But put the Knicks and Nets together and now you’re working off an entirely different scale. The crowd’s response to the crossover is a softer, pianissimo sound than an undivided Nets crowd would make; cloudier, but richer, an oboe in an opium dream. The swell is where the polyphony kicks in, the crowd responding to Kyrie seizing the moment, the bright, rising roar of the home fans harmonized by a sound you’re used to hearing unaccompanied at 33rd and 8th – the disgruntled anxiety of a Garden crowd when the other team’s star lines the game up in his sights. When the ball drops through the net, it’s like a four-part chorus exploding: Nets fans who root for the current team, people with free tickets who remember that guy who married Kim Kardashian was a Net, scenesters in search of somewhere new to be seen not being seen and Knicks fans. Knicks-Nets choruses are a richer, more encompassing instrument than most.
Something unique has taken root where rivalry had been expected to grow. Turns out the NBA, looking to emulate soccer’s success with mid-season tournaments, has stumbled upon its first soccer-style polyphonic crowd. It adds a wonderful flavor to the game experience, the split crowd. Honestly, if the league adds a mid-season tournament that features crowds like we heard last night, and that replaces some of those DET/UTA nights, that’d pro’ly be better for everyone.
The shifting emotions of the crowd – when the game was close; there were long stretches when Brooklyn led by a few possessions and it sounded like any other arena – added to the drama, cooked it in some of its own juices. Someday the Knicks will beat the Nets, but not today. Someday Knicks-Nets will be a rivalry, but not today. Someday the flavor of a Knick-Net crowd may be as uniquely NYC as a slice or a bagel with a schmear. For now, where there is hope, there is harmony.