By SARAH PAYNE
There I sat, with six other friends, waiting for the game to begin. Game 6 of the NBA Finals was sold out, even though I would?ve given a limb to see the action live. Nevertheless, no one wanted my limbs. So there we were, resigned to a comfortable place at a sports bar downtown on San Antonio?s Riverwalk.
I?ve been a Spurs fan all my life. Sometimes it gets out of hand. When I was 11, the Spurs lost the Western Conference finals to the Houston Rockets and I vowed never to go to the cursed city again. When I was 13, the Spurs didn?t even make it to the playoffs. I felt I had been robbed. So naturally, with the Spurs ahead in the series 3-2 against the Detroit Pistons this year, I stood loyally by their side?or at least as close as I could get.
All the stats were on our side. The Pistons hadn?t won in San Antonio since 1997. We hadn?t yet lost at home in the series. And the NBA Finals hadn?t stretched to seven games since 1994. Nevertheless, we couldn?t seem to pull it off in the final moments. The Pistons tied the series 3-3 that dismal night.
I thought about how the game might?ve ended up had I been there to personally cheer on Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, Manu Ginobili, Bruce Bowen and Big Shot Bob . I thought about what I was willing to give up to witness that game ? or any playoff game. I decided I?d want to go to the NBA Finals for my honeymoon. I decided that rather than having one of those expensive, sparkling ones, I?d take a 25-cent gumball machine wedding ring and the knowledge that I had witnessed a Spurs championship victory. Little did I know that my proverbial wedding was about to come to pass.
I was sitting at home Thursday morning, eating scrambled eggs and toast, just about to leave for work. The phone rang and my dad popped the question: ?What would you say if I got you a ticket to the game tonight?? I was speechless as tears filled my eyes. This was the moment I had been waiting for all my life. I gratefully and humbly obliged. With head bowed, the words melted off my lips: ?I will remember this day for the rest of my life.?
At work, I was unproductive. This was MY DAY. Of course they would let me off early. I went home at 2 o?clock and got ready for the big day. I must?ve changed my outfit seven times until I settled on the perfect dress, er, combination. Then I waited. I waited for my dad anxiously. I was excited ? this was the day I had always dreamt about. But I was also nervous and timid. I didn?t know what to expect. My dad kindly reassured me that he?d walk me through the entire process.
We arrived early to the SBC Center and prepared ourselves with ?cheer stix? (those balloon-looking things that you pound together). We ascended in the elevator to the terrace level, a level reserved for those corporate clients lucky enough to secure a spot in the coveted luxury boxes. Our corporate was Wells Fargo. Although I?ve only had minimal experience with Wells Fargo, it is now the greatest bank in all the world. I would not be where I am today without their love, support ? and Spurs tickets.
I met all the guests and was invited to fruitfully partake of the free fajitas and drinks. I quickly grabbed my seat and waited for the game to begin. I won?t go into the gritty and exhilarative details of the game ? you all know who comes out on top. But I will say that never have I been so close to hearing loss. Never have I been so close to permanently losing my voice. And never have I been so frightfully close to passing out or death from heart palpitations and stress. The sweat in the air is honey. The screams and stomps are a symphony. And the game-winning shot (or should I say shots)?divine.
I watched as, to the tune of a suspenseful epic thriller and dimmed lights, they carted out the coveted Larry O?Brien trophy to the sea of a thousand screams. We were many (17,797), but Thursday night, we were One. Rings will be exchanged, big fat shiny ones. And although I didn?t get one, I?ll always have the memory and these beautiful white cheer stix as a symbol of my love and devotion to this team.
As my dad and I drove home on that starry night to the symphony of honking horns and earsplitting cheers, I wondered if my life would ever get much better than this. I had reached my pinnacle. I had witnessed not only a finals game, but Game 7. There is no more honeymoon that would make me happy. There is no ring that would strike my fancy. There is no man I love more than Larry O?Brien.