These playoffs have been the ultimate back-and-forth for the young Spurs. When they win, experience doesn’t matter, and talent and comradery trumps all. When they lose, all the conversations about inexperience start up again. By now, it may finally be impossible to ignore, as the list of their failures to execute in the clutch in the Finals has them on the brink of elimination, that their position has been entirely self inflicted. The silver lining is that there are lessons to take from this situation that will help everyone involved with the team to be more prepared in the future.
I continue discussing the wild ebbs and flows of this series with Russell Richardson of Posting and Toasting in this series of Fraternizing with the Enemy conversations in which a ln unlikely friendship has grown so fast and firm that it will certainly endure beyond however these Finals conclude. If you missed them, go back and check out parts parts 1, 2, 3 and 4.
J.R.
My friend, I think I can call you my friend. We’ve spoken on the phone. We’ve exchanged self deprecating remarks. We’ve laughed at each other‘s expense. Yeah, although our friendship isn’t as long as others I have, I think it’s safe to call you my friend. I just hope I can keep you as a friend.
I’m not changing the stakes of this. I hope I’m not changing anything at all. But I am going to admit one of the basic assumptions of our friendship, and more largely an assumption that lies under every Fraternizing with the Enemy post and series I’ve ever done: this can’t end well for both of us.
I’ve gone on record to say that the Game 4 loss will be good for the team in the long run. It might even be great. I’d rather that they lose playing stupid & learn to play smart over time, than to develop the long-term bad habits that come from expecting your talent to bail you out. Rule number one for sports with a clock: when you’re up big, the clock is your primary enemy, not the opponent. Under those circumstances, slow it down, work the ball inside, get twos & FTs. Win. When you’re in the bonus, all of that goes double.
I mean, the team kept on shooting threes early in the clock. Sometimes they even avoided driving an open lane just because a three-pointer was open. As I was saying over and over to the point that I’m sure my parents (who I watched the game with as my family is still in Colorado) were tired of hearing me say “slow it down and work the ball inside,” and the team steadfastly refused to do that.
If no one on the team knows this or can get it across to the rest of the team, then suffering the embarrassment of giving up the biggest comeback in NBA Finals history would be worth it, as long as everyone learns from it. I hated the outcome of this game, and hopefully the team hates it enough to extract every bit of improvement they can from it.
All that said, I need to quote a friend of mine who is fond of saying, “The Spurs have yet to lose a lost game this postseason in which they haven’t shot themselves in the foot.” I believe that the above is true, and I also think that since this amazingly talented, phenomenally confident, outrageously resilient team has spent all season doing things that no team has ever done before while setting all kinds of records, they could still come back from trailing 3-1. That’s as ridiculous as it is scary, but I think it’s completely true.
And that is why I started this section the way that I did … because if that happens, I had to make sure that we’re both prepared for it so that we can remain friends.
And now it’s time for me to talk about how amazingly awesome that game was. I have no attachment to the city of New York or its residents, but when the comeback was happening, I had the strangest thing happen to me. I found that I was actually happy for the people celebrating at the potential demise of my team. Not the celebs or anything outrageous like that, but the wide shots of the arena all cheering and celebrating at the unhinged and bizarre event that was unfolding in front of them and in which they were participating — I felt good for them.
It was so surreal to have that level of empathy in a moment like that. I’m not saying I had an out of body experience and I’m definitely not going to claim enlightenment. It wasn’t anything that felt particularly spiritual or benevolent or unnerving. I just was able to be happy for people being happy that I didn’t and don’t care about at all. It was so strange and yet I definitely recommend it. It’s the kind of thing that takes the edge off losing, for sure.
R.R.
Of the many surprises this postseason, two were the biggest. One was to discover that the Knicks are the team of destiny, chosen by the universe to finally win a championship, hallelujah, amen. The other was to strike up such a rich and enjoyable friendship with an SBNation colleague who, until these Finals, I knew by name only. Thank you again for initiating this incredibly rewarding collaboration. I expect our friendship will extend far past the Knicks’ victory in Game Five.
And if the improbable occurs and your Spurs win three straight, our friendship will stand—but given that I will surely be comatose, you might find it unfulfilling and one-sided.
Now for the game. Whattagame. There have been numerous times this postseason when I have stumbled to bed, disbelieving what I’d seen and convinced that this—THIS—was the greatest game ever played. But then the Knicks do it again.
