“Knicks fans, this is not a dream,” the play-by-play man Mike Breen declared after the final buzzer sounded in Game Five. After fifty-three years—close calls, heartbreaking losses, periods of disrepute and outright wretchedness, front-office mismanagement, and an ecstatic moment of Linsanity—the New York Knicks are N.B.A. champions again. Jalen Brunson, the team’s emotional engine and now forever king of the city, scored forty-five points in the win, nearly half the Knicks’ total. In the end, the victory came on the road, though enough Knicks fans had managed to secure seats on the Spurs’ home court to make the victory feel plenty festive. Back in New York, where it seemed that every other resident spent the day decked out in Knicks gear, watch parties erupted.

After the game, with the glimmer of tears in their eyes, the New Yorker editor David Remnick and Vinson Cunningham celebrated the win, and were joined by Louisa Thomas, who managed a bit more equanimity. They discussed how the Knicks proved themselves too tough, too poised, and too relentless—and saved the magazine from inflicting a jinx on the team with our new cover, out on Monday. Meanwhile, there were the Spurs, young and talented and likely headed for years of success, but who, save for their one win in the series, simply couldn’t close out a game.

Life will continue, with all its trials, Remnick pointed out, but for Knicks fans, now was the moment to hug a stranger. ♦