Well, look: We are nothing if not kind and generous souls here at Open Mike, so it’s probably best that you hear it from us:…
Well, look: We are nothing if not kind and generous souls here at Open Mike, so it’s probably best that you hear it from us:
Sunday night is going to stink.
If you are a Knicks fan, and if you are enjoying “The Last Dance” on ESPN, then you know that the inevitable is likely to happen with Sunday’s Parts 5 and 6 of the 10-part documentary. You are going to be transported back to Wednesday, June 2,1993, Eastern Conference finals, Madison Square Garden. The first time in their history the Knicks ever played a game in June.
Known eternally as “The Charles Smith Game.”
That isn’t entirely fair, of course. Yes, that game ended under the Knicks’ basket with the ball in Smith’s hands, accidentally, because first John Starks and then Patrick Ewing tried, too early in the shot clock, to force shots before passing off — Starks to Ewing, then Ewing to Smith. The Knicks were down 95-94 with just under 10 seconds to go.
Smith, 6-foot-10,230 pounds, is alone under the basket for a fraction of a second as the Garden, in full, frothy frenzy, waits to see him dunk the ball for a Knicks lead. Except, in the space of five harrowing, haunting seconds, five things happen:
Horace Grant blocks his first shot. Smith gets the rebound.
Michael Jordan strips him on his second try. Smith gets it back again.
Scottie Pippen blocks his third attempt. Smith gets it back again.
Pippen blocks Smith’s fourth shot.
Grant grabs the ball. He finds Jordan. Jordan finds B. J. Armstrong for the icing-on-the-cake layup at the buzzer that makes the final 97-94.
There are a slew of what-ifs that litter the nightmares of New York sports fans, and the worst of them are totally subjective and instantly recallable. But this game stands out simply because of what was lost by the Knicks’ mere inability to hold serve at a time when they were virtually invincible at home.
Because playing a game of sliding doors here, and playing forward a parallel universe in which Smith is able to lay (or slam) the ball in, is almost too wickedly masochistic to ponder if you’re a Knicks fan waiting 47 years for a championship, and who still has a hard time believing that splendid stretch of the ’90s didn’t yield a title.