It had an inauspicious start. Mike Brown’s gameplan for tonight was going to feature Karl Anthony Towns. Mitch Johnson knew it, which is why Fox went right at him on the opening possession. The refs called a questionable brush-by foul, which clearly benefited your side. Then on the other end, they overturned a Wembanyama foul that could go either way because of mutual hooking. It went against Towns, which seemed wrapped in an NBA bow. The card attached read, “Let’s see what New York does with KAT’s hands tied behind his back and his big butt on the bench. Bwa-ha-ha! Love, Adam”.
Meanwhile, someone Manchurian Candidate-d the Knicks in the first half. There were reports of a shadowy figure in a trenchcoat who blew a whistle on the concourse. After that, the whole team turned into zombies.
So the Knicks were not playing with their usual physicality because they expected a whistle. Making matters worse (or better, depending on your rooting interest) was San Antonio’s historic first-half shooting.
With the fouls piling up, Mike Brown had to go deep into his bench. How excited were you to see yer old pal Jeremy Sochan take the floor? Having watched a little of Sochan’s game, I suspect you were salivating.
On the subject of benches: yours scored 28 points. Brown employed seven reserves and they contributed 12 points. Worse (or better, depending on your rooting interest), Hart and Bridges combined for 13 points on 13 shots in 61 minutes. That means the Knicks offense basically was composed of Brunson, Anunoby, and a smattering of Towns. And still…an epic turnaround…how??
Everyone knows that the only way to break a Manchurian Candidate trance is to evoke the powers of the Wu-Tang Clan. Lucky for us, they were booked as the halftime entertainment! Thus explains the historic comeback that undid the historic first-half shooting. All credit belongs with the Wu.
Btw, to hold the Spurs to 14 points in the third quarter was impressive. To then limit them to 16 in the fourth? Astounding.
Someone in your Game Thread (I was lurking!) wrote, “Brunson is going to win the MVP, but OG has been the Knicks’ best player.” That is one hundred percent accurate. OG has been the most consistent player all postseason, full stop. His defense tonight was incredible, and his block on Fox not only kept two critical points off the board, it set up the final possession—where he scored the two winning points. I’ve had an Anunoby jersey in the shopping cart all season long. It’s time for me to checkout.
The Knicks executed their last scoring play to perfection. OG inbounded the ball and took off running—it helped that no one guarded him, so he had an unencumbered runway. Meanwhile, Brunson knew that OG was coming in case of a miss and the timing was critical. Shoot too early and OG would not arrive in time; wait too long, and there might be nothing left on the clock for the tip-in. Oh, and he had to release high enough to clear Wemby’s reach. I’d estimate the likelihood of that play working successfully at 10%, or 1-in-10 times. Which was still more probable than a 29-point turnaround!
My wife, newly interested in the sport, said, “This must be so painful for the creepy bald man.” (She meant Thibs.) She’s right, I’ll bet Tom took this one hard. He was supposed to be on the sideline in the Finals, not that smiley Mike Brown. Grumbling to himself, Tom stops the recording on the VCR and rewinds it. He will re-watch from the beginning with a fresh notebook, keeping track of all Mitch Johnson’s mistakes.
There were a number of gaffes for Thibs to tally. You mentioned a few of them (quick trigger, forsaking the easy buckets, etc.). The Spurs were so far ahead, they could have just committed shot-clock violations throughout the second half to kill time and still would have secured the win. Where do you place the most blame for this collapse? Mitch? Or the players who kept chucking?
J.R.
When it’s time for a post event analysis on a simple disaster (you know, like the Titanic or the Hindenburg), you might be able to place a percentage of blame with a number of the participants in place. But when you’re talking about something like a 29 point lead that evaporates in a game as big as finals Game 4, there’s no such thing as more or less blame. Everyone gets all of it. Which is nice, because they can share. And as everyone knows, sharing is caring.
The thing is, there was something like 17 different individual, group, and systemic failures that happened in order for the Spurs to blow that lead, and if any of those failures doesn’t happen then the Spurs win. Parceling out blame when there are so many key moments that were butter-fingered is a Sisyphisean task. There’s no end to it.
If everyone gets the blame, then everyone improves 1%, and then hopefully it never happens again. For me there is enough even if the team doesn’t come back to win it all this year. For others, I know that talk rubs them the wrong way.
Some people hear this kind of talk and equate it with a lack of caring, and here’s my response to that. I don’t get to choose whether San Antonio wins or loses, I only get to decide how I’m going to respond to it.
