Playing Up to the Hype
By Dan Markowitz
New York Times
The author is a long-time Knicks fan who co-authored books with two Knick legends:
Walt Frazier (The Game Within the Game, Hyperion, 2005) and John Starks (John
Starks: My Life, Sports Publishing LLC, 2003).
Consider this:
The Knicks opened their playoff run last year against the Boston Celtics by
beaming reserve forward Kenyon Martin’s face on the massive overhead scoreboard
screen above the court. Martin’s visage then addressed the Garden faithful.
“Madison Square Garden, it’s the playoffs and we need you now. Turn off the
lights. Five, four, three, two, one. Now!”
A video montage of highlights followed featuring a celebratory assortment of
slam dunks, fist pumps and defiant faces. Over the loudspeaker billowed the voice
of the Knicks public address announcer sounding like the Wizard of Oz.
“And now, please welcome your…New York Knicks!”
Each word in the team’s name was emphasized to the point of awe.
Fireworks exploded out of the scoreboard and a lights display rippled throughout
the darkened Garden. Rap music romped out over the loudspeakers. The Knick City
Dancers surrounded the Knicks bench. Upon hearing their names screeched out,
each starting Knicks player ran out and through a gauntlet of teammates. They
slapped high fives, low fives and jumped up into each other’s chests. The youngest
Knick, Iman Schumpert, shimmied with knees extended high like a break dancer.
Finally, the crescendo was reached in the announcement of the team’s star player.
“At forward, 6-6, out of Syracuse, Carmel-o (the PA announcer here held the
“o” a few tremulous seconds) An-tho-ny (holding “the ny” like Pavarotti so it
reverberated through the crowd).”
Pandemonium ensued. Everyone--the players, the dancers, the crowd--or at
least the part all too willing to get swept up into the euphoria, was whipped into a
lathered frenzy. The games that followed almost seemed a letdown, especially Game
5 where the Knicks failed to close out the Celtics in Madison Square Garden with a 3
games to 1 lead.
The real excitement--the most emphatic presentation of the Knicks
dominance—occurred not in their actual play, but in the announcement of the
team’s starting five. The Knicks performed together better and exhibited finer
teamwork in the pre-game festivities. Once the games started, Carmelo Anthony
scored, Tyson Chandler blocked some shots and J.R. Smith fired away from longrange, but no singular play or stirring game situation matched the hype and energy
of the pre-opening tap production. And as a result, the Knicks lost another crucial
home game in the next round of the playoff —Game 1 against the Indiana Pacers—
from which they would not recover. The Pacers ended the Knicks season at Market
Square Arena in Indianapolis in Game 6 of the second-round series. There was no
anticipated Eastern Conference Finals match up with the Miami Heat and the Knicks
NBA-winning championship drought extended yet another year to 40.
What a contrast in experience to when I was a kid attending Knicks’ game at
the Garden. I went to my first game in the 1970 playoffs when the Knicks faced the
Baltimore Bullets. I remember watching in awe as Dave DeBusschere, Bill Bradley,
Dick Barnett, Walt Frazier and Willis Reed ran out when John Condon, the PA
announcer back then, called out their names. I don’t recall any music being played.
There was silence, reverence as each player donning their crisp white warm up
outfits, jogged out to the free throw line in front of the team bench. Condon had an
understated, stately way of calling out the players’ names.
Each player stopped at the free throw line and turned toward the opposing
team players, all lined up on the opposite foul line. I remember Bradley and
DeBusschere, who were roommates on the road, didn’t shake or clap hands or even
much acknowledge one another as they stood together, their hands clasped behind
their backs. I don’t think Barnett tapped hands with DeBusschere or Bradley either.
He just took his place in line, shuffling his feet and bobbing his head.
Frazier might have touched hands briefly with the other three in the soulful
style he had, but by the time Reed shuffled out onto the court, they looked all
business, standing side by side, staring out impassively. Their mien was as classy
and straightforward as the announcement that introduced them. As a fan, even if
you didn’t have a seat close enough—as I didn’t--to see the determination in their
eyes, you knew the Knicks were ready to play and excel. They embodied the perfect
combination of talent, teamwork and respect.
As Bradley said years later, “None of us felt we could be as good alone as all
of us could be together. Our unity came sometimes with laughs, sometimes with
conflicts, sometimes with moments of collective insight, but it was that spirit of
camaraderie which brought us together in a way that allowed the fans to see
something very special.”
There’s no going back to the dignified introductions of the Knicks starting
five from 1970. DeBusschere, Bradley, Frazier, Barnett and Reed—or players of
their combined genius--aren’t returning either. The over-the-top, pre-game
histrionics is a sign of the times the Knicks have embraced, but they are hardly the
only NBA team that has put so much choreographed grandeur into its production.
Still, if the Knicks are finally going to be able to throw a parade again after winning a
championship--instead of staging the equivalent of one before the start of each
game--their players’ in-game performances will have to live up to the majesty of the
team’s pre-game theatrics.