The instant the basketball sliced through the net, its crisp, pleasing swish echoing through Staples Center over the loudspeakers, the entire world seemed to split in two.
On one side was a frozen hell; on the other, a boiling heaven.
The Knicks' bench exploded like a powder keg that had just been lit!
Players, coaches, trainers—everyone in a Knicks uniform rushed onto the court like mad. Allan Houston was the first to wrap up Li Fei, who had just landed. He screamed with every ounce of strength in his body, his face twisted by sheer exhilaration. Then came Sprewell, Sabonis, Marshall... everyone piled on, burying Li Fei at the bottom and forming a mountain of bodies forged from victory and wild joy!
"We won! We won! Li! You damn bastard! You made it! You really made it!" Sprewell shouted through tears, pounding his teammate's back frantically as he unleashed the emotion that had nearly burst his chest apart.
At the sideline, Van Gundy, the iron-blooded coach, could no longer remain calm. He threw down his clipboard and leaped up like a child, pumping both fists fiercely toward the sky! His eyes reddened instantly, tears spilling out and mixing with the sweat on his face, carrying every bit of emotion he had suppressed and endured throughout the season.
At the other end of the court, however, the purple-and-gold world completely collapsed the moment the net rippled.
Time seemed to slow infinitely.
The expressions on the faces of twenty thousand Lakers fans froze in the final instant before the ball dropped. They were complicated expressions, tangled with prayer, fear, and the last shred of hope. Then, when that crisp swish rang out, every expression shattered, leaving behind only pure, unbearable despair and deathly silence.
A little boy in a number 8 jersey