On Wednesday, a minor Republican congressional hopeful named Dan Weldon had this to say about Texas Democratic Senate nominee James Talarico: “It’s a huge problem for the Democrat Party that you take one look at the men they run for elected office and just know that they couldn’t name a single obscure wide receiver from the early 2000s.” The point he is trying to make has become tediously familiar ever since Kamala Harris lost to Donald Trump in 2024. Democrats need to become less stuffy and more convivial, conversant in the vernacular of the bros—capable of chopping it up about healthcare policy and immigration, sure, but also about James Thrash, Laveranues Coles, and Chris Chambers. This isn’t necessarily bad advice. One of the most sacred rites among men of a certain age is to reminisce about the mediocre athletes of their adolescence—“remembering some guys,” as it is known colloquially. In this media environment, authenticity is valued over everything.
On the other hand, the GOP never extends the same scrutiny to its banner leader, Trump, who remains the world’s most prodigious fake sports fan and is currently bullshitting about his New York Knicks fandom.
A quick recap: Earlier this week, the Knicks secured a spot in the NBA finals after sweeping the Cleveland Cavaliers four games to zero. It is the first finals appearance for the Knicks since 1999, which, unsurprisingly, was also the first season played after Michael Jordan retired. The intervening decades after that campaign were unfathomably dark: There was the sexual harassment scandal, a multitude of boneheaded executive decisions, and a lot of terrible basketball. And yet, despite those years in the wilderness, the Knicks have reemerged with an awesome team and a pleasing, egalitarian style of play replete with unselfish passes, disciplined defensive schemes, and clutch shooting. The city is legitimately euphoric about the turnaround, and it ought to be. The Knicks could win the NBA title!
But Trump, always sniffing around any success stories he has nothing to do with, would not let that joy persist for long. On Tuesday, the president started making noise about attending one of the forthcoming Knicks championship games. In fact, he said that James Dolan—the Knicks owner, world-renowned failson, and all-around weirdo—had personally invited him to the series. That alone wasn’t surprising: Trump and Dolan are friends, and they love to congratulate each other. But when the New York Times broke the news, the White House correspondent described the president as a “longtime Knicks fan.” At the risk of mixing my sports metaphors, I’m throwing a challenge flag on that.
Trump, wealthy and publicly obsessed New York scion that he is, has passed through Madison Square Garden on many occasions when the Knicks have been playing. In fact, after making those comments, eagle-eyed archivists immediately resurfaced the broadcast from the 1994 NBA finals between the Knicks and Houston Rockets, where, during halftime, Trump and his second wife, Marla Maples, made a brief cameo. (Indeed, he’s made many man-about-town celebrity appearances over the years.) But does he follow the Knicks? Was he there for the lean years, when the team was running out lineups with nobodies like Langston Galloway and Ron Baker? Did he believe in the upside of Stephon Marbury? Did he rejoice in the firing of Derek Fisher? Or agonize over the hiring of Mike Brown? I don’t believe it for a second. You know why? Because this is the first time he has mentioned anything about the Knicks throughout his entire political career. And it is no surprise that it’s occurring at the zenith of the team’s crossover relevance. Put another way: Trump threatening to attend a Knicks game and Trump offering his thoughts on Robert Pattinson’s breakup come from the exact same impulse—an understanding that in order to feel alive, he must tilt the discourse toward himself at all costs.
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I think that’s exactly why the team sport Trump has been most involved with over the years is football, which continues to exist at the exact center of American ritual life. The man was heavily involved in the fledgling United States Football League, which briefly challenged the NFL’s supremacy in the 1980s before collapsing, and liberals love to opine about the alternative timeline in which we might be living if Trump had successfully purchased the Buffalo Bills in 2014. (Can you even imagine? Man.) But even here, his interest in football is only ever leveraged for his own gains materially, culturally, or politically. When Trump talks about football, it is usually so he can excoriate Colin Kaepernick for his national anthem protests, allow routinely concussed New York Giants quarterback Jaxson Dart to introduce him at a rally (and cause team problems along the way), or attend miscellaneous red-state college football rivalries during the election. In fact, the only time I can remember Trump having a vested interest in what actually happened on the gridiron was when he went off script to complain about the new kickoff rules instituted by the NFL, perfectly mirroring the demeanor of cankered grandparents from sea to shining sea. (When asked to comment on Trump’s complaints, Kansas City Chiefs special teams coordinator Dave Toub said that the president “doesn’t even know what he’s looking at.”)
So, yes, I don’t think Trump can name too many obscure wide receivers from the 2000s. But Weldon is correct that it does remain an issue for Democrats as well. When New York Gov. Kathy Hochul was asked about Trump’s specious Knicks fandom, she said she wanted him to “name the starting lineup of the 1993 championship team” to “see how he does.” One issue with that: The New York Knicks did not win a championship in 1993. They lost in six games to the Chicago Bulls in the Eastern Conference finals. At least we have Zohran Mamdani, who shouted out Jalen Brunson during his inauguration speech. You know a real one when you see them.
