On basketball and NYC and solitude and togetherness…

So I'm a New Yorker and I love this city and the Knicks are a lot of fun right now but that's not the part that matters.

What matters is that I like playing basketball with my friends and I like playing basketball all by myself; either way it's a good time.

And the thought just struck me that New York and basketball are alike: both amazing when you're together and amazing when you're alone. Maybe that's why I love both?

This is a city chock full of basketball courts. Every borough, every neighborhood, from real parks to school parking lots to corners half-hidden under highways, we're lousy with places to shoot around and we're rich in people to hoop with.

Basketball is this city's game, and it's my game. A game I can play with friends, strangers, or just myself and a ball.

New York is like this too and I think that's why they match each other's energy.

The city is alive no matter how I take it in. I can feel New York's vital force riding the subway across Gowanus or watching the marathon or picnicking at Prospect Park. I can also feel it wandering dead ends or walking home at night.

The court, too, is alive, stirred by the rhythm of one ball, one player, as much as by a rowdy pickup game or a gaggle of kids practicing together.

I shoot around alone and I feel it. I play some quick one on one with another dad on the playground and I feel it. A bunch of friends join up with another crew to get a game going and I feel it.

Even watching the game quietly at home while my toddler sleeps upstairs, I see the photos of neighborhood watch parties, I hear the fireworks nearby, I watch the timeline go wild after a win, I feel the city around me celebrating.

And if I pay real close attention I feel the city celebrating all around me, in ways subtle and loud, pretty much every day.