Knicks let loose in championship festivities after months of hypnotic focus and resiliency

The 53-year wait was over. But there was still a bit of business to attend to before Jalen Brunson could begin to celebrate.

It was fitting. He finished the job the same way he conducted himself throughout the whole process.

With class. With humility. With champion identity.

Immediately after the final buzzer of the Knicks’ 94-90 Game 5 win over the Spurs on Saturday night at the Frost Bank Center, which secured their first championship since 1973, Brunson — as euphoria erupted around him — made his way from the bench over to Spurs coach Mitch Johnson to shake hands and exchange a few words. Brunson had not yet smiled or exhaled. Sportsmanship came first.

It wasn’t until Brunson’s dad, Rick, grabbed him by the shoulder that the weight of the moment hit him. That he fully grasped what he and the Knicks had just done.

“I turned around and my dad was there, and I felt emotional from that point on,” Brunson said. “Then I just remember Josh [Hart] talking into my ear, and him just saying, like, ‘We did it! We did it!’ And then I was emotional for a good, like, five, 10 minutes, and then the excitement started to kick in.”

That’s when the party truly kicked off.

It wouldn’t be long until the BAC levels rose. Until Ariel Hukporti made himself the MVP of the festivities. Until Jeremy Sochan’s shirt came off and stayed off. Until coach Mike Brown was barking, “Who let the dogs out?!”

By the time media got into the Knicks locker room, it immediately brought back memories of the mornings after frat parties in college — the wet and sticky floors, the empty bottles (Michelob Ultra beers, Moët & Chandon champagne and Patrón tequila were the main choices) and wafts of cigar smoke. Everyone was scattered around the bowels of the arena — between the locker room, the court, the interview rooms and the hallways in between.

The players and coaches with kids held them in their arms. The ones who didn’t held their drinks. Ben Stiller held something different — Brown’s whiteboard, given to him as a souvenir. Stiller grasped it tightly as if someone was going to try to steal it at any moment.

This was a team that was obsessively locked in the entire postseason. They would hardly even acknowledge their series leads or the unprecedented nature of their dominance. They repeated “0-0” as if they were hypnotized.

It was as if a burden on all of their shoulders was suddenly lifted.

“People don’t understand, we don’t really talk about it, the weight of that jersey, the expectations, the pressure of that jersey,” Hart said. “And, today, right now, it’s the lightest it’s ever felt.”

The rowdiest of the group were a few who almost never saw the court — Hukporti, Sochan, Mohamed Diawara and Pacôme Dadiet. They crashed the stars’ news conferences. They tried making half-court shots with the golden championship balls everyone was given. They playfully told their teammates it was enough family time and not enough party time.

When Mikal Bridges was speaking, Hukporti repeated “f–k them picks” a few times, a shot at all those who criticized the Knicks’ decision to send five first-rounders to the Nets to acquire Bridges.

“I got something to say,” Hukporti said. “You guys still listening? About them picks — we’re not leaving — man, we got him out of Brooklyn! Look at him now, you’re a champion! Look at him now. Everybody doubting your s–t. Ain’t take nobody from me. Hey, f–k them picks! F–k them picks!”

OG Anunoby, the hero of Game 4, walked around with sunglasses glued to his head and a stoic demeanor stuck on his face. Karl-Anthony Towns, the one who carried the Larry O’Brien Trophy off of the court, called him “Mr. Aura.”

But Towns also shared a few more serious moments, reflecting on his late mother, who passed during the pandemic, and his father, who has made it a point to be there for every step of his journey.

“Shoutout to him and to my mom, too,” Towns said, “because she had a lot of hours where they didn’t see me and trusted in me, and my pops was really putting it in at work and was trusting that we were going to make something special out of this.”

Back on the court, Sochan had taken control of the Knicks’ social media team’s camera and was following Hart. The two bickered about Arsenal and Chelsea, like they did for countless hours in the locker room throughout the year. Eventually, Hart begged Sochan to “leave me alone.”

And it all ended the way it started — with Brunson showing his and this Knicks team’s character.

When he got to the podium, he rhetorically asked, “Do I be myself, or do I talk my s–t?”

Of course, he chose the former. The question came about Becky Hammon’s now-infamous claim that Brunson would never be good enough to be the best player on a title team. Brunson could have used the moment as an opportunity for long-awaited gloating.

“I didn’t respond to them then,” Brunson said, “and I’m damn sure not going to respond to them now.”

The celebrations were cathartic. But, true to this team’s identity, they let their play talk loudest.