Wherever it goes

[Rasmuth]

***2020 Eastern Conference Championship***

Game #5) Orlando @ Brooklyn, L 99-103 (Nets up 3-2 in series)
POG – Brook Lopez- 26p, 11r
Daymeon Morrison- 12p, 11r
(Orlando jumped out to a quick 12 point lead in the 1st quarter, but Brooklyn countered in the 2nd quarter and took a 1 point lead into halftime. Brook Lopez had another big game though Daymeon Morrison played him much better in this contest and certainly held his own on the boards. The 2nd half was evenly matched but in the end the Magic just couldn’t capture the win.)

[Rasmuth]

I was sitting silently with Coach Willis in his office, both of us drinking stale coffee, when a door leading into the locker-room opened and Carmelo clumsily entered, clearly uncomfortable with the crutches he was sporting. Willis and I glanced at each other, both under the impression he was staying overnight in the hospital, in bed...off his leg. These were direct doctor's orders.

The somber mood of the team immediately lifted as Carmelo made his presence known and the whole team took their turns greeting him. Daymeon rushed over, not sure how to proceed, but in the end wrapped his arms around the surprised Carmelo, and after a moment, Carmelo hugged him back.

“Oh man, I’m so glad you’re here,” Daymeon said, relief evident in his voice.

Carmelo spoke loud enough for the whole locker-room to hear. “You don’t think I’d miss this, do you?” Laughter and various exclamations, ranging from that’s right, atta-boy, you know it, that’s what I’m talking ‘bout, erupted from almost all his teammates. The instant transformation of the mood in the locker-room was amazing to witness.

Coach Willis and I exited his office and joined the commotion in the locker-room. Carmelo looked a bit sheepish as we approached him. He shook my hand and then Coach Willis’s hand.

“Boss…Coach,” he said.

“Good to see you tonight, Captain” I answered truthfully, “Though I thought I was to understand you would be off your feet tonight.”

“Technically…I am off the leg,” he said with a nervous grin, tapping the metal alloy crutch against a nearby bench. “I’m being careful,” he added, just loud enough for Willis and I to hear.

“You take it easy, son,” Coach Willis added confidently, just a little louder than normal, so the whole team could hear. “We’re gonna need you in the finals.”

With that, the whole locker room erupted with cheers, hoots and hollers.

“How you feeling, Carmelo?” Kenny Horton asked loudly.

Before he could answer Amare Stoudamire yelled playfully from across the locker room: “Anything to get a day off, you lazy bum!” The players erupted into laughter again.

Carmelo slowly lowered himself onto a nearby padded bench, visibly wincing. All his teammates noticed and instinctively they gathered around him. Worry was visible on all their faces.

“Listen guys,” he said, breaking the sudden somber silence, “You all know how to play this game and you all know how to win, playing this game. Trust me, I’d rather be on the hard-court with you, playing tonight, but I can’t.” He shifted his butt on the bench, cautiously stretching his bum leg, trying to alleviate a measure of his discomfort. Suddenly, he sucked in a near-panicked deep breath though clenched teeth, his face twisting in miserable pain.

The room became remarkably silent; you could hear a proverbial pin drop.

After about ten seconds, his face finally relaxed and Carmelo, visibly relieved, continued. “But I’m not worried, you know why?” he said. None of his teammates dared to speak. This was the Captain’s locker-room now.

“I’ll tell you why I’m not worried. This team is bigger than any one player. I’m not saying we’re not important, but that’s exactly what I’m getting at. We are all important, whether we start the game or not, whether we play 35 minutes or 7 minutes.”

I could see some of the players beginning to nod with agreement. They understood exactly what he meant; they were a part of it.

Carmelo looked at me momentarily. “Mr. Davis brought each and every one of us here for a specific reason, but also for one main, singular purpose. That purpose was so we could be a team. Not just a bunch of individual guys doing their own thing, but to be a team. He brought us here so the sum of our parts could be better than the individual parts alone.”

He glanced at Coach Willis.

“It’s Coach’s job to make sure that happens, and guess what…it did happen. Everyone in this locker room has worked hard and it’s been a long season…a tough fight, but I believe we are the best team, top to bottom in the NBA. How else can you explain this? Look where we are tonight, right now. Its game 5 of the Eastern Conference Championship, and you aren’t at home watching the game on TV…you are all here. No one expected this before the season started, and I mean no one.”

