Welcome to the Sugary Scoop, my free weekly newsletter where I help you see and experience the magic of NYC that I love so much through curated events, experiences, artists, and community stories.

What’s new this week?

Back to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming.

With Community Week NYC in the rearview mirror, we’re gonna buckle down and resume building out the Sweet and Salty podcast.

We started strong at the top of the year, but admittedly, trying to tackle both a first ever citywide initiative and a podcast while keeping the newsletter and our events going simultaneously was perhaps a bit too ambitious to do all at once.

Even DK, who is notoriously impatient about such things, conceded the fact that there was just too much going on.

Well hey, you live and learn right?

The priority now will be getting the content game going and building out some lovely events that I’ve conjured in my brain along the way.

I thank you for being patient with us through this process. It certainly has been a process, but we are always moving forward, even if it is a step at a time.

Sugary 🍬

Hoop Dreams

I’m not a sports fan.

Never have been.  I didn’t grow up with it, no little league or intramural sports and certainly no parental fanaticism to emulate. My dad’s only interest was my academic excellence and for him that was the only full contact bloodsport he was interested in.

Once grown, physical activity (aside from dancing) was never something I sought out much so it was never really a part of me at any stage of my life.

I arrived in New York City 26 years ago to the day today, just a year after the Knicks reached the finals but came up short ushering in the current 27 year drought...now finally broken.

Since that time, I’ve experienced this collective annual affliction of anguish and anxiety that seemed to grip the city when it came to our beloved Knickerbockers.

It was frustration, it was heartache at times, a real sense of depression/PTSD…ultimately though, it was love.

The kind of love that you have when you love something or someone so much that you can’t bear the thought of seeing them fail so you sign up year after year hoping the tide will turn.

But you take your licks and you keep on movin’.

THAT is the price of admission into this town…

THAT is what it takes to continue surviving in this town.

THAT is the cost of your very own “New York story”.

And so that’s why I knew…the Knicks getting into the finals wasn’t just about basketball…

…it was about New York culture itself.

So for me, this realization meant that no matter what, I had to participate in this moment.

Game 1

I decided to start my finals experience off with a slightly more intimate vibe, joining The Bench’s viewing party.

By intimate I mean about 100 or so people…after all this is STILL a decent sized watch party.

Immediately as I walked into the room you could already sense an energy about the place.  People were locked in. Jerseys were the sartorial standard and every other back I stared at had “11 Brunson” emblazoned on it.

There was a lone Spurs diehard working the room with a peerless zeal but despite his best efforts he could neither fight the tide of enthusiasm for the home team, nor ultimately could he fight the evidence of what was to come.

What followed was poetry in motion as this band of alleged “misfits” who the majority of critics and influencers discounted collectively and independently across countless content over the years fought for every single point thousands of miles away in hostile territory and eventually won the night. 

To me, the Knicks represented everyone who'd been told they weren’t good enough but held strong past the criticism and delivered for their people against all odds.  

It was an evening that woke the city up.

Knicks up 1-0.

Game 2

Even before Game 2 the critics were out in full force saying it was highly unlikely that the Knicks would take two games in a row and at an away game at that.

Whether that was true or not was beyond my pay grade as a sports enthusiast, but what I did know, is if the Knicks DID win, it would be pandemonium.

So I decided that if I wanted to feel what that was like, my next experience would have to be right inside the belly of the beast.  

I chose the beer garden at The Standard that hosted over 500 people for the watch party.

As I entered, the pungent smell of beer, bratwurst and bro-ism created this feverish atmosphere of frenetic anticipation.

The game began similar to the first game, but unlike Game 1 the Spurs came from behind in the 4th quarter and took the lead with minutes remaining on the clock.  You could see the vibe of the crowd shift to an anxious din. 

And then, just as all hope seemed to be lost, the Knicks rallied and in the final minute of the game defied the odds once more.

The moment the Knicks claimed their 2-0 lead, you could feel the benches, walls and eardrums shaking.  Glasses broke en mass, beer rained from the skies in scattered showers and everyone burst into a sea of hugs, tears and jubilant mania.

It was quite a moment to be present for. 

On the way home, I swung by MSG to check out the scene, and it was a full blown celebration.

