How I Saved the Heat

Let's get this straight. I hate the Heat. Like any fan of hoops, I have a soft spot for D-Wade, but I still hate the Heat. When I was fortunate enough to get the number 2 pick in the NBA Live 2006 dynasty draft, the New York Knicks selected LBJ. Wade would have fit in well, but no. No Heat on my bench. Shaq? He'll always be the man to me. But the Heat? How I hate the Heat.

I do not like them, Sam I am.
I do not like green eggs and ham.

When the Mavs popped into the finals a week or so ago, I was torn. Not only do I have an unfathomable disdain for the Heat. I also hate every single team from the Western Conference. In fact, with the exception of the Hawks, I hate just about every other team in the league. Why? I'm a Knicks fan. That's what we do. Probably. I forget what we do. It's been a long dark ride.

It's been an odd finals for me. I picked the Heat in 6. I upped games 1 and 2 from some Russo-Croatian server somewhere, which has probably flagged me on all sorts of terrorist-pedo ring CIA hitlists. The images were great. It's like what hoops would have been like if Communism had prevailed..

In a stark capitalist contrast, the World Cup has been displayed in high definition. I have one whole channel dedicated to it, which is a lovely change of pace. And damn, what a few days. Australia, in defiance of the Da Vinci Code, had proven that somewhere there is a football god and had come back from the depths of defeat. South Korea, bounced back against a shifty looking Togo squad. Ensuring that I would be able to sleep in my house once again. The US, downed by 3.

The beautiful game.

Like a drunken Sparkles, I found myself in full paradigm shift. I was wholly entertained. And I thought 'fuck it', I wasn't even going to watch game 3 of the NBA finals. I was done.

I logged into Yahoo at work to check the gamecast this morning. Saw the Heat up by a little and thought that maybe I'd been too hasty. Lunch break rolls around, I log in, see the Heat way down and I knew it was time to write off what had, up until that point, been a wonderful playoffs.

I grabbed my coat, descended 10 flights and walked around the block trying to work out what to eat. Onto the food court, I grab a roast beef roll and decide its too cold to eat out. I proceed to jet back through the Telstra building lobby (and it was full of children, probably couldn't see as high as I be) Nice lobby. Black, marble... plasma screens.

I glance up to see ESPN (or whatever the Australian equivalent is) and one quarter of game 3 left on the clock. I look over to a couple of guys standing there, nod the hoops nod, and start eating my roll. The Heat were down about 14. It was me, two guys, a roll and D-Wade. I'll give them one quarter.

And then it started. Hoops in glorious HDTV glory. With all the shitty streams and downloads I had suffered of late, I had forgotten how beautiful the game was. The Miami girls in the stands. All those gay white shirts. God damn, I'd even forgotten how ugly Van Horn was. But it was that beautiful Miami hardwood that got me, and watching the game as it is meant to be watched.

So I stood there, eating my sandwich. Hating the Heat and willing, just willing, Wade to take the game back. Take it back for hoops. Make it a playoffs. Make me a believer.

And slowly, step by step, drive after drive, the Heat started to chip away at the lead, despite leaving Dirk and Terry open countless times on the same fucking play. I willed Wade to drive. I jedi mind tricked Dirk into falling short on jumpers. I made people remember that Jason Terry is still Jason Terry, after all. GP even made a shot. Nice.

Minute by minute, people stopped walking to watch the game. We must have been 30 or 40 deep by the last few minutes. The Heat took the lead. And then Dirk went to the line. 90FT% in the playoffs. 1 for 2.

Wade rebounds and leaves a few ticks on the clock. Makes one. Misses one. One bad inbounds play and it was over. Heat win.

In one quarter, the Miami Heat had turned it back into a finals to watch. In doing so, they'd reminded me why I loved hoops.

In the seconds that followed, spell broken, people ran back to their offices. Late for work. A bunch of people strung out from staying up late watching soccer, had been distracted by a different type of ball. I walked back to my office, wondering what I was going to say to my boss, but more importantly I was thinking about game 4. I was thinking about hoops.

The beautiful game.