Douze de faits
2026 NBA Western Conference Finals, Game 7
Kick In the Door - Wavin’ the .44. All you heard was, “Wemby, don’t hit me no more.” Ladies, gentlemen, sisters, brothers, and siblings, it is now official. Like a chestburster shedding it’s skin and replacing it’s cells with polarized silicon in order to become a fully grown xenomorph, Victor Wembanyama has shed the “ascending” and is now simply the greatest basketball player in the world full stop. League MVP Shai Gilgeous-Alexander didn’t relinquish his perch at the top of the NBA pecking order without a fight. Let the historians record and the bards cantillate the sensational spectacle that was the breathtakingly epic clash between the San Antonio Spurs and the defending champion Oklahoma City Thunder in the 2026 NBA Western Conference Finals. It was a war of attrition fought over seven grueling battles and it was closely contested all the way until the bitter end. Even though SGA fought admirably to extend his reign as greatest player in the world in Game 7, scoring 35 points and dishing out nine assists, ultimately after Caron Wallace missed a three down six with 12 seconds left in the seventh and decisive battle and Julian Champagnie soared to snag the rebound before quickly hitting De’Aaron Fox with the outlet who then kicked it ahead to Devin Vassell for the break away dunk and eight point lead with four seconds left that sealed the series victory for the Spurs, there was no question that the changing of the guard of the greatest player in the world was earned by Wemby and it was earned through mutual respect and through trial by fire. The Alien wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
When the dust settled and the Spurs were the last team standing having just closed out the champs, defeating them 111-103 in Game 7 of the WCF on their home court at Paycom Center in downtown Oklahoma City on Saturday, May 30th in the year of our basketball gods 2026 to extend our season into June, a series that started on the very same court 13 days earlier with the star player of one team winning a most valuable player trophy ended with the star player of the other team winning a different most valuable player trophy that puts an eternal asterisk on the first award that was given before the war was fought. To be fair, Shai Gilgeous-Alexander was a deserving recipient of his MVP award based on regular season performance but when the NBA MVP loses in the playoffs to another MVP finalist, that fact will always be remembered and legitimate questions on whether the voters got it right that year will come attached to that part of that MVP winner’s legacy forever. I suspect, though, while those questions are indeed now permanent for SGA, assuming Wemby keeps on his current trajectory, they will become more muted over time for the same reason those questions have become more muted for Charles Barkley (1993) and Karl Malone (1997). People hold it against you less when you suffer that type of embarrassment in your MVP season at the hands of the greatest player of all time. That was the case for Barkley and Malone losing to Michael Jordan (who still remains the goat to this day—the only acceptable name you could put forward to have a reasonable debate on the matter is Bill Russell—you can miss me with that LeBron is the goat nonsense—LeBron has had the best NBA career of any player in any era based on production and longevity but greatness is measured in winning at the highest level and LeBron is 4-6 lifetime in the NBA Finals). If Victor Wembanyama continues on his current trajectory, in 15 years (or so) the asterisk on Shai’s 2025-26 NBA MVP award will have been reduced to a tiny one as it will have born out by then that the embarrassment was suffered at the hands of what will be at that point in the future the new undisputed greatest basketball player of all time 🐐
Back to the here and now for a sec, the debate is officially over on who is the current greatest player in the world. Victor took that title away from SGA because the Spurs defeated the Thunder to win the West and Wembanyama (not the two-time defending regular season MVP) was named MVP of the 2026 Western Conference Finals. He has arrived, indeed. If Vic continues on his current trajectory, the debate over the current greatest basketball player in the world is going to be shut down for the next decade or more. Instead (to the point I was making above about how SGA’s humiliation will age gracefully), we will have a new debate to fixate on if Victor continues on his current trajectory. The new debate will be over how long before Victor Wembanyama earns his place on the NBA pantheon for greatest players of all time with Bill Russell, Kareem Abdul Jabber, San Antonio’s very own Tim Duncan, LeBron James, Wilt Chamberlain, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Shaquille O’Neal, Kobe Bryant, Stephen Curry + how long will it take him to surpass Michael Jordan as the greatest basketball player to ever walk on this planet? This paradigm shift has also arrived and the first notch in Wemby’s “goat belt” can be punched within the next two and a half weeks. If you want start walking down Michael Jordan (and Bill Russell) in the goat conversation, it not only means you need to make it to the NBA Finals a bunch of times but it also means (as Tim Duncan came so painfully close to being the third player to post this type of resume) you need to win it every single time you make it. Based on his Game 7 postgame comments, Victor already gets this and he will be ready to seize the opportunity now in front of him in the 2026 NBA Finals. Case in point, speaking to the press after winning the Oscar Robertson Trophy with his team and the Magic Johnson Trophy individually, Vic observed., “This is the best basketball on the planet that’s being played right now. And the crazy thing is, maybe I’m crazy for that but I want to do that fifteen or twenty more times. Let’s hope it doesn’t become an addiction. Maybe it is already.”
