This is what happens when you become the talk and the toast of the town, especially this town: When Landry Shamet walks his dog, the people stop him, say hello. They want to say thanks. They want to tell him how loud they yelled when they watched him hit that shot against the Cavaliers, the one that bounced twice off the rim and nearly toppled Madison Square Garden.
But this is New York City, so there is a difference. This isn’t Wichita or Oklahoma City or San Antonio, where they’re too polite to leave it at that. No.
“Can’t stop now,” they say.
“Got to finish this off,” they advise.
