It’s a beloved New York pastime to divide New Yorkers into types. There are “real New Yorkers” and posers, New Yorkers who toast their bagels and those who don’t, Carries and Samanthas, die-hard Knicks fans and bandwagon ones.

The N.B.A. finals have revealed another city typology. There are devil-may-care fans who celebrate wins as they come, and there are the superstitious ones who at every turn think the Knicks are just one fate-tempting move away from disaster.

Count State Senator Zellnor Myrie, a Knicks fan, among the superstitious. He eschews watch parties and won’t buy any new Knicks gear until after the championship, fearing accidentally jinxing his team. “There is something pretty sacrosanct about making predictions,” Mr. Myrie said. “There’s too much built-in trauma to do anything that might tip the supernatural scales.”

Here’s the thing about sports superstitions: They can make even a whirlwind, party-fueled N.B.A. finals run feel less like jubilee and more like psychological torment. In New York City — home to some 8.6 million people with 860 million neuroses — the closer the Knicks are to victory, the more people succumb to magical thinking.

It’s a city of control freaks, a place that attracts people who want to seize their destinies, high rents and unaffordable meals be damned. So, with the dangling promise of a championship victory, fans are leaving nothing to fate. Some turn their backs to the television instead of watching; many wear the same sweaty shirt or hat through game after game.

As anyone who has seen “The Devil Wears Prada” or “Girls” can attest, there is something intrinsically New York about chasing greatness while detesting every single second along the way.