That entire area was awash in blue and orange lights complementing  the endless sea of Knicks merch on parade that dotted the entire landscape between 35th and 32 street on both 6th and 7th avenues.

It was clear the anticipation for homecoming for Game 3 had already begun...

Taking this all in, what this entire series represents is the tenacity, the grit and the faith of a diverse but unified populace that never gives up.  

That crackle of energy that permeates the bedrock and courses through the veins of every citizen of Gotham was palpable.

It honestly doesn’t matter if you’re not a sports fan.  The only thing that matters is that you’re a part of the fabric of NYC…

Which is something everyone can participate in. 

So as we look ahead with hopeful hearts, I encourage every available New Yorker to contribute to this energy…it’s good for the city, it’s good for your fellow citizen, and it’s good for your soul.

It’s easy, I’ll show you….simply stand up, pump either hand skyward, and repeat after me…

“Let’s go, Knicks! Let’s go, Knicks! Let’s go, Knicks!”

PS.

Before tipoff, I did something that I’d never done before…

…I placed a bet on Kalshi for the Knicks to win Game 1.  And also Game 2.

Was it coming from an informed position, fan instinct or some understanding of what the expert analysis was saying?

Fuck no.

In fact, at the time I made the bet, Knicks only had a 22% chance of winning Game 1 and 36 % chance of winning Game 2 based on market predictions.

It was obviously not about making money, but the way I thought about it was that since I didn’t have a personal fan’s stake in the game, I’d buy some skin in the game as a symbolic gesture of support…I told myself it was, “the people’s bet”. 

Sure, kinda foolish, but whatever…I love me some “against all odds” romanticism…my own life has been peppered with those kinds of moments and there’s nothing quite like it when any of these moments pan out.

Well…well…well…

Sugary 🍬

Celebrity Autobiography

Sometimes the funniest material in the world doesn’t need to be written...

…it just needs to be read out loud…

word for word.

That’s the remarkably simple premise behind Celebrity Autobiography, the long-running cult comedy phenomenon now making its first ever full-length Broadway run.  

Created by Eugene Pack and co-developed with Dayle Reyfel, the show transforms autobiographical excess into pure entertainment. 

Some segments feature solo performances, while others cleverly mash together multiple memoirs (the creative team allegedly read through over 300 memoirs to find the natural through lines that intersect the public accounts) to recreate legendary celebrity feuds, romances, and the contradictory “he said, she said” accounts from the annals of Hollywood history. 

These completely unadulterated and many times unintentionally absurd excerpts range from the deep overshares, to the wildly self-serious contemplations of some of our most revered icons.

Ultimately, what it reveals is how remarkably flawed many of them actually are…by way of their own words.

You can’t make this stuff up, then again you don’t have to because the comedic gold writes itself.

They say never meet your heroes…

…instead eavesdrop on them as if they had an unshakable bout of Tourette’s in public.

It’s campy, theatrical, and delightfully chaotic in the best possible way.

Paired with the cycling autobiographies are a rotating cast of beloved actors, comedians, and performers make guest appearances to comprise each show’s lineup which keeps things fresh. 

The result is part staged reading, part roast, and part masterclass in comedic timing.

The particular performance I attended, Ralph Macchio and Mario Caton were among the guest appearances that are partaking in this theatrical romp.

As I understand it, over 30 actors and comedians signed on to carry this show through to its early September conclusion.

Names like Matthew Broderick, Billy Porter, Ken Jeong, Kathy Griffin, Molly Shannon, Kenan Thompson, and Chloe Fineman are announced mainstays with additional surprise guest appearances planned.

As was my experience, it’s mainly hit with the possibility of an occasional miss kind of show.  It’s as unpredictable as the celebrated subjects that are the main features of this show.

It seems celebrity itself produces its own strange form of performance art. And somewhere in between, the audience gets to laugh at the wonderfully human tendency to take ourselves just a little too seriously…

…maybe a LOT too seriously.

Sugary 🍬

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Thank you for taking the time to read to the end!

I hope you found something inspiring and meaningful in my content and until next time, explore the possibilities of NYC.

-Sugary

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PS. Don’t be shy and hit reply and tell me how you’re doing!