My Personal Knicks Parade…of Memories For A Lifetime…

One more Knicks postscript for me.

The why.

While there are thousands of young people and new arrivals on the massive bandwagon there are the personal stories of strangers and of those in my recent and distant past that made this special for a watch party of one.

A few examples.

Early Sunday morning I got a text from my colleague and friend Howie Jacobs saying that he and his daughter made a midnight run to Dick’s Sporting Goods at the Palisades Center mall. He said that the store was reopening at 7 that Sunday with all the gear that was already quickly sold out on line. Now I’m usually not one for branded gear but as I rose to go find the hard copies of New York’s two tabloids…The Daily News and The New York Post to save…I figured why not, so I made the 15 minute early morning drive to the mall.

Not knowing what to expect, I walked in and there were people, about 20 to 30, there, mostly in their 40’s and 50’s, getting their stuff. I picked out a few items and as I was about to go to the cashier I noticed the guy. He was probably in his mid 40’s wearing a number 11 jersey…a JAMAL CRAWFORD number 11 jersey…and he was looking down and holding a new hat he had just purchased.

And he was crying.

I walked by him and he looked up at me, and all he said was “I just can’t believe this happened” and he gave me a hug and walked out of the store wearing his Jcraw jersey and his new lid.

Those are the people that this was also for.

Then there is my friend Joe Calvo, who we lost a few weeks ago very suddenly.  At his funeral  the priest (a Fordham grad btw) said the Sisters who were supporting the Spurs didn’t really have a prayer to help with divine intervention at this point, the Knicks now had Joe…and their boss Pope Leo and the ‘Nova Knicks, and maybe he was right.

Going one step further, just as the playoffs started I bought an orange Knicks flag, which has been outside our house for the playoff run. It was different and hard to find, not the traditional blue ones you find on Amazon. A little different. When I out it on Facebook I got a message from Joe’s wife Mimi saying the same flag had arrived at their house a few days after Joe’s passing. He had ordered the same flag the same day as me. Long suffering minds work in mysterious ways. Then there was the next part. Joe and Mimi have twin sons, with the same sports DNA as Joe had, and in their toughest times these past few weeks they have had the Knicks to hold them together. As things ended on Saturday I got a message from Mimi saying the boys knew that their dad had performed his first miracle.

The Knicks gave these two young fans, who had been through the worst of times suddenly losing their dad, reasons to believe for years to come.

Go New York Go.

Now most know I am lucky to have a connection beyond fandom to the organization, having spent seven seasons with the team. While those people and places remain very special to me, my connection to the team goes as far back as any fandom that didn’t start at Shea Stadium that I have.

I don’t remember the 1970 title much, but I do remember the second one and my first trip to MSG. My cousin Larry had season tickets…last row center court of the blue seats, and he gave my dad two tickets to a game the year after the championship. March 23, 1974, KC-Omaha Kings 107 Knicks 106. An upset for the visitors despite not having their star Nate “Tiny” Archibald that night. I remember those seats and that night…and yes I have the program and the ticket stubs.  

That fandom, that smell of the Garden’s grittiness never ceased, not when I was old enough to go to games in high school in the 1980’s with my buddies Pete Gaudiuso, Rocco DiSanto, Alan Solarana  and Andy Catapano and Jimmy Conley (with Jimmy there was an usher named Wolfie who we tipped a few times to move down from the blue seats closer to the court), not in college, where as a basketball manager at  Fordham we got to actually be on the court and where I met for the first time the legendary PA announcer John Condon (also a Fordham alum) and Marv Albert and Bob Wolff and John Andariese and so many others. Not in college when at halftime of a Knicks game I got to referee the national championship of the Schick three on three college tournament, and not after college when I would find time through various and sundry jobs to make it back to MSG, including the special trips the Sixers took to the building when we were there.

On and on.

The people I thought of, most of whom are lucky to be still with us, at the end are those whose lives I have been lucky enough to have been around for all these years, especially during my seven seasons there; stat crews and announcers, trainers and ballboys, security people and building staff and fans who literally spent thousands not to be celebrities, but to bask in the bright lights and big city feel of the Knicks and MSG waiting and hoping and usually enjoying the moments, none of which was more special then this unexpected run.

That’s my parade, the one of memories and people here and gone. Those above…my dad Vinny who took me to my first game, my buddies Jimmy Dempsey and Jim Hague, the late Johnny Hoops, Cal Ramsay, the legends like Dave DeBusschere and Dick Barnette and Michael Ray Richardson and Willis Reed who I got to know just a little bit. The memories we have had as a family not just at games, but having given my kids the opportunity through my job to have met the cast of Sesame Street at a game, or to have been there when Patrick Ewing’s number went to the rafters and on and on. All part of my parade. Was it all fun? Nothing worthwhile is, but it was very special.

Lastly, the read worth your time is from Helene Elliott, as gifted a writer as we have, about her thoughts of another Knicks legend gone too soon, her husband Dennis D’Agostino. If anyone above enjoyed this run, it was Dennis, who was also there with all of us in spirit every day.

For Calvo, the guy in the store and all our friends and coworkers. I can’t believe it happened either.

But I’m glad it did.

Go NY Go indeed.