With those preliminaries out of the way, let’s party like it’s 1999 because the San Antonio Spurs are going to our seventh NBA Finals!! And awaiting us is the New York Knicks, the team we beat to win our first NBA Finals in the last year of the last millennium. With this next generation of dynastic talent on the Spurs roster, playing the Knicks and getting to play NBA Finals games in Madison Square Garden (basketball’s Mecca) again is such a full circle moment. It’s also so wild to me to be feeling this aberrantly euphoric sense of anticipation (which is unique to a Spurs’ finals run) for the first time in twelve years. I’m not surprised that we’re here (more just awestruck in appreciation to be once again experiencing such a fleeting revelry in the afterglow of arriving), I am an eternal optimist in my Spurs fandom, after all. Writing Un de fait after being on hiatus from this project for seven years felt like embarking into the unknown much like it felt when I wrote One Down in 2013 but on both occasions I envisioned the blog series taking us on a journey that would stretch into June because in both cases, I had an instinctive supposition this was a year the Spurs could make a run to The Finals. I won’t lie, though, unlike 2013 (when I had the confidence of rooting for a core group of players who done it many times before), considering our youth, it feels surreal that we actually pulled it off on Wemby & company’s first attempt. The 2025-26 San Antonio Spurs are the youngest team to make it to the NBA Finals since the 1976-77 Portland Trail Blazers. In other words, this is a once every 50 year outlier and since I’m forty-seven that also means that the 25-26 Spurs are the youngest team to make it to the NBA Finals in my lifetime and in all probability will remain the youngest team to make the NBA Finals for the rest of my lifetime which is mind-blowing. Perhaps a more apt comparison than 2013 (when I first started writing about every Spurs playoff run) to how surreal this moment feels is in fact the aforementioned 1999 run to the NBA Finals. (Also, before we continue (just to name it out loud), another reason to limit the comparison between now and 2013 strictly to the similarity of embarking into the unknown with writing the Black & Silver blog series for the first time—or first time in a long time—is 2013 proved to be the necessary exposition in a two-part story with the 2014 redemption title being the resolution. This journey we are on 2026 is undoubtedly a standalone origin story.)
Now back to the year where I pulled an all-nighter the night before seeing a first run screening of The Matrix in a movie theatre and as consequence, fell asleep 45 minutes in and missed everything else the first time I ever watched the dopest movie made during my formative years (no joke). In other words, back to 1999. It’s so poetic that it’s once again the New York Knicks. It’s so poetic that it’s once again a new crop of Spurs playing their first NBA Finals in the Garden. It feel so incredibly fresh. And it’s that newness of it being the first time we are experiencing it (or in this case the first time with this new generation of players) that creates its own “pinch me, this can’t be real” temporary plain of existence that is simply phantasmagoric. Perhaps the hint of imposter syndrome that comes with doing something for the first time adds an extra ingredient to elevate the provocation of the moment. As similar as this euphoric dream state I’m momentarily floating through feels to ‘99, the imposter syndrome ingredient is even more pronounced this time around because this team is way younger and way newer than the first squad that ever put Larry O’Brien in a boat parade on the San Antonio River. Tim Duncan, our 22-year old superstar and best player was young and new at the same time that Bill Clinton was establishing Pride Month by presidential proclamation, but the rest of the 1999 title team was a veteran ball club. (Happy Pride, San Antonio 🌈) Did I mention that the ‘26 Spurs are the youngest team in 49 years to make the NBA Finals? Yeah. I think it’s safe to say I’m floating on cloud nine in an incomparable way. I can’ t wait to get this thing started. But before we can, we still have some more house keeping to do on that immortal team performance in Game 7 of the 2026 WCF.
Seven players scored in double figure for San Antonio in Game 7 of the Western Conference Finals and all seven of them scored in the fourth quarter (we call that the seven and seven) as OKC was tightening the screws hoping to make us crack. This was a complete team effort to hold the champs at bay. As predicted in Onze de faits, Wemby played with determination and force setting the tone from the jump. His first bucket of his first-career NBA playoff Game 7 was an homage to his pantheon mentor Tim Duncan—an 11-foot bank shot to settle down the thunderous crowd. The Alien went on to hit step back threes, volleyball spike a layup attempt by the MVP into the first row, cram right on Chet Holmgren’s lifeless face (to name a few highlights), and played a steady, effective up-for-the-moment game finishing with a team-high 22 points, seven rebounds, two assists, and one endearingly emotional response to winning his first conference title and MVP trophy. The second leading scorer was Julian Chanpagnie with 20. Jules stayed in rhythm dropping the Thunder off for a back-breaking six triples on 6-10 from deep. Hitting six threes to help end a title defense in a Game 7 in the title holder’s own building takes such a NY street ball mentality. Now, the kid from Brooklyn gets to take that cutthroat fearlessness and give his hometown ball club a little something with it in the Garden. Also predicted in the last post, all three of our star guards stepped into the moment of opportunity provided by a Game 7 and seized it with contributions that totaled 43 points, 14 assists and 13 rebounds. I think it’s safe to say Wemby got the help he needed from his buffet menu of sidekick mega-talented all-world guards. The iconoclast Stephon Castle had 16 points, six rebounds and six assists while once again making SGA have to work hard for everything on the other end. De’Aaron Fox (our Iceman 2.0) had been struggling with his shooting after returning to the series in Game 3 from the high ankle sprain he suffered in the second round against the Minnesota Timberwolves but thankfully his cold-blooded sniping returned just in time for Game 7. He hit timely buckets to thwart OKC’s momentum in multiple key stretches in the decisive contest on Saturday night. De’Aaron’s calming veteran presence was absolutely critical to our Game 7 success. Overall, the two-time all-star scored 15 points (on 6-12 from the field and 3-7 from deep) and five assists. Last but not least among our three-headed guard trio, the prodigy Dylan Harper also made some of the clutch-est plays a 20-year-old rookie has ever made this deep into the playoffs in NBA history. Dylan had 12 points (on 5-8 shooting including two massive three pointers), three assists, and seven huge rebounds including two of the most important offensive rebounds of the second half where we went on to score critical points off those rebounds. I said we needed big performances from all three of our star guards in Game 7 to have any shot at knocking out the champs and predicted we would get them so it was really satisfying to see it come to fruition. The Slash Brothers and “Unc” were spectacular on Saturday night.
The last two remaining Spurs players of the seven who scored in double figures in Game 7 were our two longest-tenured players, Keldon Johnson and Devin Vassell who both put up eleven points. KJ was able to shake off his up and down postseason so far to come up with a sixth-man-of-the-year-level performance in the fourth quarter with the game in the balance scoring eight of his 11 points on two massive fourth quarter threes in a row (to bookend a Cason Wallace three on the other end) and then scoring a transition bucket later in the frame. Deven played a steady all-around game with stingy defense to help Steph with the MVP (creating two steals) and his series-ending emphatic dunk to seal our seventh trip to the NBA Finals is a play I will never forget. Ironically, the player of the game was not any of the “seven and seven” Spurs. The player of the game was Luke Kornet. Congratulations, Luke. I don’t even have to go back and do the research to know that you have set the record for the least amount of minutes played in earning a Black & Silver player of the game honor. The most underrated free agent signing of the 2025 NBA offseason logged a whopping six minutes of game action in his award-snatching performance and put up the jaw-dropping stat line of two points on 0-3 shooting and four rebounds. Unless you just came out of a coma, you already know why Luke earned player of the game honors. (And if you did just come out of a coma, thanks for immediately turning to theLeftAhead as your trusted news source for catching up on what’s been happening in the world.) Luke may have very well saved our season with his divine intervention of a Isaiah Hartenstein fast break dunk attempt. I can’t emphasize enough how massive that play was in swinging what could have been a four or three point OKC deficit to an eight point Spurs advantage with six minutes to play (after Steph his a midrange jumper on the other end after the block). Luke’s block was the highlight of our entire season so far and it may prove to be the biggest NBA playoff block since LeBron James’ chase down block of Andre Iguodala in Game 7 of the 2016 NBA Finals. One thing is for sure, it will be forever memorialized in Spurs playoff lore. Watching it never gets old so I’m just going to leave this right here below for you to enjoy on repeat as many times as your heart desires.
We wouldn’t be providing a comprehensive retrospective on the best playoff series of the decade so far without saying goodbye to some of the OKC villains who (because every chapter in the blog series is organic and each post is written under varying degrees of “time crunch” pressure depending on length of time between games and other outside demands on my attention) didn’t get the Black & Silver coverage over these past seven posts that they deserved. Let’s start by saying goodbye, Alex Caruso. You will not be missed. Your performance was at times chaotic at times brilliant and at times borderline dirty but it was also almost outcome-altering. So good riddance, Caruso. I’m glad we don’t have to see your pale face again until next season (lol). When the Thunder were up 3-2 in the series through five games, one could make a reasonable argument to have Caruso as the front runner for MVP of the 2026 Western Conference Finals. Many pundits were also prematurely trying to give the two-time champion a place amongst the greatest role players of all-time. (Settle down, NBA punditry. Alex Caruso has a long way to go to get in the same conversation as Robert Horry.) Thankfully, Caruso’s out-of-nowhere 31 point (including eight three pointer) off the bench Game 1 performance came in a loss and when the lights got brightest, The Bald Mamba couldn’t rise to the occasion going only 1-6 from deep (and 3-14 overall) in Game 7. We also need to say goodbye to you, Isaiah Hartenstein. Peace out, you ogre. Watching you play football by committing 55 fouls a game on Wemby (knowing the refs will only call four or five of them) because you can’t stop him playing actual basketball was a camp performance in a flop of a movie series that I’m thankful we don’t have to view again. Last but not least, goodbye, Jared McCain. It would have been extremely frustrating if the reason the defending champion Oklahoma City Thunder advanced back to the 2026 NBA Finals because of Daryl Morey’s idiocracy. Your inclusion in this good natured ribbing is purely circumstantial, by the way. I think you’re a great shooter and I love watching you play. It just would have been extremely frustrating if you had swung this series simply because the Philadelphia 76ers were too cheap to keep you around and too dumb to realize your value. Thankfully, you didn’t. Well folks, that’s all the goodbyes we need to make to OKC villains from this epic series. Not to pile on but we don’t need to say goodbye to you, Chet Holmgren. Thanks to the Vulcan death grip that Victory Wembanyama has on your soul, you never bothered to show up for the 2026 Western Conference Finals in the first place. And on that note, it’s onward to getting ready to watch the San Antonio Spurs play Game 1 of our seventh NBA Finals tonight back home in the comfy confines of the Frost Bank Center. I am overcome with joy and excitement and can’t wait to get this thing rolling. The #BlackAndSilver have the opportunity to crush a lot of dreams and guarantee it becomes at least 54 seasons that New York Knickerbocker fans have been waiting to celebrate a title. The 1999 nostalgia is going to be fierce with this match up. Just like 1999, we are still the better team and we are still the team with a 22-year old superstar who is the best player in the series. In the intervening 27 years since this Finals match up last occurred, we have won five world championships and established ourselves as one of the greatest franchises in all of pro sports while the Knicks have mostly been in the wilderness. I’m happy the Knicks are finally back to relevance but the more things change, the more they stay the same. We are still the franchise that has been hanging banners in the rafters ever since 1999. We are still D.R.E.
P.S. Congratulations to our old friend Jeremy Sohan for winning his 2025-26 NBA Championship ring.
Featured Image Source: Medium
Headline Image Source: Sole Retriever on Threads
Fourteen Down
2013 NBA Finals, Game 3
Party Like It's 1999 - What if I were to tell you that a thunder storm and a high school graduation ceremony caused one of the greatest shooting performances in NBA Finals history? If you would like to know how, you have a choice to make. [Note: I have just held out a blue pill in one of my hands and a red pill in the other] If you take the blue pill, you will wake up and you can believe whatever you want to believe. If you take the red one, you stay in wonderland and I show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes. Remember, all I am offering is the truth. [Note: Choosers of the blue pill, stop reading now...choosers of the red pill, follow me] Lets start at the beginning. It was a little under an hour before tip-off of Game 3 of the 2013 NBA Finals. I had the KSAT 12 local pregame coverage on but was not really paying much attention to it because I was about to crack open my first beer of the night. It was at that exact moment that I heard the commentator say something that caught my attention. "Ladies and gentleman, we have breaking news to report. Tony Parker and Tim Duncan..." The reporter paused for what felt like an hour as terrible thoughts about what he would say next raced through my mind. Tony Parker and Tim Duncan...were both injured in the morning shoot around and are unable to play tonight [Thought #1], were suspended for Game 3 by David Stern after the commissioner finally came to a decision on the appropriate punishment for this after 6 months of carefully discussing it with his confidant Joey (Expletive Deleted) Crawford and yes, it is just a coincidence that these suspensions have come in the middle of the NBA Finals [Thought #2], had both started reading Bill Simmons' column about The Duncan Show at 10:00 AM and upon finishing it at 4:00 pm they had gotten so excited that they started doing treatments on how to wrap up the Season 16 arc and had completely forgotten that Game 3 was today [Thought #3]. "Ladies and gentleman, we have breaking news to report. Tony Parker and Tim Duncan...have not yet arrived at the AT&T Center because they are stuck in traffic." WTF!!!! Are you kidding me? This is just as or even more bizarre than all of the crazy scenarios that had just rushed through me head. The first NBA Finals game in San Antonio in 6 years and we might have to hear Kevin "Big Kev" Brock announce over the PA at the AT&T Center, "starting at forward from the University of Florida, Matt Bonner. Starting at guard from the University of Texas, Cory Joseph." Can someone please get Mayor Julian Castro on the phone to get Tony and Timmy an SAPD escort to the damn stadium? What the hell are my city property taxes going towards anyway? Oh wait, that's right...I don't pay city property taxes because my neighborhood is still an annex of San Antonio. Okay, can somebody please get Commissioner Tommy Adkisson on the phone to get Tony and Timmy a Bexar County Sheriff escort to the damn stadium? What the hell are my county property taxes going towards anyway?
More on this later. First, I have a confession to make. Right after I said "lets start at the beginning," I immediately decided to give you the abbreviated version of the story because I am extremely tired after a long day of work and I just wanted to get this blog entry posted as quickly as possible so that I can actually get a little bit of sleep tonight. But after getting into the abbreviated version, I've come to realize that it doesn't do this story justice and you, the reader, deserve to get the story in its entirety. After all, you did just take the red pill. So please accept my sincerest apologies and allow me to start over. The story actually begins in Port Arthur, TX and it begins at the tail end of the twentieth century. The year is 1996. A 16 year old high school basketball phenom named Stephen Jackson is hanging out with his 23 year old friend on the benches outside of their neighborhood's basketball court. It is late afternoon and it is summer. It is 3:00 PM on June 15th to be exact. Anyone that knows anything about a Port Arthur summer afternoon knows that it takes a great amount of dedication to the game of basketball to be willing to tolerate the absolute agony of the heat combined with the humidity in order to work on your game on the outdoor courts. It takes a great deal of dedication to the game of basketball or it takes being in desperate need of a favor. Oh, I forgot to mention that the 23 year old friend that Stephen Jackson is hanging out on the courts with is Bun B of the Port Arthur hip hop duo UGK.
Bun: Hey Stephen, I need a favor.
Captain Jack: What is it Bun?
Bun: I've been holding something for a New York friend of mine, but I'm about to be going out on tour for the next six months so I need someone to hold it for me to keep it safe.
Captain Jack: I don't know Bun, I've got my future to think about, this sounds kinda risky.
Bun: Chill Stack, it ain't nothing crazy, just a little something I need stashed.
Captain Jack: It ain't drugs is it?
Bun: Naw, lil' homie, it ain't nothing like that.
Captain Jack: It ain't a gun is it?
Bun:nJack, I said it ain't nothing like that. It's a bag of magic "irrational confidence" beans.
Captain Jack: Huh?
Oh, I also failed to mention that the New York friend that Bun B referred to earlier is also an up-and-coming rapper named Jay-Z.
Bun: I know, it sounds weird, but if you eat one...you will magically be given the confidence to do other-worldly things that you otherwise couldn't do. They really work. I got them from the homie Jay-Z when I was up in NY. He got them from a broke customer back in his slangin' days who traded for them because he couldn't afford to pay for his fix. Jigga asked me to hold them for him because he said that when he tried one, it gave him the confidence to write a diss track against 2pac. While the 2pac beef put him on the map, he doesn't trust himself with the beans anymore because he is worried that they might throw his career trajectory out of wack because he is working on his second album and he is already feeling compelled to write lyrics comparing himself to Michael Jordan, Elvis, and the Beatles. Jay thought that if he gave them to me, I could put them to good use by propping up an entire stable of less talented Houston-area artists over the course of the next decade. So will you hold 'em for me?
Captain Jack: I still don't know Bun, this is kinda weird.
Bun: Come on Stack, we're on the same team. P.A.T., baby. P.A.T.
Captain Jack: Okay, Bun. I'll hold them. You know that I will do anything for a teammate.
Fast forward. The year is now 2003. That tour that Bun B went on back in 1996 was off the chain cray. So much so that when he returned to Port Arthur after the tour wrapped, his head was so cloudy that he had forgotten all about the magic "irrational confidence" beans and the fact that he had given them to Stephen Jackson to hold. Likewise, Jack has now been holding them for seven years but he has been so focused on making himself into an NBA player that he had forgotten a long time ago that the bag of beans was in a storage container in his garage. It is late afternoon and it summer. It is 3:00 PM on June 15th, to be exact. Stephen, now an NBA starter for the San Antonio Spurs, is looking for an old "good luck" wristband out in his garage to help him play well in tonight's ever important game. He happens upon the storage container, opens it, and rediscovers the bag of magic "irrational confidence" beans. For the first time in the seven years that they have been in his possession, Stephen Jackson eats one of the beans.
Fast forward. The year is now 2004. It is late afternoon and it is autumn. It is 3:00 PM on November 19th to be exact. For some inexplicable reason, Stephen Jackson, now playing for the Indiana Pacers, decides to eat a magic bean for only the second time ever in preparation for a regular season road game against the Detroit Pistons.
Fast forward. The year is now 2007. It is afternoon and it is spring. It is 3:00 PM on May 4th. Stephen Jackson, now playing for the Golden State Warriors is contemplating the possibility of checking himself into rehab. He is detoxing from a 10 day magic bean eating bender.
Fast forward. The year is now 2012. Stephen Jackson has been able to remain successful at his magic "irrational confidence" bean sobriety since he swore off eating them back in 2007. But he still keeps them in his possession and for some unexplainable reason, last week he transported the bag of magic beans from his home to his NBA locker. I guess there are worse things to keep in your NBA locker, Gilbert Arenas. It is late afternoon and it is summer. It is 3:00 PM on June 6th to be exact. Captain Jack, back with the San Antonio Spurs, has another huge game coming up this evening. He thinks long and hard about falling off the wagon and eating a magic bean in preparation for the game. But he thinks better of it because he knows that after 12 years in the league his confidence to make buckets is no longer irrational. He then has an epiphany of sorts because he really wants to win tonight's game. He decides that he will give magic beans to some of his teammates. He is ready to offer them up when he realizes that the bag of magic "irrational confidence" beans is actually in his home locker back in San Antonio and this is a road game.
Fast forward. The year is now 2013. It is late afternoon and it is spring. It is 3:00 PM on April 11th to be exact. Greg Popovich, head coach of the San Antonio Spurs, is conducting his annual CIA-style surveillance exercises at the AT&T Center. Popovich, an ex-intelligence officer for the United States military, is really, really good at these sorts of things. In fact, he currently has a pretty decent side gig to his duties as head coach of the San Antonio Spurs where he is making some serious coinage serving as a consultant for both the National Security Agency (NSA) as well as for Verizon Wireless. During the sweep of his players' locker room (one of the surveillance exercises), Popovich discovers that Stephen Jackson has a bag of magic "irrational confidence" beans stashed in his locker. Disgusted that Captain Jack has been holding out on his teammates all season, Popovich confiscates the magic beans and stores them in a safe in his office that he keeps hidden behind a painting of himself wiping his nose with Craig Sager's handkerchief which ironically was painted for Pop by former President George W. Bush. Despite his ideological differences with the artist, Coach Pop really loves this painting. The next day, Greg Popovich cuts Stephen Jackson for his selfishness. "After all," said Coach Pop in an exclusive interview he granted theLeftAhead to discuss this topic, "there is no 'I' in 'bean.'"
Okay, so this brings us back to where we began. It is yesterday. I'm standing in my living room cursing my television at the news that Tim Duncan and Tony Parker are stuck in traffic less than an hour before the tip-off of Game 3 of the Finals. Greg Popovich, however, is not panicking. He is in his office at the AT&T Center adjusting his game plan to prepare for the worst case scenario. He is just wrapping up a three-way phone call with Timmy and Tony who are both sitting in the middle of San Antonio gridlock with no end in sight. Ironically, it is harder for both Timmy and Tony to see how much further they have before traffic loosens up because their vision is impeded by all of the San Antonio Spurs car flags waving on the vehicles in front of them. Luckily for them, Coach Pop (who somehow seemingly knows more about the situation that is unfolding on the streets of San Antonio than even the city's best traffic and weather reporters) informs his players that a severe thunder storm, moving over San Antonio from southeast to northwest, is the cause of the traffic jam on the highway which has now been exacerbated by the unusually large amount of traffic that is in the area for the John Paul Stevens High School graduation ceremony. About to wrap up the three-way call with his players, Coach Pop blurts out, "can you hear me now." Popovich, as well as the NSA agent and Verizon Wireless tech support representative who are both listening in on the conversation all chuckle. Tim Duncan and Tony Parker have no idea what their coach is talking about. This is not an unusual occurrence. Popovich hangs up the phone, springs up from his desk, takes down the George W. orginal portrait of him and the Ragin' Sagin (as Pop refers to Sager), unlocks his safe, opens Stephen Jackson's bag of magic beans, takes two out, walks to the training room, approaches Danny Green who is getting his ankles taped for the game and says, "eat this and don't ask any questions." Danny Green nods and without saying a word, he eats the first magic "irrational confidence" bean of his life. Popovich precedes to the player's locker room and surveys the room. His attention is drawn to both Gary Neal and Matt Bonner. He swings his head back and forth between the two players for a brief moment. Matt Bonner is eating a sandwich whilst doing some sort of yoga stretch. Gary Neal is studying game tape. Greg Popovich begins walking towards Gary Neal. The rest is now NBA history.
