The San Antonio Post, meanwhile, shed its previous sorrowful tone, its pages brimming with pride and honor: "Our city, our team, our dignity!"
The paper devoted two full pages to reviewing every detail of Game 4, hailing Duncan, Robinson, and every role player as heroes of the city.
"They did not give up, even when facing the desperate 0-3 hole. With a stirring victory, they told everyone that San Antonio would never yield. We may ultimately fail to win the championship, but tonight, we won the respect of the whole world. Thank you, Gregg Popovich. Thank you, Tim Duncan. You have made this city proud."
In that dimly lit sports bar, the atmosphere was completely different from two days earlier. The game was still being replayed on television, but this time, the screen froze on the moment Duncan raised his arms after hitting the clutch shot.
"To Tim!" The AT&T programmer raised his glass, a tired but satisfied smile on his face. "I didn't take the day off for nothing. We'll probably still lose, but getting to watch a game like that made it worth it."
"That's right." His friend, the auto mechanic, nodded vigorously. "This is what the Spurs are. No matter who the opponent is—god or devil—we'll fight until the final second. I'll be here for the next game too. Even if I have to watch them win the title with my own eyes, I want them to know that San Antonio fans will stay with this team until the end."
People throughout the bar raised their glasses. There was no wild celebration, no unrealistic fantasy of a comeback—only a quiet, heartfelt pride. They loved this team not only for its victories, but for the character it had shown.
That night, TNT's flagship program, NBA Inside Stuff,