Westchester Park Encounters: When Knicks Hats Create Momentary Friendships

Disclaimer: I am a dad living in Westchester, New York. The names of all people, but not all places, have been changed to protect the innocent and me from the glares of my neighbors who are definitely not reading this blog.

 In the suburbs of New York, it's common to run into a fellow New York sports fan. When you find yourself at Saxon Woods Park, the premier park in White Plains, New York to watch your child consider going down a slide, you may be wearing a hat of your favorite sports ball team. I tend to wear either New York Mets or the New York Knicks paraphernalia as I am glutton for allowing God to reach into my soul, by way of trachea, and tear me asunder. However, you may make different choices. It's up to you. 

As fate would have it this year, the New York Knicks are in the playoffs. This is great for three reasons. 

1. It's fun to watch your team in meaningful games. 

2. Supposedly, some of the players live in the Westchester area, and you may spot them around town like someone did at the Candlelight Inn. 

3. At parks, where you are shielding your eyes from sun, when your child has completely abandoned you for sitting at the top of a slide perhaps, maybe going down it (but probably not), you have a built in conversation starter and ender. 

"Big win last night," you might say, after he shouts you out for wearing the orange and blue (as I'm told true New Yorkers do)

"Great comeback," they might respond. 

And then, before you know it, you're chatting about how much you miss Allan Houston, Latrel Sprewell, and Marcus Camby. Your child is still sitting in front of the slide, you're worried if they'll ever have a best friend, but at least you've found someone to talk to. Maybe you'll ask them for their number, so you can hang out and watch sports ball on the massive television you never use because one of your children is always  watching something on it (Ms. Rachel, Paw Patrol, something with vampires). Maybe. Maybe they're in need of a friend just as much as you are. Maybe you two can sit in the garage, crack open a few beers, and listen to Franciso Lindor go yard on the couch that is still Saran wrapped from when the movers put another couch in your living room. 

Your child is never going down that slide, just like you're never going to ask that person to hang out . Your child is crying now. You have to go get them. By the time you get back, the man has moved on or left. You're watching sports alone, next to your wife.