They Got That Dog In Them: The Knicks’ Dog Era and Why It Actually Matters

As the New York Knicks awaited word on their Eastern Conference Finals opponent, Josh Hart recently remarked that the team was chasing “whatever makes good vibes,” a phrase that feels increasingly revealing when viewed through the lens of this playoff run. During that same press conference, Hart appeared cradling a friend’s bernedoodle, Bucky, while calmly answering questions about postseason basketball. Inside Madison Square Garden in May, where pressure tends to consume everything around it, the image stood out. One of the emotional leaders of the roster appeared grounded, relaxed by something uncomplicated — a dog.

That sense of grounding appears woven throughout the Knicks’ locker room culture. Jalen Brunson’s dogs are a familiar presence around the team facility, bringing warmth and normalcy into one of the league’s most intense environments. Mitchell Robinson, whose game is built on force and physicality, often shares quieter moments with his golden retriever, Nash, and has also revealed a broader love for animals, including horses. Mikal Bridges even uses a photo with his dog as his Instagram profile image, subtly presenting that relationship as part of his identity away from basketball. Taken individually, these details may seem small. Together, they begin to reveal a team culture benefiting from the human-animal bond.

Perhaps that is why the familiar sports phrase about athletes having “that dog in them” feels particularly fitting when applied to this Knicks roster.

In sports, athletes are often praised for having “that dog in them,” a phrase synonymous with toughness, resilience, and competitive instinct. With this Knicks team, though, the expression feels less metaphorical than usual. The bond many of these players share with their dogs has quietly become part of the emotional identity of the roster itself, creating a sense of steadiness that appears to carry from their personal lives directly onto the court.

Even Miles “Deuce” McBride leaned directly into the symbolism. In a recent Instagram post, McBride posed with a basketball surrounded by dogs, captioning the image: “They say I got that dog in me…” The playful post encapsulated the emotional makeup of this Knicks team.

Those familiar with the power of the human-animal bond can recognize its influence in the way these players carry themselves on and off the court. Away from basketball, many of these players project that same emotional presence in the way they speak about family, interact with children, embrace community moments, and share glimpses of their personal lives. Like the people that love them, the dogs of the Knicks love their person, and that kind of unconditional steadiness has a way of shaping the emotional climate around the people who love them.

Maybe my theory sounds unconventional: that the Knicks’ playoff run is due, in part, to the unconditional love of and for their four-legged friends. The beloved dogs of the Knicks remain untouched by television narratives, social media criticism, and unnecessary emotional noise. Perhaps that is why so many Knicks choose to surround themselves with dogs during the most pressure-filled moments of their careers.

Maybe my theory sounds unconventional: that the Knicks’ playoff run is due, in part, to the unconditional love of and for their four-legged friends. But how can one ignore the way these Knicks carry themselves on and off the court and dismiss the possible correlation between their athletic prowess and their relationships with their dogs?

The deeper this postseason run goes, the harder it becomes to ignore the interconnectedness between this team’s emotional identity and the grounding presence of their canine companions. If the Knicks really do accomplish the unimaginable — knock on wood — fans may ultimately have the players’ dogs to thank in the end.

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