We needed Tyre along on this trip.
A few months ago, Robin and I and our friend, Robert Byrd, planned a trip to New York City to take in a Broadway show and a couple of Yankees games. Tickets to "Death of a Salesman" were readily available into August. For the Yanks, though, we wanted to avoid the raucous crowds that show up for tilts against Boston's Red Sox. Fans who show up for the other Sox — Chicago's — are, usually, fewer and better behaved.
Following the NBA finals, however, we could not have known that our trip dates would land us smack in the middle of Knicks mania. Gotham was decked out and electric for its newly crowned cagers.
Over time, Robert has honed the art of traveling smartly, and thanks to sharp-eyed early purchasing, found a great deal on some of the best seats for "Salesman" at the Winter Garden Theatre. Nathan Lane, Laurie Metcalf, and a fine cast delivered, too, with emotional performances that, I'm sure, would have brought a smile to writer Arthur Miller.
Most of the play's action took place near our stage-left seats. Robin was pleased that we were close enough to either tug on Lane's sleeve, or to shake Metcalf's hand.
Matchups between a couple of first-place major league squads delivered, too, as the Yankees and White Sox split a couple games. The Bronx Bombers pounded the Chisox, 10-5, on June 17. The next day, the Sox proved why they have gone from worst to first recently as fine pitching and a late pinch grand slam by Anthony Benintendi quelled the Yanks. Benintendi's pinch slam, by the way, was a rarity as less than 150 of them have occurred in the big leagues since 1900.
June 18, though, belonged to New York's new darlings as the Knicks were feted with a tickertape parade through downtown Manhattan en route to a greeting at city hall by Mayor Zohran Mamdani.
I was sniffing a story as I led Robin and Robert on a nearly 30-block jaunt toward city hall in what became a futile search for the celebration. My feet felt as if they had not experienced such a workout since Uncle Sam sent me on a 25-mile hoof during infantry school. What I can endure in my seventh decade is much different from what I could do at 19.
That was when we needed my friend, Dobbins Heights Town Clerk, and mayor pro-tem, Tyre Holloway. Tyre is a native Brooklynite who grew up in Dobbins Heights. After a friendship developed over 14 years at Champion Ford, I'm convinced that a part of Tyre's heart and soul — as well as some family — remains in the Big Apple.
Always upbeat and ready with a genuine smile, Tyre never gave up on his beloved Knicks — even during some woeful seasons. I was a high school junior when the team last won it all, led by such lights as DeBusschere, Frazier, Lucas, Monroe, Jackson, Reed, and future U.S. Senator Bill Bradley. The U.S. had just ended its active involvement in the Vietnam War; and, the Senate's Watergate hearings were about to commence.
I recall my amazement, on multiple occasions, as I listened to conversations between Tyre and then-shop foreman Dan Ritter over several seasons. A couple of NBA aficionados, it seemed those two knew histories, stats, strengths and weaknesses of each player. Name almost any one, and either Tyre or Dan could fill you in on the player's abilities in the high post, low post, or in the paint.
Who was currently hitting his 3-pointers, or missing his free throws? Just ask one of them.
I was little surprised and very understanding, then, when I spied Tyre's Facebook post after the Knicks finished off San Antonio's Spurs for the title. Those were moments of pure joy.
Over my years at the dealership, with Tyre as parts manager, he dispatched me many times, usually on out-of-town treks, to deliver parts to — or fetch them from — other dealerships. Thanks to Tyre, I can still confidently find my way to quite a number of shops within a 100-mile radius.
During relaxed times there, we bonded over a mutual love of history and politics, college degrees from (the current) UNC-Pembroke, and of course, sports. After Tyre was first elected to local office about 13 years ago, his enthusiasm for public service was evident. With his love of people and municipal administration, I figured that Tyre was destined for broader horizons.
Tyre would have been in his element with the three of us in the big city. A visit there is never dull. Just muscle your way through the humanity on any city block, and you will learn that the English language is merely a part of the cacophony. For moments, the sounds in your ears may transport you to Havana, Guatemala, the Caribbean, or as far as away as Ghana, or Eastern Europe.
Negotiating traffic is not for the faint of heart — either driving or on foot. Watch those bicyclers, especially. Your nose will get a workout, too. If the city ever declares an official aroma, honestly, I believe it should be that of cannabis.
But there are two reasons why I could never be a resident of New York City — and not for the usual ones you might expect from a native Southerner: the plethora of buck-and-a-half pizza slice joints, and Junior's Cheesecake. Give me a month in Gotham and I'd just as well toss out the bathroom scales!
Tyre first alerted me to the signature temptations found at Junior's. Surprisingly, the franchise hasn't branched further than five locations in NYC and Connecticut. There was a fourth setting at our table, there, a few days ago that Tyre would have filled nicely.
If you are headed to Yankee Stadium and are a bit hungry, it's easy to avoid ball park concessions prices. Just pop into the little pizza shop on 161st Street across from the iconic Bronx ball yard. Single $1.50 slices were enough for each of us. I'd dare you to make your way through two.
It was a less-than-keen sense of direction, and maybe some poor timing, that caused Robert, Robin, and me to miss the big parade on June 18. There was no shortage of excited folks bedecked in Knicks gear, though.
After his lifelong dedicated wait for this moment, I'm confident Tyre would have led us there.
Columnist Douglas Smith lives and writes in Rockingham.