Carmelo hesitated, looking into the eyes of every player before he continued on. He placed his arms around Daymeon, who was on his right, and Ty Braun, to his left.

“Bring it in guys,” he said. The whole team tightened the circle around him and they all put their arms around each others shoulders. For a fleeting moment I could kick myself for leaving my camera on Coach Willis’s desk. Carmelo looked over his shoulder at both Coach Willis and me. “You too, Coach…boss.”

We walked over behind Carmelo; I patted his back with my hand before I left it resting there. “We are a team,” he finally said. “We are a team unlike any I’ve ever played with before. That is the god’s honest truth. I know you guys would prefer I play tonight, but honestly, you don’t need me out there on the court. Of this…I am sure.” He again looked around the circle of teammates. If they were looking to hear a legendary pearl of wisdom to close out his speech, one perfect line that would be quoted as long as memory exists, they were disappointed.

But they heard everything they needed to hear.

Let’s go out there and kick some royal Brooklyn ass!!!” he exclaimed.

The whole team erupted, yelling and hollering again, pumping their fists in the air, clapping each other’s backs, all kinds of high-fives and variations that I just couldn’t really grasp. But, the effect was entirely cathartic. It was like a different team traded places with the team that was here just fifteen minutes earlier. My eyes locked on Greg Oden for just a second and my first thought was he was an old looking 31, at least in basketball terms. The game he loved so much had not been kind to him in the last decade, its treachery cruel with its result.

That being said, the infectious grin plastered on his face and remembering his huge last second game-winning bucket just two nights earlier, I couldn’t help but be reminded of something I’d said to Dick Amstar just yesterday, we pursue glory. Nearly everybody seeks to attain it in some fashion, so very few achieve it. I could honestly say at this point, no matter what the outcome of the remainder of the playoffs, this team in my opinion, already achieved glory.

It was almost time to take the court and the players began drifting around, preparing to hit the tunnel and get introduced to the frenzied home crowd. Carmelo sat alone with Ty Braun, the man who would get the majority of minutes in his spot. I was still near, I leaned slightly to listen.

“Hey man, I know you were unhappy with me playing your small-forward minutes and that you really don’t like power-forward much,” Carmelo was saying.

Ty looked embarrassed. “Well,” he said slowly, “it was that way at first, but not now. I’ve grown accustomed.”

Carmelo smiled. “The good news is you get to play small-forward all night tonight and because of your willingness to be flexible, you are a better player now than you were last year. Your time at power-forward has been good for you, and your game.”

I looked at Coach Wills and I could see by the glint in his eyes, he was as impressed as I was. The players began filing out into the tunnel leading into the openness of the arena.

“Just one more thing,” Carmelo said. The 25 year old Ty looked at his Captain expectantly. “Just have fun and play the game. You know how to do that, right?”

Braun nodded, a slight grin on his lips.

“That’s all this is Brauny,” Carmelo said, his nickname a play on the Brawny paper towel brand. “Just another game at the playground, and we all know who was the best player in those games, the player who flew over his opponents like Superman over tall buildings.” Carmelo poked him with his index finger in the shoulder, punctuating his point.

“I was,” Braun said softly, but assuredly

“Now, go get ‘em” Carmelo said, clapping Braun briskly on the shoulder. Braun stood and nodded. Then he turned and trotted up the tunnel to catch up with the team.

The three of us watched him go and I leaned over and carefully helped Carmelo up. “This isn’t cool,” he half whispered, clenching his teeth. "Damn spasms are killing me." He gingerly held his right foot off the ground as he positioned himself on the crutches.

"Didn't the meds from the hospital help?" I inquired.

Small beads of sweat dotted Carmelo's forehead. "I'm sure the muscle relaxers and whatever else pumped me with will help soon enough, but I wouldn't let them give me painkillers, I hate how they make my head feel."

I stood there a moment before I quickly grabbed my camera, amazed at the mental strength and fortitude of this man. The three of us moved towards the tunnel, the cacophony of noise steadily gathering momentum in the building, Coach Willis shook his head, smiling.

“Damn, Carmelo,” he said, “and I was planning a rip-roaring speech before the game. All fire and brimstone and sufficiently laced with well-placed vulgarity. I’ve been working it in my mind all day.”

Carmelo grinned; his crutches make their distinct, unmistakable sound as he moved with us up the tunnel. “Sorry, Coach, didn't mean to rain on your parade.”

