New York State of Mind

Let’s get one thing clear and out of the way. I am and will forever be a Lakers fan. I’m LA born and California raised.

Some of my earliest memories of my moms are of her wearing an ‘87 ‘88 back-to-back champs Lakers shirt with each player’s caricature on it (you can still find some on eBay for $140). My pops would get home from work, eat dinner, kick his feet up and watch his beloved Lakers on a small TV in our kitchen while our three dogs laid by his chair. I remember watching all Lakers home games on Fox Sports West and all road games on KCAL 9 (neither of which exist anymore). 

I bleed purple and gold, and that will never change.

Ok, now that that’s cleared up…

I was 8 years old when the Lakers faced off against Michael Jordan’s Bulls in ‘91. It was the first time I was invested in being a Lakers fan. I thought for sure Magic was about to get his sixth ring. But MJ had other plans. I was crushed.

That was the start of my lifelong hatred of Michael Jordan.

I would cheer for any team that played the Bulls in the playoffs. The Pacers. The Magic. The Heat. But I rooted especially hard for those 90’s Knicks. They had an incredible aura that was undeniable. The Pat Riley era with Ewing, Starks, Mase (always with the fly cuts), Oak and then the Jeff Van Gundy era with Spree, Houston, and LJ. Man… they were tough and gritty. Wasn’t no punk in any of those guys. 

And when the Garden was rocking, you could feel the energy through the TV.

—

Sometime in the early 90s, My Tio Nestor (RIP) moved to Queens. He went to manage a Domino’s Pizza out there. And in ‘95, he flew me out to stay with him for a couple weeks during Christmas break. I instantly fell in love with the city. 

I brought two tapes with me on that trip – LL’s “Mr. Smith” and Dogg Pound’s “Dogg Food”. “I Shot Ya” and “New York, New York” became the soundtrack for those two weeks.

My Tio took me to the “Top of the World” observation deck in the south tower of the World Trade Center. He showed me around Times Square and I remember seeing all the seedy adult emporiums and peep shows. 

The energy of NY in the 90s was something I never experienced before.

Then we walked by Madison Square Garden. We didn’t go inside, but the Knicks were playing the Heat that night. Everyone was decked out. The feeling was electric. And there I was, just a wide-eyed kid from Cali. I was soaking it all in. 

The fashion. The music. The slang. The hustle.

I took all of it back with me. It changed my life in many ways. To this day, I’ll occasionally get asked if I’m from New York because of how I talk.

But if you know me, you know I love Los Angeles. I love California. But there’s a lot of shit I hate about it. And before you can truly hate something, you gotta have loved it first.

But New York? I LOVE New York. It has produced some of my favorite artists and auteurs of all time: Nas, Jamel Shabazz, DeNiro, Scorsese, Spike, Denzel, Martha Cooper, Janette Beckman. The list is endless.

I love the different neighborhoods. I love how everything and everyone is stacked on top of each other. I love the subways and the bridges. I love that I can get fire versions of any type of food there. I love that every single nationality on the planet is represented there. I love the honesty there.

It takes a tough mentality to survive in New York. Nothing comes easy there. And I love that.

New York has my heart in a way that California just doesn’t.

—

I told myself that if and when the Knicks got to three wins against the Spurs in these ‘26 Finals, I would fly out for the potential series clincher. I wanted to go document what would be a historic New York moment.

I HAD to be there.

The only problem was that the Knicks had to win in four or five games because I had prior engagements to attend to on the dates that game six and seven were scheduled for. 

When the Knicks lost game 3, I started to think that this might become a seven game series. 

But then OG’s miracle tip happened in game 4, and the Knicks completed the largest comeback in NBA Finals history. 

I bought my flight and hotel that night for game 5.

And even when the Knicks were down 16 in game 5, I knew in my bones that they weren’t losing that game. There was too much riding on it. A 53-year championship drought was coming to an end that night, and not even an 8-foot tall French basketball alien could stop it.

There was never a doubt. KNICKS IN 5.

—

Before the start of game 5, I went on a side mission to photograph the new Knicks mural by WERDS MOK. It’s a five story vertical piece that starts at the top floor of one of the Elliott Houses buildings. The light wasn’t quite right when I got to the rooftop. So I waited.

For two hours I waited on that project rooftop. Just me and the sounds of Billy Joel, Frank Sinatra, Nas, Jadakiss, Mobb Deep, and so many others.

When I knew I got the image I wanted, I saluted the skyline and dipped out. 

Thank you, New York.

I’m truly happy for you.