Writings

Long Road To The Brass Ring
by: Len Clark

It had been a tough game, and the fourth quarter was going to be even tougher, now that the season rested on it. At all three intermissions, it had been all tied up: 25-25, 53-53, 81-81.

At the beginning of the fourth quarter, we tried our small, quick line-up of me at point guard, Mason, and Smith at the forwards, Starks at the other guard spot, and Oakley in the middle. However, going up against their "slamma-jamma, in-your face" line-up with our five was a bad move, a really bad move.

They had opened up a 17-point lead on us, 109-92, when Coach Riley called for a twenty second time-out. He told us to turn up the press, our defensive strategy. To help, he swung me to the shooting guard spot, put Anthony at the point, Oakley and Mason at the forwards, and Ewing "in the paint" as center. This had been our starting line-up throughout the season.

The press caught them by storm. We went on a nineteen-to-nothing run with key three-pointers by, Anthony, Mason, and me. Now with 3:07 left in the , the score was 111-109 in our favor.

After our nineteen-point run, things got down to an exchange of baskets, 113-111, 115-113, 117-115 until, with :44 left on the clock, they hit a three pointer; they were up by one! Then our inbounds pass was stolen! They ran down the shot clock and then..... BULLS-EYE!! Another three-pointer! Coach Riley called another time-out. The situation was 25 seconds left, down by four, 121-117.

Coach Riley had a plan: "Get the ball out to the wings, look for the quick three, press the inbounds for a steal, and put up the winner."

We took the inbounds, and with 20 seconds left we crossed mid-court. I was desperately to shake off the defense. The clock was ticking: nineteen, eighteen, seventeen. I broke free and kicked out to the wings. Starks hit me with a pass. I set up with :12 left on the clock. I let it fly from "downtown." Bulls-Eye!! It went in! We're down by one!

This was the situation: 9.2 seconds left, they were up by one, 121-120. Coach Riley called another time-out. He told us, "If you want to win this championship, you have to steal the ball. Work for the steal. Do it now or we don't have a shot, or a championship."

Riley put Smith in to guard the inbounds man. He threw a long, high pass over mid-court. Four huge bodies leaped for the ball. It tipped between each of them, but no one could control it. Suddenly, it shot towards me. I picked it up, raced down the court, and tried to set up the winning shot, but I was fouled before I could let her fly. That foul put them over the foul limit, however, so I was given a one-and-one foul shot opportunity.

The pressure was on. A guaranteed one from the line, two if I made the first one, and no time left on the clock to set anything up in case I missed. If I did miss the first one, we go home empty-handed. If I make the first and miss the second, it's on to overtime and a possible loss. I make them both, and it's a champagne bath in the locker room. Like I said, the pressure was on.

I was at the line, pondering all of the probable consequences of the shot I was about to take. I set up, let the single most important free throw I'd ever taken or ever will take fly. I went in easily, almost too easily. It was the most important shot of my life, and yet it was the easiest shot I made all night.

Now, making the second shot was all that stood between five more minutes of gruelling overtime basketball and another championship banner hanging from the roof of the Garden. It was too crucial a shot to miss. The opposing coach called a time-out to "psyche me out." All throughout those two minutes, I told myself, "Don't worry, It's just like a thousand other shots you've taken before. No need to get nervous on yourself."

Back on the line for the second shot, I took a deep breath, bounced the basketball a couple of times, and then shot it. It hit the backboard, danced a long the rim, and then... it dropped in! The 20,000 fans in Garden went crazy. The reason? The Knicks were World Champions!

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