“Well, it was that one, or the win won for the Carmelo speech. I hadn’t quite decided yet,” Coach Willis added with a smile. He turned towards the team. “Let’s go, boys!” he yelled, as they ran onto the court, the appreciative home town crowd erupting into raucous celebration.

Carmelo and I stopped and waited a few moments, letting the team get their undivided attention from both fans and media. I knew once Carmelo and I entered the arena, all eyes would shift to us, at least until we settled into our seats.

“Watch the game behind the bench tonight,” I said as we started moving. “I want you to tell me what you see on the court in this game tonight.

“Okay, boss,” he said. “I don’t watch too many games this way, should be fun.”

I looked at him and all I could see was disappointment in his eyes.

I couldn’t help but worry, though I remained silent. I hoped one more year would be enough time for Carmelo to resolve the end of his playing career.

[Rasmuth]

***2020 Eastern Conference Championship***

Game #5) Brooklyn @ Orlando, W 117-107 (Magic up 3-2 in series)
POG - Ty Braun- 25p, 10r, 2a
Goran Dragic- 22p, 5a
(Braun came out like a man on a mission. Playing 30 minutes in his natural SF position, Braun torched the Nets going 10-14 from the floor. Dragic hit four 3-point shots and Shumpert added 5 assists and 13 points off the bench, including 10-12 from the charity stripe. NJ wasted a 28 point effort from guard Barry Sankes and 25 points from forward Brook Lopez. )

The Nets and Magic have a day off as the series shifts back to New York City for game 6.

[Rasmuth]

***Game 6 - NBA Eastern Conference Championship***

Game 6) Orlando @ Brooklyn, L 99-103 (Series tied at 3)
POG - Brook Lopez- 26p, 11r
Daymeon Morrison- 12p, 11r
(The Magic grabbed an early 12 point lead, but cold shooting in the 2nd period left them 1 point behind at halftime. New Jersey and Orlando played evenly the 2nd half and Magic came up just short. Lopez was solid down the stretch drawing fouls and getting to the line. Nets guard Barry Sankes added 21 points.)

The series shifts to Orlando for game 7. In the Western Conference, The #1 seed Charlotte Hornets dispatched the #7 LA Clippers in six games.

[Rasmuth]

May 24th, 2020 edition of the Orlando Times Sentinal daily edition, both print and online.

Willie Stinson
Staff Writer

Orlando- I never considered I’d be sitting in front of my laptop writing an article this late in the playoffs about the Orlando Magic. But yet, it’s May 24th and tomorrow (in Orlando no less!), game 7 of the 2020 NBA Eastern Conference Championship. Some have already labeled this series one for the ages, and perhaps that is true, time will be the ultimate barometer in that regard.

But there is no doubt this has been one of the most entertaining playoff matches in many years, capturing the hearts and imagination of NBA fans around the globe. After six grueling games, these two teams, so diametrically different, yet so fundamentally matched, have battled back and forth to a 3-3 stalemate, leaving everyone in witness gasping for breath, as if they were running up and down the court themselves. To have all this come down to a game 7 just seems so exactly perfect, all eyes of the basketball world focused on this one game and its inevitable result.

Meanwhile, in the west, a champion is already crowned, the New Orleans Hornets patiently waiting for the east to crown its choice of champion.

Key to New Jersey has been the dynamic tandem play of forward Brook Lopez and guard Barry Sankes, leading an impressive offensive charge for the Nets. It’s a hodgepodge of contributors for the team-minded Magic. We’ve seen this team rely on the likes of Carmelo Anthony and Kenny Horton early on during this series. We rejoiced in the improbable last second heroics of Greg Oden, so remarkably cool under pressure. It’s been said a bazillion times before, but I’ll say it again…if only his body hadn’t betrayed him.

We stared in disbelief as our warrior Captain fell, and cheered wildly as Ty Braun shot lights out in his stead. And now that brings us to game 7.

So, I sit at my desk in downtown Orlando, shaking my head and wondering. Is it too much for us to expect a win tomorrow night? It boggles the mind to understand that if the Magic can triumph tomorrow evening, it’s the…wait for it…NBA finals.

Do I dare to dream this big?

I’ve had the pleasure of covering every minute of basketball this team has played for the past decade. For many years, it was almost a chore. At least I got paid for it.

But this season, is by far, the most fascinating season I’ve covered since I started my professional career as a sports journalist. The dynamic of this team is so complex, yet unlikely, it makes for an interesting study.

