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.