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| When Willis Reed walked on to the court just before Game Seven of the 1970 NBA Finals both the Knicks and Lakers knew the NBA Championship would go to New York. (Photo Credit: From the Lens of George Kalinsky. For additional photos visit GeorgeKalinsky.com.) |
The Entrance: Another World Ago
by Dennis D’Agostino, nyknicks.com
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Willis Reed’s legendary last-minute entrance just prior Game Seven of the 1970 Finals against the Lakers proved to be the season’s signature image. Reed, who had suffered a badly pulled thigh muscle during Game Five four days earlier, was reduced to the role of spectator as the Knicks rallied to win that night, then were shredded by Wilt Chamberlain’s 45 points in Game Six which forced the winner-take-all Game Seven on that memorable Friday night at the Garden, May 8, 1970.
And for the 48 hours following Game Six, there was one question, and one question only, that concerned the nation’s hoop fans: Would Willis play in Game Seven?
For all but a few, the answer didn’t come until Reed walked out of the 33rd Street tunnel a few minutes prior to tipoff, long after the rest of his teammates had taken the floor for warm-ups.
That night, the fact that Willis would play was made public long before The Entrance, although the means for conveying the message weren’t even in the same galaxy with what we have today.
And therein lies a tale.
During the afternoon, Willis received treatment from trainer Danny Whelan, shot around on the Garden, and said he would play. Ninety minutes before game time, coach Red Holzman taped an on-court interview with ABC’s Howard Cosell and said that not only would Willis play, he would start (then, of course, the Knicks would cross their fingers and hope for the best). And just before ABC hit the air that night, the Knicks formally announced along press row that Willis would start, and it was addressed by Chris Schenkel and Jack Twyman at the top of the broadcast.
But the fans still didn’t know. They couldn’t. All they knew, all they saw, was that Willis wasn’t there.
And then came The Entrance, and all hell broke loose at the Garden.
Now, imagine if the Willis-Game Seven saga had played out today, with today’s technology and faster-than-instant communication.
When Willis worked out in the afternoon, a hundred reporters would be blogging about it (“Willis pointed to my shirt and said it was ugly. Stood along the sideline and watched him shoot. Lookin’ good.”), then fifty of them would go on radio and TV and talk, speculate and theorize about it.
ABC would have a live camera in the lockerroom hallway, and maybe one at Willis’ locker. Then maybe an hour before the game, could you have imagined the tweets? (Clyde sez Willis is gonna play@mytweet). Then perhaps after Dr. James Parkes had given Willis the final shot of carbocaine, the world would have seen something like Thumbs up from DrP. He’s playin!.
All of course, amid breathless, instant updates on every laptop, Blackberry and outlet. . .by every means, be it cable, Internet, Facebook, or whatever.
But remember this: What made The Entrance so legendary, so indelible in peoples’ minds, was the whole air of mystery, the nerve-wracking uncertainty. Where’s Willis? Would he play? Can he play? What’ll happen if he can’t?
Back in the world of May 8, 1970, unless you were on the inside, really on the inside, there was no way you could have known.
But put that scenario in 2010, and perhaps some of that mystery, that uncertainty, is gone. Everybody would have been on the inside. The Entrance would still have been an unforgettable moment; Reed’s, and the Knicks’, greatest triumph. But with the story already having played out during the bulk of the day, in hundreds of ways, maybe that unabashed feeling of wonderment, of relief, joy and apprehension all rolled into one -- released by more than 19,000 the moment Willis walked out -- might not have been quite so raw, quite so fresh.
Everybody knows what happened after The Entrance. Reed scored four of New York’s first five points, his only points of the night, and provided all the inspiration the Knicks would need. Walt Frazier had the game of his life: 36 points and 19 assists. When it was over, the Knicks were NBA Champions, 113-99.
And the moment that would live forever would be The Entrance.
That was truly the stuff of legends. Even if nobody blogged about it.
