With two minutes left in the fourth quarter, the score was tied at ninety-eight.
The roar at Madison Square Garden reached its peak.
Twenty thousand people rose at once, their applause, cheers, and shouts merging into a torrent that echoed beneath the dome.
No one sat down, because no one wanted to miss a single possession.
On the Lakers' possession, Kobe held the ball at the top of the arc, guarded by Sprewell.
With only eight seconds on the shot clock, Kobe didn't pass. He took one dribble, stopped short, rose, and released a fadeaway. Sprewell's hand was right in his face, but the ball still sailed over his fingertips. It spun through the air on a high arc, so high it seemed about to pierce the ceiling.
Then it dropped, straight through, without even touching the net.
One hundred to ninety-eight.
"Kobe! He hits the fadeaway! The Lakers lead by two!"
Harlan's voice rang out from the broadcast booth. "He hits a clutch shot over Sprewell! That's Kobe Bryant! That's his killer instinct when it matters most!"
On the Knicks' possession, Kidd dribbled across half court and gave the ball to Li Fei.
Li Fei caught it on the right wing, guarded by O'Neal. With only six seconds on the shot clock, he didn't pass. He took one dribble, stopped short, rose, and shot.
O'Neal's hand was right in his face, but the ball still sailed over his fingertips.
The ball went straight through. Tied at one hundred.
"Li Fei! He hits the pull-up jumper! The Knicks tie it up!"
Harlan's voice had already grown hoarse. "He hits a clutch shot over O'Neal! That's Li Fei! That's his composure when it matters most!"
On the Lakers' possession, Kobe held the ball at the top of the arc, guarded by