First of all, is the surprising success and creativity of GM Crash Davis. To say owner Dick Amstar’s hiring of Davis was shocking, is an understatement indeed. Amstar’s intelligence (despite his phenomenal business success), was actually called into play after this move and he was crucified across the board, by analysts and colleagues alike.

But his years removed from the debacle in New York have been kind to Davis. The team he masterminded and assembled in The Big Apple soon found success after his brutal vilification and dismissal. And now, coupled the sudden turnaround of the Magic, with Davis at the helm, he’s essentially redeemed the early shame and perceived cataclysmic failure in the NBA, though the profound hatred of Knicks fans to this day remains mystifying.

Then Davis, doing his best Amstar impression, hired a senior citizen head coach, and get this…he’d never coached before in the NBA, zero experience at this level. Everyone criticized the hire and many laughed outwardly at the obvious ineptitude of Davis. But now, just two years later, Coach Willis already boasts a fine 92-72 record, and more importantly, the Magic made the playoffs both seasons.

The Davis turned to his roster, hiring a rapidly declining future Hall-of-Famer with a questionable reputation, and next thing you know he’s Captain of the squad, leaving many shaking their heads why longtime Magic player Ryan Anderson was denied the honor.

Then of course, there’s the Cinderella story of the year, Daymeon Morrison. Drafted directly from high school in the late first round by Golden State, he was quickly dumped by the team with unkind and apparently false whispers of his intelligence floating around the league.

Davis, acting on a tip from his father, signed the 19 year old, and two months later, here we are. There is no doubt that Morrison is a mere boy playing among men, but already he’s holding his own and he’s in the starting lineup for this Magic club in the playoffs.

The popular buzzword these days describing this Magic club is chemistry and it’s no big mystery that great championship teams must possess this intangible element. Many potential great teams, when analyzed on paper, failed miserably because of a lack of this chemistry. Or perhaps even worse, a team might be plagued with negative chemistry, the like of which can tear a team apart at the seams.

There is no doubt this 2020 Magic club possesses a great chemistry. Yet it is so hard to explain exactly what that means. All I can say is that, in my humble opinion, there is an energy, or a vibe unlike I’ve ever seen in the sport, with this Magic squad. From the top of the roster down to the bottom, there is a completeness that is truly indefinable and truly impossible to understand.

So at this point, I don’t try to understand anymore, I don’t try to analyze anymore. I haven’t for a while now. I am a sportswriter for this fine newspaper and my job is to follow and report about this team. But I’m also a fan and truthfully, I’m just having a whole lot of fun watching this incredible squad, just like every other fan in the metro area.

Do I truly dare to dream this big?

Why the hell not! It’s game seven, and win or lose, I already feel like I’ve been on the best thrill ride ever! I don’t want it to end, but at some point you have to just get off and take a deep breath, acknowledging deep in your heart and soul, it was truly amazing. I feel that way already.

Carmelo won’t play tomorrow night, but I’m not too heartbroken about it. This team is so much more than just the individual. I feel better knowing Carmelo will be behind the bench, sitting with Crash Davis, doing everything he can to help the team. And even though he won’t play, this Captain will still help the team. It turns out that Carmelo Anthony is just that kind of guy.

Tomorrow night is game 7!

I can’t wait!

Let’s go Magic!

[AussieVilla]

Wow, loving the different feel of this dynasty write-up! (And no, I'm not referring to Kiera)... You've sucked me in and now I'm well and truly on the Magic bandwagon - who will be the hero of Game 7?

[Rasmuth]

Wow, loving the different feel of this dynasty write-up! (And no, I'm not referring to Kiera)... You've sucked me in and now I'm well and truly on the Magic bandwagon - who will be the hero of Game 7?

Thanks!!! I appreciate the feedback, and I'm glad you are enjoying it.

Game 7 is done (though I'm not talking...lol). I should update tonight or tomorrow.

[zike_42]

This is such an amazing dynasty, really loving it. Took me probably three hours to get through it all and I'll be waiting for new updates. Go Magic!

[Rasmuth]

I’m plagued by such conflicting feelings and emotions right now. In less than 45 minutes, game seven of the 2020 Eastern Conference Championship will tip off and I’ll admit…my stomach is a mess, flip-flopping with nervous excitement. My mother and sister are already in the arena, they’ll be sitting with Carmelo and I. I’m so glad they agreed to fly down at last minutes notice for the game. Dick Amstar was very gracious and sent his private Lear jet to pick them up at Bradley International Airport in Hartford.

