Kemba Walker playing for the Knicks this year is about much more than just a near-perfect fit on the basketball court — it represents one of the most true New York-style point guards ever getting to come home and play on New York’s biggest stage again.

Kemba Walker wasn’t going to return to the Knicks just because they were willing to pay him and because he was a free agent. 

"Before Boston actually came along, the Knicks were one of my top priorities because I was thinking that they were gonna get another player," Walker said last year of the 2019 free agency period. "But it didn't work out."

The Knicks had to earn it. The stars finally aligned — New York had a hole at the 1, and Kemba’s contract value was an albatross because of recurring injuries, despite his play being good. Sam Presti, for the first time in seemingly ever, let a player go without netting nary a pick for him (though he got a pick for taking Kemba on in the first place). The long-fated reunion between NYC and arguably her greatest son — at least within the last decade — became consummated, and Knicks fans everywhere rejoiced. It was as much a stroke of luck for the Knicks as it was a recognition of Julius Randle by his peers, and that’s worth noting. Julius netted the Knicks a star — or something close to one, at a bargain bin price. 

But I ain’t here to nitpick my Bronx-bred brethren’s place in the NBA ecosystem, or talk about his contract value, or how he’ll play off of Randle. I am here to celebrate, to pay homage. The jubilation upon his signing wasn’t just about the numbers on the back of his Topps card (dated metaphor alert!). For me personally, Kemba represents a certain archetype of player: the New York City guard. We hear Mark Jackson and Kenny Smith wax poetic about this mythical player type, which is ironic because despite both being New York guards, neither are actually representative of this swaggering, ball-on-a-string, questionable fundamentals archetype. Kenny was a caretaker guard who specialized in spotting up, and Mark was a big post-up dinosaur of a point guard with excellent court vision. Both are far afoot from classic New York guards, and have absolutely zero Nate “Tiny’’Archibald in their game.

(Fun fact: Tiny once put a 50 piece on my dad and his team’s head in Harlem in the ’70s.)

No, what they are referring to is actually an archetype that seldom finds success in the league. Arguably, the last player to fulfill the prophecy with the requisite playing style was the namesake of this website, Rod Strickland. Ask Villanova legend and Bronx native Corey Fisher, or fallen-star and LeBron James high school SLAM cover co-star Sebastian Telfair. These guards were all characterized by incredible ball handling, a dogged demeanor to match their undersized nature, and confidence of a star. Stephon Marbury wielded brute force more than he did finesse, but he was probably the closest thing to a star version of this genus of hooper. Without knockdown shooting or size, it’s hard for a guard cut from this cloth to make it in the league. This is why most of the success stories from NYC over the last twenty years are bigger players: Lance Thomas, Ron Artest, Lamar Odom, Joakim Noah, Kyle O’Quinn, and Obi Toppin, to name a few. 

But Kemba defied all of that. 

In an article examining the demise of the NYC-bred hoopers in the NBA, Rod Strickland had an interesting quote: “Back in my day, you were either a [New York] Gaucho or a [Riverside] Hawk... if you weren’t good enough to make one of those two teams, then you weren’t good enough to travel and you couldn’t get the recognition. So you had to work to get to play with the best and against the best.”

The context of the quote is him theorizing that the decentralization of AAU ball — a million teams, parents moving their kids across state lines and even across the country to accommodate their game, etc. — has taken away NYC’s greatest advantage: the dense, high population of would-be hoopers growing up playing each other in a cauldron of competition.

But that didn’t stop Kemba Walker! He was undersized, like many before him. His handle was incredible, jaw-dropping, highlight reel stuff. His jump shot was pretty, despite being streaky at best and unreliable at worst. His skills were honed at the Bronx gym housing the aforementioned Gauchos during the early 2000s, when their grip on AAU dominance was waning, and he was the best player on the No. 1 AAU team in the nation there. He willed his teams to win at Rice High School in Harlem, where as a junior he played against an elite Chicago powerhouse, Simeon Career Academy, and defeated a team led by a spectacular senior guard, No. 1 in the country, named Derrick Rose. The score was 53-51. 

At UConn, we all know very well what he did. The legend was born there for all of the nation to see: three years, culminating in a championship, a spectacular March Madness run for the ages, with arguably the most iconic Prezbait crossover in the history of non-Allen-Iverson crossovers: 

And yet, despite all of that, he still struggled coming to the league. He was the star of the Charlotte Bobcats, but the weak points in his game — his size, his shaky jump shot — were finally being exposed. His efficiency was sorely lacking because of it. This happened for four years, and whispers of his being overrated became louder. And yet, Kemba would not be denied. He worked with shooting coach Bruce Kreutzer to tweak his footwork and his set point and got reps in, elevating his jump shot from streaky to reliably deadly. That, coupled with his elite handles, unlocked the rest of his game. His passing improved, and his finishing at the rim went from low 50s to around 60%. He even learned to contribute to winning defenses under coach Steve Clifford. All of this in a year. He wouldn’t be denied, and he wouldn’t fall away like so many NYC guards before him. He became a bonafide star, playing the brand of hoop New Yorkers recognize: competitive on defense despite being undersized, flashy, both classic and modern at the same time. Equal parts And-1 mixtape circuit and hard-nosed fearlessness. If you’re from NYC and you hear him talk, you can tell which part of the city he’s from. That’s how New York he is. 

This is the player the Knicks are bringing to an already competitive team. This is the person the Knicks are bringing to an already motivated roster. So if you’re wondering why the excitement, why the overreaction from Knicks fans, it’s not just that they finally got a steal of a contract (though it’s that, too). It’s not just that they finally got sort of a star player willing to join (though it’s that, too). It’s not just that they have, finally, a point guard who can really shoot and break down a defense (though it’s that, too!). It’s that the vessel for all of those victories is Kemba Hudley Walker, a perfect encapsulation of NYC hoops, of hard work and natural talent uniting and triumphing over limitations and obstacles. And he’s home now, where he belongs. I won’t call it a fairy tale just yet, but I will call it emotional, spectacular, unexpected, and, yes, reaffirming. Until the leather hits the hardwood, we should all take time to appreciate what it means. Save your worries and critiques for later. For now, just appreciate his journey.