Swish.
The referee blew his whistle as coach Phil Jackson called a timeout. The score was now 85-71 with only forty seconds left in the fourth quarter. I suddenly yelled out, “Goddamn it! I don’t think there’s anything in the world that I hate more than the Celtics!”
Everything was going right. Despite falling behind 3-0 in the series, we fought back with our backs against the wall, game after game, to reach a Game 7. We were back in our own Madison Square Garden, in the Big City of Dreams, needing only one more win to reach the NBA Finals for the first time in thirty years. Back then, we had a legend in Patrick Ewing. This time, we had a legend in the making in Izzy Monroe.
Much like me, all of the other twenty thousand fans filling the…show more content… A legend who was also performing like it. Thirty-six-year-old NBA veteran Shad Tinsley was playing out of his mind, doing everything for the Celtics short of actually coaching the team. We all knew this was his last hurrah of sorts as he announced in the beginning of the year that this would be his last in the league. I was sitting under the lights in sold out Madison Square Garden for Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals to support my Knicks, the makings of what should’ve indisputably been the time of my life. This man set out everything he could to spoil…show more content… He then took the ball up on the fast break and finished off with a quick dunk. Now only down two with ten seconds left, Madison Square Garden was a perfect pandemonium.
After being inbounded the ball, Shad Tinsley was quickly intentionally fouled to stop the clock and sent to the free throw line. With every shot Izzy made after the time out, I felt as if a fraction of Shad disappeared from the NBA world. Each basket meant a step towards retirement and oblivion. As he approached the line, I could tell that he was no where near the legend he was before, even earlier in that game. Shad let the ball fly. Miss. Another part of Shad disappeared. The referee passed the ball back to Shad for his second free throw. The ball once again left his hands. Miss. Shad was now barely a former shell himself.
Izzy leaped above everyone and grabbed the rebound. He turned up and looked at the amount of time left. Seven seconds. Down by two. Izzy ran the ball up the court, squared up, and let the dreams of the big city fly. The twenty thousand in blue and orange simultaneously held their breaths and watched their dreams take its path.
3… 2…
