In the 80 years that the Knicks have existed, they have won only two championships, in 1970 and 1973. Fans cherished those teams. The Knicks were also excellent in the 1990s, and again, metro New York was captivated by their two marches to the N.B.A. finals, in 1994 and 1999, although both ended a step or three short of a title.
But even during those two memorable eras, there was never the kind of mass viewing experience spread across the five boroughs that we see now. In every corner of the city, countless spontaneous watch parties have merged into a communal expression of civic joy for the Knicks.
From the thousands watching on giant screens in Central Park to a small group peering at a phone on the Staten Island Ferry, fans are gathering to watch wherever they can.
Many still stay home to view games with family members and Knicks buddies from grade school. But for many thousands, the appeal of watching the games shoulder to shoulder with fellow New Yorkers in a park or a bar, most of them wearing some kind of Knicks gear, is growing. After all, only about 19,000 fans fit into Madison Square Garden, the Knicks’ home, and few can afford tickets selling for as much as $10,000, even in the upper reaches of the arena.
The citywide buzz built slowly at first. The Knicks had a good season, but were not favored to go far, let alone win the championship. They fell behind in the first round of the playoffs to Atlanta, but then for 13 straight games they forgot how to lose (at least until Monday’s Game 3).
Official watch parties popped up outside Madison Square Garden, then at places like Radio City Music Hall, Bryant Park and SummerStage in Central Park. And soon the unofficial gatherings were everywhere.
In Fort Greene, Brooklyn, a towering broadcast was projected on the side of a building as people watched from the street and on nearby rooftops. Outside the Sugar Hill Creamery in Harlem, kids devoured ice cream as the game was illuminated on pieces of poster board tied to scaffolding. Inmates at Rikers Island with records of good behavior were granted a viewing.
The games are shown in barbershops, laundromats, and at least one gas station in the West Village. And any bar, bodega or pizzeria with a TV is liable to fill up hours before tipoff.
About 100 fans crowded around a Jeep parked in front of Prince Street Pizza on Smith Street, in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn. Its hatch was lifted, and in the trunk, a 50-inch screen showed Game 1 against the Spurs.
The restaurant is only a few stops on the subway from the Barclays Center, where the city’s other basketball team, the Brooklyn Nets, play. But as has been noted often during this remarkable run that has united a city where loyalties are divided between Giants and Jets, Rangers and Islanders, Yankees and Mets, the Knicks are unique here.
“No other team brings New Yorkers together like the Knicks,” said Domenic Morano, 33, who owns the pizzeria with his father.
At the Harlem Tavern, Knicks orange and blue mixed with the décor for the upcoming World Cup soccer tournament. Nearby, at the Fox Harlem, a bar that rechristened itself Fox Madison Square Garden for the playoffs, the tables were full by 7 p.m., more than 90 minutes before the game started.
Reggie Richard, 57, looked out over the packed bar. At that point, days before the Spurs won Game 3, it was pure fun.
“Here in Harlem, man, it’s nothing but love,” he said. “It’s everybody here. It’s a mixed crowd, all different races, all different cultures. That’s what Harlem is all about, and New York, and the Knicks.”
At one intimate gathering on the Lower East Side, Gary Meister, a musician old enough to remember the 1973 championship, saw Jose Alvarado, the Brooklyn-born Knicks point guard, dive after a ball into celebrity row, where he landed on Michael Bloomberg, the former mayor of New York. “You can’t even fall down in that place without landing on an oligarch,” he said.
At Asia Roma, a fusion restaurant in Chinatown, about 30 members of the Chinatown Basketball Club nervously watched the Knicks chip away at a commanding Spurs lead in Game 1. Many of the players, who run in a pickup game on Sundays, donned Jeremy Lin jerseys for the former Knicks guard.
“It’s very rare to find a Chinatown spot that shows games,” said Herb Tang, who started the club with his wife, Lu Zhang. When the Knicks finally caught the Spurs and then won, Ja Rule’s “New York” blared from the speakers, as the crowd danced under Chinese lanterns.
In Prospect Lefferts Gardens, Mark Daniel, a maintenance worker, projected the game on a 150-inch screen outside as neighbors sat on folding chairs and milk crates. Many more stood, on both sides of the street.
Danny Castaneda and Julia Shao showed up with six-packs of Red Stripe. Ms. Shao, 29, a creative director, said that rooting for the Knicks was “a shared goal for everyone.”
Mr. Castaneda, 30, agreed. “This is community right here,” he said. “It’s all about the energy of being among our kin.”
Miles Cohen and Nate Schweber contributed reporting.
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