoby, Beno Udrih, Evan Fournier, Danilo Gallinari and Isaiah Hartenstein would be a perennial lottery dweller.)
Even as Europe boasts the second-best basketball league in the world (the Euroleague, with more than 100 former NBA players and 20 teams spread across Germany, Spain, Greece and the rest of Europe), most fans in Europe still turn their eyes towards NBA teams. Given both the number of European stars in the Association and the strength of the NBA brand, this is no surprise. And with a recent estimate valuing the European basketball market at more than $20 billion and 270 million basketball fans across the continent, it makes sense that the NBA is attempting to break into the continent.
Basketball courts in Ljubljana, Prague, Dubrovnik, and Sarajevo
In most major cities I visited, basketball courts were as common as they are in New York or any American metropolis. I stumbled past the Goran Dragić court in Slovenia and played pickup ball across several courts in Prague, and at many I discussed American hoops. Learning about the international NBA ecosystem in Europe also gave me so much respect for fans of the sport who watch from a continent away, time difference and all. For non-afternoon games, European locals must either stay up late for East Coast games or wake up early for West Coast games (which start no later than 5 a.m. in most of Europe). It’s a grind; many elect to watch replays instead.
Even as a visitor, I could not watch the Knicks as much as I usually do. Early in the semester, I caught them in Prague after nights out, coming back from bars to watch games that started early in the morning. These regular-season games, which typically started at 1:30 local time and lasted till around 4 AM, were hard to catch, even with eased foreign academic responsibilities. However, once the playoffs started, nights were planned around the games, and became social endeavors. I searched cities for American sports bars, stayed in or went home early to watch. Staying up till sunrise on alternating nights became a part of my schedule through the playoff run.
When Jalen Brunson snatched Ausar Thompson’s ankles at four-something in the morning, I’m sure I woke my apartment mates up. When Mikal Bridges swiped the ball from Jaylen Brown, I shouted and ran through the streets of Prague, not able to hold my excitement. Back in New York, thousands of the Knicks faithful did the same.
After all, for the vast majority of my life, May basketball was an afterthought. It had always been my goal to witness a Knicks playoff run before heading off to college, and I got a total of one playoff win (thanks, Derrick Rose!) in my teenage years. As soon as I went across the country to school, the Knicks started winning. Of course, we can never choose when our teams are good. That would take the fun out of professional sports, the joy out of winning, and the fans off of Seventh Avenue after a playoff rout.
If my past self knew that the Knicks would go on their deepest run of the millennium while away from New York and outside of the country, perhaps I would have chalked it up to poetic irony and additional punishment tacked onto my largely unfruitful tenure of fandom. However, witnessing a playoff run from across the ocean was the most exciting experience of my lifetime as a Knicks fan. It was also one I was able to share with both strangers and friends.
After much convincing, I led a team of New Yorkers to convince an Irish pub to switch away from the Irish women’s soccer league to a playoff matchup versus Boston, and we were joined by a British fan in support of the team. Another night, at a TV-less club, I followed the game on my phone, running out to watch the final minutes over Facetime while the Knicks completed their second straight 20-plus-point comeback.
In Sicily, I balanced my attire at a nice restaurant on the night of a playoff game by wearing a Knicks jersey over a collared shirt (I was rightfully mocked). And in the small Balkan paradise of Montenegro, I met a Scottish man who promptly started a “Fuck Trae Young!” chant at a bar when I mentioned I was from New York. Everywhere I went, people recognized the significance of the Knicks’ run more than I ever could have imagined. However, there is no Knicks abroad experience I will remember more than a night in Malta.
The small island country in the Mediterranean is known for a few things: warm weather, beautiful beaches and historical ruins. Notably, basketball is not one of them (according to a quick search not only has no Maltesian played in the NBA, no man born in country has ever even played Division 1 college ball). So when I assumed that sports bars in the town of Sliema would be showing an important NBA playoff game with a 7 p.m. local start time, I couldn’t be more wrong.
By the time I arrived at the first bar and learned they didn’t carry the game, it was about to tip-off. In several other spots, I think there would have been a revolt if the bartender switched from soccer. I even checked out a betting storefront, where you could bet on the Knicks but not watch them. By the time the second quarter was underway, I had strayed far from my friends, lost service, and was just about ready to go back to our Airbnb and watch from there. Until I found the Step Down Bar.
As the name suggests, the hole-in-the-wall pub was a few steps down from street level. And after about ten minutes of fiddling with the TV (along with my reassurance that the bar would have my business for the rest of the night), the game was on. For the next two hours, my company consisted of my new friend, the bartender named Fellipe. After one customer left before halftime, not another entered. Fellipe had many questions. He had never watched a basketball game in full before. So, while focusing on the game, I did my best Mike Breen impression: explaining the stakes, the players, and the history. Sure, he was just doing his job, keeping an American tourist company and pouring his beer. But I made sure to do mine; by the time I left, he let me know that he was now a Knicks fan.
Fellipe kept the bar open past closing time. Together, we watched as the Knicks took their lead and the game went down to the stretch. Just as Pistons were about to tie the series and Tim Hardaway Jr. cement his status as a Knick-killer, KAT took over. Down four with a minute and a half left, he faded away over the baseline with one of the most beautiful shots I (or Fellipe) had ever seen to halve the deficit. The next possession, he launched a 30-foot moonshot to take the lead.
The only two people in the Step Down Bar erupted as the Knicks secured the win. Never in my life did I think I would be watching a Knicks playoff win on an island halfway between Sicily and North Africa. After a celebration, a shot and a nice tip, I parted ways with my new friend and headed back to join my friends.
A few weeks later, I returned home to the states. Soon after, the Knicks' championship hopes came to an end. Some trips stay with you forever, and so do certain unforgettable sporting events – moments so memorable you’ll always remember exactly where you were when they happened. This spring, I was lucky enough to experience more than my fair share of both: a semester of travels and a Knicks playoff run. I can only hope there will be more of both in the future. Not just for me, and the Knicks faithful in New York, but for fans across the world. They’ll be watching, too.
