By the end, after Alicia Keys had brought down the house and helped raise the Knicks together one last time, this time to dance to “Empire State of Mind,” a fine New York morning and afternoon were finally winding down. Nobody yelled, “Last call,” but the sentiment was plain:
You don’t have to go home. But you can’t stay here.
That was right. That fit. In so many ways, this felt like the last high school party before everyone scatters off to the wind: to college, to the service, to the workforce. The streets of lower Manhattan had started to fill before the sun even rose, which is what happens when you wait 80 years for a celebration like this.
Before the captain, Jalen Brunson, could summarize it all in three simple words:
