The author, John Marek, is a writer and executive director of the Anson Economic Development Partnership.
Last week, the Harlem Globetrotters officially requested membership in the NBA, their reasoning being that they have, over the years, done more than any other team to promote professional basketball and create the popularity the league enjoys today. This is clearly a publicity stunt, and a clever one, on the part of the Globetrotters, and it’s hard to argue their name recognition and popularity, but suggesting they are responsible for the professional game is akin to saying the Arthurian legend owes its notoriety to “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.”
Many NBA fans would say that the Magic-Bird rivalry of the early ’80s “made” the league or that it was Michael Jordan and the Bulls dynasty of the ’90s. In my opinion, though, it was one game during the NBA Finals of 1976.
To add a little perspective, the NBA of the ’70s was not the same thriving league we see today. While very popular in specific markets – Boston, L.A., New York – professional basketball did not have a broad national audience. It was a niche sport and a distant second in fan support to its collegiate counterpart in much of the country. There was a perception that NBA players were “lazy” and only played hard for a few minutes at the end of games, and that a good college team, like the undefeated 1976 Indiana Hoosiers, could hold their own against, if not beat outright, all but the top NBA teams. CBS aired some weekend playoff games live, but weeknight playoff games were often broadcast on tape delay at 11:30 p.m. so as not to interfere with “regular programming.”
During the 1975-76 season, the Boston Celtics and Golden State Warriors dominated the league, the Celtics quickly navigating their way through the Eastern Conference Playoffs to the Finals. However, the Warriors ran into a hot (no pun intended) Phoenix Suns team in the Western Conference finals and were eliminated in seven games. This set up a Finals between a powerful if aging Boston team and a Phoenix squad that had finished just two games over .500 and had never previously won a playoff series in their eight years in the league.
The first two games of the series, both in Boston, were precisely the blowouts everyone expected, but the Suns rallied for two close wins in Phoenix to the surprise of the NBA world. Tied at two games apiece, the series shifted back to Boston for a pivotal game five on Friday, June 4, marking, as hard as it may be to believe now, the first time an NBA game was played in June. The unexpected success of the upstart Suns against the dynastic Celtics created interest among even casual fans, and a huge national television audience tuned in. They were not disappointed.
Among those watching that night were me and my nephews, Todd and Troy. Their younger brother Travis had fallen from a tree earlier in the day, and they were staying with us while my sister and brother-in-law kept vigil as he underwent tests at the hospital. I was not a huge basketball fan at the time but occasionally watched the Cleveland Cavaliers on the local station with my mom. The Celtics had defeated the Cavaliers in the Eastern Conference finals, so I had a modest rooting interest in seeing the Suns knock them off.
Boston cruised to a big first-half lead, but the Suns chipped away at it and found themselves tied at the end of regulation. At the end of the first overtime, with the score tied and just seconds left, the Celtics’ Paul Silas signaled for a timeout he did not have. It should have been a technical foul and given the Suns the chance to win the game, but the referee chose to ignore it.
In the second overtime, Phoenix grabbed a one-point lead with four seconds left, but Boston’s John Havlicek raced the length of the floor and scored on a 15-foot bank shot that brought hundreds of Celtics fans pouring onto the fabled parquet. After order was restored, the officials put one second back on the clock and prepared to give Phoenix the ball. That’s when the Suns’ Paul Westphal asked for and received a timeout he knew his team did not have. The strategy resulted in a technical foul, which stretched Boston’s lead to two points, but enabled the Suns to make the inbounds pass from midcourt. Gar Heard caught the ensuing pass, turned, and sank a 30-foot jumper at the buzzer to send the game into its third overtime, stunning the Boston faithful.
That incredible, unlikely desperation shot was the moment I became an NBA fan. By the third overtime, many of the key starters had fouled out, and an unsung bench player named Glen McDonald scored six points to lead the Celtics to the 128-126 win in what many refer to as “the greatest NBA game ever played.” Shortly after the end of the game, we got a call from my sister saying that the tests had come back and Travis was going to be okay.
Two days later, the Celtics won 87-80 in Phoenix to claim the championship. I recall that game not being as close as the final score might indicate. The next season, an even longer long shot, the Portland Trailblazers, did the Suns one better and beat the Philadelphia 76ers to win the championship in their first playoff appearance. The success of teams from nontraditional sports markets like Phoenix, Portland, Seattle and San Antonio cemented the NBA’s status as a fun league where teams from places few Midwest boys could find on a map competed with and beat the established “major league” cities.
A decade later, another obscure city, Charlotte, N.C., joined the league, putting it on the map and inserting it into the consciousness of one of those Midwest NBA fans. And here I am.