There was a time when Donald Trump wasn’t just welcomed at the world’s most famous arena but when his attendance was trumpeted. In that not-so-distant past, Trump, who was born in Queens, was a part of Manhattan’s fabric, a New Yorker through and through. “Donald! Donald!” the fans called as he rounded the glass partition of the hockey rink where the New York Rangers played. It was 1999, Wayne Gretzky’s last season. “The Apprentice” was five years away, the White House not even a glint in his eye. When he shook hands and nodded knowingly to the Madison Square Garden masses, they felt happy that their rich and famous neighbor acknowledged them.
But Monday night, as President Donald Trump smiled broadly and saluted while “TheStar-Spangled Banner” blared and his image was shown to masses on the big screen for nearly eight seconds before Game 3 of the NBA Finals?
Heckling, jeering from every part of the arena was focused like a beam of white, hot angry light into owner James Dolan’s luxury suite where Trump stood.
Heckling, jeering from every part of the arena was focused like a beam of white, hot angry light into the owner James Dolan’s luxury suite where Trump stood. Secret Service agents, who had commandeered the boxes on each side of the owner’s box, pressed their fingers to their earpieces, as if they were trying to hear above the noisy and disrespectful din.
The intensity of the Garden’s displeasure did not wane even when Trump’s granddaughter Kai was shown behind him. The president smiled and saluted throughout his cameo, as if he was impervious to the crowd that likely wished he had picked some other Garden party to crash.
Joanne Cadden, 53, a fan dating back to the days of Patrick Ewing and the 1990s contending teams, told The Guardian of London, “He could have picked any other day. This night is for the fans. You’re making people go away from the Garden. This wasn’t the time.”
Cadden gestured toward the 10-foot security perimeter surrounding the arena, adding, “This looks like prison.”
This was all predictable, of course, the moment Trump decided to become the first sitting president to attend an NBA Finals game. Trump’s appearance felt a good deal like the disruption caused by an overzealous teenaged Spurs’ fan who darted onto the court at the Frost Bank Center in San Antonio during Game 2 in an attempt to snap a selfie with 7-foot-4 Spurs center Victor Wembanyama. In Monday night’s case, an emotionally stilted 79-year-old president essentially sought a selfie with 19,812 basketball fans, most of whom would have put rabbit ears behind his head if they could get close.
Some homecoming for The Donald, no?
Before Monday, it had been 27 years since the Knicks hosted a Finals game. They went into the night leading the Spurs 2-0 in the best-of-seven series. The only wet blanket on the euphoria was Trump accepting the invitation of his long-time friend, donor, Knicks chairman, Dolan. And it was, indeed, a wet blanket. Trump’s attendance forced the closures of streets and the cancellation of viewing parties outside the arena, and his attendance forced fans to come to the game two hours earlier for presidential-level security protocols.
Unlike those carefree days of the 1990s when a local real estate mogul strolled in through the freight elevator with the rest of the VIPs to watch a home team at MSG, Trump on Monday was the show. He arrived just before 7:20 p.m. ET on Marine One after a a short flight from his New Jersey golf club.
Some homecoming for The Donald, no?
Taking the Franklin D. Roosevelt East River Drive from Wall Street up to the Garden, Trump’s motorcade passed several Knicks watch parties. According to The Athletic, “Reporters traveling with Trump counted two middle fingers and one thumbs down, signs that said ‘Nobody wants you here,’ ‘Trump must go,’ and ‘Impeach. Convict. Remove.’”
By the time Trump made it to Dolan’s suite near midcourt, halfway up the stands, he took his seat in a box surrounded by bulletproof glass, constructed for his visit. When he finally appeared on the jumbotron, the booing directed at him dwarfed the booing for the visiting Spurs. According to a reporter I spoke with, most of the heckling can’t be printed in a family publication.
The transformation was now complete. The one-time celebrity, who long ago could calmly take a courtside seat next to Spike Lee and other iconic Knick season ticket-holders, was now getting a pariah’s treatment. To many New Yorkers he’s the local boy who made no-good.
The whole distraction wasn’t lost on many in the crowd or outside the Garden. The Knicks had not lost a game in 46 days, a preposterous statistic during a playoff run that featured a 13-game win streak. It was clear before the game tipped off that if the Knicks didn’t win Game 3, if they didn’t have a happy ending on this majestic night in the middle of Manhattan, then there’d be blame for the president of the United States, who just had to show up and play the Knicks’ bad luck charm.
Indeed, the Knicks lost 115-111.
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