It’s rare to hear noise coming from the housing unit next to you in Shawangunk Correctional Facility, a sprawling maximum security prison in upstate New York. But last week, as the New York Knicks pulled off a 14-point comeback win against the San Antonio Spurs in Game 1 of the NBA Finals, ecstatic and unmistakable shouts traveled through the guard control center — what people inside call the “bubble” — separating housing units C-1 and C-2.
“If the noise overrides the bubble in between the two housing units, that means it’s extremely loud,” said Darrell Powell, who’s incarcerated on C-2.
For free and incarcerated Knicks fans alike, the jubilation was a long time coming. The team hasn’t appeared in a championship since 1999, when they lost, sure enough, to the Spurs. It’s been 53 years since their last title — one of the longer championship droughts among the four major men’s professional sports leagues.
Powell considers himself the biggest Knicks fan in New York’s prison system. In 2024, he wrote an essay, co-published in Prison Journalism Project and USA Today, about how the Knicks’ ups and downs over the last 20 years mirrored his own turbulent life path, which now finds him 25 years into a life-without-parole sentence for serving as a middleman in a murder-for-hire. The essay was widely read and eventually included in the prestigious anthology, “The Year’s Best Sports Writing 2025.”
“For more than 20 years,” Powell wrote, “I served one of the most miserable sentences while rooting for one of the most miserable teams in sports.”
On Wednesday, Powell watched the first half of the game in a dayroom at Shawangunk with about 20 other men, the majority of them Knicks fans.
At 10 p.m., Powell and the others were sent to their cells, where they watched the rest of the game on personal TVs. That didn’t dampen the atmosphere at all. As the Spurs built a 14-point lead midway through the third quarter, Knicks haters rejoiced, talking trash and celebrating their star player. One guy remarked that Victor Wembanyama, a 7-foot-4 phenom with an alien-shaped head and an out-of-this-world game, had invaded earth to take it over.
Slowly the Knicks chipped away at the lead. Powell said people started meowing, a sign of support of Knicks big man Karl Anthony-Towns, who’s nicknamed KAT and known around New York City as “the bodega cat.” Finally, when the Knicks pulled out their 105-95 victory, jokes flew about how a bodega cat and a pitbull — a nickname for Knicks star player Jalen Brunson — had squashed the alien invasion.
On Thursday morning, one man stopped by Powell’s cell to insist: “Y’all got lucky.” But nothing could disturb the euphoria coursing through most of his housing unit.
“Even the people that you didn’t even know was Knicks fans, now they talking about, ‘Go New York, go New York,’” Powell said.
Twice last week, I spoke to Powell about what life has been like since his acclaimed essay was published and what it feels like to be witness to this historic Knicks playoff run. The following has been edited for length and clarity.
— PJP Deputy Editor Wyatt Stayner
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Q: After your story came out, what kind of response did you get from other people in prison?
Darrell: So many people read the story, they felt what was being said. It didn’t just mirror my life. When they sat back and thought about it, it mirrored their lives as well, and their fandom. The reader was able to put themselves in that place, and the feeling becomes so much more enjoyable because it gives them hope and strengthens their belief system. They just didn’t know how to word it or say it, and we just so happened to have this story come out and it was the story of their life.
Q: So, are people talking about the games a lot, then, with each other?
Darrell: Oh, man. All day, every day. They argue — they almost coming to blows because of the passion. There are no true Spurs fans here, but they are people mesmerized by Wemby. He’s the shiny new toy so to speak. And there are plenty of Knicks haters, who get loud if the Knicks lose. And what starts off as trash talk about the Knicks or the game can quickly escalate to people challenging each other’s manhood, which can turn physical.
Q: What’s the vibe like in the prison right now? Are people excited?
Darrell: Everybody’s into it. However, you are still going to always have the disgruntled Knicks fans that are scared to be disappointed again, who are a little pessimistic about it. That way they can say, “I told you so. Here go the same old Knicks again.” And these kids that’re in prison now, the only thing they have witnessed is heartbreak with the Knicks over the years. They didn’t see it. They don’t believe it — or rather, until they see it, they ain’t going to believe it.
Q: Are you saying the younger people in the prison are more skeptical because they’ve never seen the Knicks be good?
Darrell: Yes. And then the older guys are skeptical because they’ve been disappointed for so long.
Q: What about the guards? Are they getting into the games too?
Darrell: They come into my cell every day. They all know I’m a fan — I wear it on my chest. Most of them are at that age where in their lifespan they have been disappointed as well. So they’re a little skeptical. But overall they’re rooting for the Knicks. And when they see me, all they say is, “Wow, how about them Knicks?” or “Let’s go Knicks.”
Q: It seems like so much of being a Knicks fan is about hope.
Darrell: It’s all about hope. And part of hope is sticking to the plan, having that resilience, being able to have the will to win. To be a winner takes work. It takes a lot of failure. Most winners weren’t born successful — they worked to become successful. They believe that this is going to happen. It’s just a matter of when it’s going to happen.
Q: Can you say a little more about your own game plan? What did you want before prison? I know that wasn’t part of your game plan.
Darrell: I wanted what everybody wants — a family, a good job, good life. And I had those things — a wife, a young daughter and a job working in New York City’s sanitation department. But one or two bad decisions can change your life. And in life, there’s no next game to make adjustments. But you can sit back and replay the game tape over time. That’s what I’ve done in prison over the last 26 or so years. I’ve analyzed my past and taken the time to understand my life and the good and bad contributions I’ve made to the world, and how I can be a better person.
Q: The optimism that you have for yourself — it sounds quite similar in a lot of ways to the optimism, the process and the progress that you speak about with the Knicks, too.
Darrell: Exactly. I don’t just tell this as a story, I live this. So the people around me can see it. Sometimes with some people, you have to do a little more explaining to them because, as far as the Knicks go, they’ve been disappointed for so long, they lose hope. With me, they say, “Oh, you were this guy before. You were the worst of what society’s seen.” Like the Knicks, I had to prove to them that I’m no longer that. I made bad decisions along the line, and I finally got it right. And when you finally get it right, you should be rewarded for it. In my case, the reward I’m hoping for is my freedom.
Q: The story was receiving so much attention at the time that it came out, and even in weeks after. And I’m sure maybe on some level, maybe your mind can go to: Is this a story that could potentially lead to clemency for me, or release from prison?
Darrell: I believe it’s going to happen this year. Because I’m sticking to the plan, I’m not veering off. I’m staying on course, doing the right thing. And that being said, I believe that the powers that be will see that I stayed the course, and that I’m worthy of being granted clemency or resentencing