Gary Neal went 6-10 on three point attempts last night, stepping up on the NBA's biggest stage to carve himself out a little place in basketball history. He didn't want to occupy that space alone so he invited Danny Green to join him. Green also went an astonishing 7-9 from the arc last night and is now 16-23 on threes for a magnificent 70 percent in the series (it is actually 69.5, but when you are the leading scorer in the NBA Finals to this point you get the benefit of me rounding up). These rotation players, benefiting from their magic "irrational confidence" beans, led the #BlackAndSilver to a dominating 113-77 victory over the Miami Heat last night at the AT&T Center. Throw in the three pointer that Tony Parker sunk, and the Spurs' backcourt combined to knock fourteen down. Throw in two more threes by Kawhi Leonard, and the squad converted on an NBA Finals record 16 triples. San Antonio was able to return the favor to Miami for the Heat's 19 point Game 2 victory. Gary Neal earns player of the game honors because Danny Green has earned the honor before, also because Gary Neal hit more of his threes while the game was still in jeopardy. My wife made the comment last night that Gary and Danny played like they were partners on one of those cheesy police shows and last night was one of those scenes where Gary Neal shoots the bad guy multiple times, and then Danny Green walks up to the bad guy (who is already down on the ground) and shoots him a few more times just to make sure he is dead. One of the most exciting by-products of this amazing Spurs victory is that in the past 24 hours, Gary Neal's journeyman story of perseverance has been well covered by the national media and told to millions of people. In the post-game press conference Gary was asked about one of my favorite parts of this amazing story; the circumstances of him and his wife deciding to postpone their honeymoon for the sake of his basketball career. Gary remembered, "So she decided that it would be a good thing if we went to Vegas instead so that I could try to make an NBA push." I predicted that the Spurs would earn one blowout victory at home during this series. I still think that the next two games will be gut-wrenching slug fests that will be won by the team who can clamp down the most on defense and execute with the most precision on offense during the guts of the fourth quarter. The challenge ahead is still enormous. The defending champions will not eliminate themselves, the Spurs will have to impose our will to make that happen. We still need to play our best 96 minutes of basketball this season in order to hoist a trophy this year in San Antonio. We need to play better tomorrow than we did last night. We can do it if we remember that which matters most. That after 16 years of playoff battle after playoff battle... we are still here! Tomorrow, let us send a message to our opponent. Tomorrow, let us shake this cave. Tomorrow, let us tremble these halls of earth, steel, and stone, let us be heard from red core to black sky. Tomorrow, let us make them remember, this is San Antonio and we are not afraid!
Epilogue: Rewind. The year is 1991. It is late night and it is summer. It is 3:00 AM on June 15th to be exact. A customer trades a bag of magic "irrational confidence" beans to a small time New York dealer named Shawn Carter. That customer is Darryl Strawberry. He convinces Shawn to make the trade by informing him that the beans were harvested on a top secret farm owned and operated by the United States military. Strawberry says that the reason he knows this is because the magic beans were given to him years before by an undercover military operative and even though he has only tried them once, they definitely worked. The undercover military operative who gave the magic "irrational confidence" beans to Strawberry went by the alias Gregory "The Operator" Popo.
Featured Image Source: The New Yorker
Headline Image Source: Sports Illustrated