How the Knicks Can Teach Us About Greatness

How the Knicks Can Teach Us About Greatness

The Sixth Man Way and Why the Courage to Play Your Role Matters More Than Ever

Rabbi Daniel Cohen and Brian Kriftcher

This article emerged from a lunch conversation between Rabbi Daniel Cohen and Brian Kriftcher about leadership, character, and teamwork. It also reflects themes explored in Rabbi Cohen's forthcoming book, Rising Higher: The Sixth Man Way of Faith, Character, and Calling, developed in dialogue with athletes, coaches, and leaders, including Allan Houston, whose friendship and partnership have helped shape the project from its earliest stages.

Madison Square Garden is shaking. Twenty thousand people are on their feet. The ball is in Jalen Brunson's hands, and everyone in the building anticipates that he will take the shot.

What inspires us is not that Brunson wants the moment. Truly great players always want the ball when the game is on the line. What is remarkable is that every one of Brunson’s teammates seems completely comfortable allowing him to have it.

In an age when everyone wants to be the star, the New York Knicks are succeeding because their players understand something much more profound: achieving greatness is not about demanding the spotlight individually; itis about serving the greater mission of what’s in the best interest of the team.

A recent lunch conversation about the Knicks quickly evolved into something larger. As we discussed Brunson's leadership, Karl Anthony-Towns’ self-sacrifice, OG Anonoby’s versatility, and Josh Hart's relentless effort — in fact,  the chemistry of the overall team — we found ourselves talking less about basketball and more about life.

Brunson is the closer. When the game is on the line, there is no confusion about who should take the shot. But what has made the Knicks’ run this post-season so special — captivating the hearts of those in and out of NYC — is not simply Brunson's talent. It is the willingness of everyone around him to embrace their own assignment with equal commitment.  Being stars at their roles!

Josh Hart sets the emotional tone. He dives for loose balls, battles for rebounds against bigger players, and does countless things that never appear on a highlight reel. OG Anunoby quietly accepts one of the hardest jobs in basketball, guarding the opposing team's best player night after night. Karl-Anthony Towns has discovered something many people spend a lifetime pursuing: how to contribute more while focusing less on himself.  Doing what is best for the team has made him a bigger “star” than he ever was focusing on his individual statisitcs. In New York, he has flourished not by demanding the spotlight but by helping the team succeed.

Each player is different. Each role is different.  Yet together their contributions far exceed the sum of the individual parts.

The Knicks are admired in part because they are successful, and they are successful because everyone knows this role.

That observation led to an insight that has stayed with us: the way you do anything is likely the way you do everything.

Character is not a switch that suddenly turns on when pressure arrives. The athlete who performs with discipline in the fourth quarter usually learned discipline long before tipoff. The executive who leads with integrity during a crisis typically practiced integrity when nobody was watching. The parent who raises resilient children often built that resilience through thousands of small decisions over many years.

The habits you have when it doesn’t matter are the habits you have when it matters most.  Performance reveals formation. It does not create it.

A young parent once asked the renowned educator Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch when the right time was to begin educating a child.

"How old is your child?" he asked.

"Three."

"You have already missed the best three years."

His point was simple: character formation begins long before anyone notices. Championship teams are built the same way. So are great families. So are meaningful lives.

During our conversation, Brian shared a story about his father that has stayed with us.

His daughter occasionally repeats phrases that remind him of lessons he learned growing up. The interesting part, he reflected, is that he is no longer sure whether his father actually said those exact words.

"Maybe he did," Brian said. "Maybe he didn't. Maybe he simply lived them."

Then he added something profound.

"It doesn't really matter."

A few moments earlier, Brian had made another observation.

"The way you do anything is likely the way you do everything."

In many ways, the two ideas are inseparable.

Character is not something we turn on for important moments. It is revealed in how we handle ordinary moments. Long before children remember our words, they absorb our habits. Long before teammates trust our leadership, they observe our consistency.

The deepest lessons are often not taught; they are caught.

Culture is rarely built through speeches. It is built through habits.

Years later, people may forget what we said, but they remember how we lived. They remember what we celebrated, what we sacrificed for, what we tolerated, and what we stood for.

Great teachers, parents, coaches, and leaders understand this instinctively. Their influence extends beyond the lessons they teach because their lives reflect the values they believe to be important. Over time, the message and the messenger become inseparable. The values they live become the values others remember.

This is why so many of the athletes featured in Rising Higher speak less about championships and more about parents, mentors, faith, and daily disciplines. Before there was public success, there was private formation. Before there was applause, there was repetition. Before there was achievement, there was identity.

One of the most fascinating aspects of this Knicks team is that many of its players seem grounded in something deeper than basketball itself. Their confidence does not appear rooted in ego. Their willingness to sacrifice suggests they know who they are independent of what they do.

That distinction matters.

Grant Hill once shared a lesson his mother taught him: Do not fear failure. Fear success.

Success becomes dangerous when it convinces us that achievement is our identity.

Many lives are not destroyed by failure. They are destroyed by success that goes to their heads.

The healthiest leaders understand that achievement is a platform, not a destination.

Perhaps that is why this Knicks team has captured the imagination of an entire city.

Walking into Madison Square Garden today feels like entering one of the few remaining spaces in American life where people still gather around a common purpose. Democrats sit next to Republicans. Religious and secular. Young and old. People from every background and every neighborhood.

For a few hours they stop arguing and start cheering.

They become part of something larger than themselves.

Human beings are hungry for that.

We want to belong to something bigger than ourselves. We want to contribute to something meaningful. We want our lives to matter.

The Knicks are winning because talented individuals have chosen a collective mission over personal agendas.

That principle extends far beyond Madison Square Garden.

A family thrives when its members ask, "What can I contribute?"

A community flourishes when people focus less on recognition and more on responsibility.

A nation becomes stronger when its citizens rally around shared values and common purpose.

And life becomes meaningful when we stop measuring ourselves by applause and start measuring ourselves by fulfillment.

The Knicks may or may not win a championship.

Sports history tells us that eventually every season ends.

But the lesson of this team is already clear.

Greatness is not built when everyone demands to be the star.

Greatness emerges when people discover their role, embrace it fully, and commit themselves to a purpose larger than themselves.

The courage to play your role is not a basketball lesson.

It is a life lesson.

We live in a culture that teaches people to build audiences.

The Knicks remind us to build teams.

We live in a culture that rewards visibility.

The Sixth Man Way honors contribution.

We live in a culture that asks, "How many people are looking at me?"

Character asks, "How many people am I lifting?"

The scoreboard measures points.

Life measures impact.

And the greatest teams—and the greatest people—understand the difference.