Walton's voice traveled across the United States through the television broadcast. Every fan watching from in front of a screen, whether they supported the Knicks or not, could not refute those words at that moment.
Kevin Harlan let out a long breath and leaned back in his chair, seemingly not yet fully recovered from the suffocating pace of the game. He picked up the thread, his voice trembling slightly. "Bill is right. Before the game, we were all discussing whether the Kings' gorgeous offensive system could break through the Knicks' iron wall. But we overlooked the most fundamental issue: the gap in levels. The Kings' offense is a work of art built upon the league's average defensive intensity. But the Knicks—their offensive and defensive intensity exists in another dimension. They're a historic team. Their standard is to be compared with the Celtics and Lakers of the '80s, the Bulls of the early '90s. So this game was unequal from the very beginning."
"Yes."
Marv Albert adjusted his glasses, his eyes behind the lenses gleaming with wisdom. "It was like a meticulously choreographed stage play running into a real Hollywood war epic. The Kings played everything they were capable of playing. Their passing, movement, and shooting were nearly flawless in the first quarter. They scored 42 points, enough to beat 99 percent of teams in the league. But unfortunately, their opponent tonight was that one percent. The Knicks spent the first quarter admiring their performance, then used the second quarter to completely end the suspense. This was a crushing—an all-around crushing, from physical talent to tactical execution to mentality."
Albert paused, his tone turning more solemn. "So I want to say something to the other teams in the league, especially those teams the media has hyped up as 'Challengers.' Please face