That choice is mine and I choose to believe that the Spurs can (like Wemby said he would after G2) take this on the chin, dust themselves off, and learn from it to go on to greatness. I’m not saying that they must lose this series in order to learn how to play with a modicum of humility and a dose of BBIQ, because teams have come back from 3-1 and this Spurs team could make the necessary changes and take it this year. I’m saying that IF they don’t I will see it as a good thing for them even if there’s no guarantee that they ever make it back.
My point is that my choosing to think that there can be a positive to their losing doesn’t mean I’ll assume that they will make it back, nor does it mean that I WANT them to lose. It simply means that I’m continuing to believe in this core truth: one of the best human traits is to find the good amidst the bad and use a negative event as fuel to power eventual triumph. That’s the story I want to tell myself and others, and I refuse to abandon myself again to wallowing in the pain of loss instead of lifting my head up and expecting better things going forward. I’ve lived the other way and I won’t do it any more. It was miserable.
Being down 3-1 isn’t insurmountable, but if it turns out to be too much for this team this year, then I choose to view it as an opportunity and not a hopeless thing. Because this team isn’t behind in this series because they’re not good enough to win. They’re down after four games and on the brink of elimination because they haven’t valued every possession; because they weren’t willing to avoid the easy three and drive; because they haven’t harnessed their immense talent and worked the problem in front of them step by step before celebrating and taunting and reveling in their opponent’s certain defeat; because they’ve yet to learn that some teams don’t have any give-up in them and will come back to beat you if given the chance.
R.R.
We see it similarly: everyone shares responsibility for the loss. Recency bias tends to cast the last mistakes in the worst light, and Fox has caught flak for not running out the clock. But Wemby missed 16 shots and three free throws. Champagnie shot only three times in the second half, and Castle shot once. Vassell was a team-worst -28 plus-minus after intermission. The team committed two turnovers before halftime and nine after. Mitch Johnson mismanaged the game and could have done more to slow the opponent’s momentum.
The Fox layup attempt will live forever because of the timing, but it capped a disastrous stretch of execution. The play distilled San Antonio’s biggest problem in this series, which is trying to win spectacularly when simple game management would have been enough. Sometimes boring is best, boys. (I hope that’s true; it’s one of my defining characteristics.)
Where we differ is that I (unashamedly biased) give more credit to New York. At halftime, Brown didn’t show them any video clips, but chose to let the players discuss the situation among themselves. They decided to try for singles rather than home runs, and Alvarado was a cheerleader, encouraging them to build momentum that could carry over to Game Five.
While the Knicks bunted to get on base, San Antonio scored just 14 points in the third quarter, settled for jumpers, stopped getting into the paint, and never adjusted when OG Anunoby took on the Fox assignment.
Brunson led the comeback, finishing with 36 points and seven assists. He and Anunoby repeatedly delivered big baskets as the Knicks erased a 15-point deficit in the final period. Mike Brown deserves credit, too, for leaning on Alvarado and switching Anunoby onto Fox.
Alvarado was quietly huge. The Knicks needed a second ball handler to take pressure off Brunson, and Deuce McBride has been a dud in the playoffs. Alvarado filled that need, made a couple of big shots, and brought relentless defensive intensity, using all five of his fouls. They wouldn’t have come back without him.
This has become the Knicks’ identity. It was their second massive comeback of the postseason after rallying from 22 down against Cleveland in the Eastern Conference Finals. They have repeatedly taken on a putrid stench of death and somehow risen like Lazarus.
As for the recurring theme of San Antonio building big leads and failing to protect them—with maturity, they will learn to stop doing that.
Take it from a long-suffering Knicks fan: the productive response is collective accountability and improvement. If everyone learns from the failure, the loss can have value regardless of the season’s outcome. It’s 100% true: fans cannot control wins and losses; they can only control how they interpret and respond to them. Finding meaning and growth in defeat is more healing than picking at a scab.
It’s time for my prediction, I suppose. Given that the Knicks already won twice at Frost Bank Center and have the wind at their back from Wednesday’s win, it’s a wrap. The basketball fan in me would love a competitive game, and maybe even a sixth contest before the season concludes. As a Knicks fan, my heart can’t handle any more stress. Saturday night, the Knicks win, they end the 53-year drought, and I still get to jam with Wilco on Tuesday. What say you?
to be continued …