My Dad would have loved this and it just saddens me deeply that he’s not here, sitting with me, enjoying a drink before the big game. And he would be so proud of Daymeon, standing tall under such scrutiny, not withering under this extreme pressure. The kid’s been a rock all through the playoffs.

I received a telegram from Keira today. I wondered when I would finally hear from her. I figured the news of my father’s death would eventually reach her. Currently she’s filming her latest movie on a closed set in the Australian outback and all crew and cast have been forbidden any contact with the outside world, except for extreme circumstances. I guess someone finally figured she should know. She said she was devastated she wasn’t with me during this horrible situation and she apologized profusely. Apparently the director is complaining because she’s been crying so often, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. She also promised, hell or high water, that if the Magic make the finals, she’ll fly in to see the games with me. The film’s director finally relented to this, but only after she blasted him and threatened to walk off the film entirely. My guess is she’s got someone on the inside secretly working for her now, letting her know the outcome of the games. I didn’t realize until I received her telegram, how much I truly missed her.

Surprisingly, I also received a condolence card from Nina. It was just a quick note expressing her condolences, nothing personal in the message at all, but since reading it, I just can’t seem to rid her from of my mind. I keep thinking of her sheer beauty and exotic, seemingly impossible dark skin color. And I can’t help remembering the unlikely personal connection. She must have felt it too; I couldn’t have just imagined it.

Marlene has kept her distance also, though we’ve spent a few nights together recently. Not a whole lot of talking, but she seems to have a way of understanding me and she’s been very respectful of my obvious need for privacy.

My watch says its 7:05 pm, and game time is at 7:30 pm. With a quick mental calculation, I decide I have time for another quick drink and I pour a generous helping of bourbon over fresh ice cubes.

Lord, I must admit. I really want this game tonight. I really don’t know if we have the ability to beat the Hornets in the finals, but Eastern Conference Champs would be huge, for so many reasons, most especially the men suited up in Magic uniforms and the city we represent. But I can’t help thinking that I’d really like to see Keira too.

We need to win this game!

A hesitant knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts. I glance at my watch…7:16 pm. Who can this be? I wonder.

I down the last gulp of whiskey and head to the door; it’s time to go anyway. Opening the door, I’m surprised to see my sister, a hesitant smile on her face. “Are you alright?” she asks, as I close my door behind me.

“Sure,” I said stoically, “why?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Pretty close to game time, with everything that’s happened recently, I was worried about you.”

I looked at her closely as we slowly walked down the hall. She had my mother’s eyes and nose, but she most definitely had my father’s crooked smile.

“Why are you smiling like that?” she said.

It was my turn to shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know…just thinking about Dad, you have his smile, you know.”

She laughed quietly, her face then settling into that crooked smile, and locking her arm around through mine, we continued walking. “Mom tells me that all the time.”

We reached the nearby private elevator and after the door whooshed closed, I pressed a button taking us to a little-used door below the basement, down near the Magic locker room. I pressed the secret 5 digit code when prompted, to allow the elevator to access that particular floor and we began to descend.

“How did you find my office?”

My sister stared at the digital indicator steadily marking the descending floors leading to our destination. “Marlene told me” she said. “It really wasn’t that hard to find.”

“No, I guess it isn’t,” I answered.

“I think she has quite a crush on you,” my sister said, slightly turning her head so her eyes could see my face.

“Who…Marlene?” I answered. I wasn’t sure how to proceed, so I finally decided to speak the truth. “Marlene and I see each other regularly; we have for quite a while now. I’m very fond of her.”

I could see from the corner of my eyes a glint of surprise on her face. “What about Keira Knightley?”

Again, I figured the truth was best. After all, my sister’s a big girl now. “Keira and I are relatively serious for sure, though I really don’t know what the future holds for us. Marlene and I have been lovers far longer than I’ve known Keira.”

“Does Keira know about Marlene?”

I shook my head.

“Would you stop seeing her if Keira asked you to be committed to just her?”

The elevator stopped and the door slid open. We stepped out into the lonely hallway, very near where I ran into Nina on New Year’s Eve. My sister’s question echoed in my mind.

“Well…?” she finally inquired; weary of waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully, as we approached the locker room.

“You dog,” she said quietly, shaking her head, more with admiration than disdain.

We entered the empty locker room and crossed its generous space, aiming for the tunnel entrance leading towards the court. My sister’s head was on a swivel, pivoting left and right, observing the impressive facilities, her eyes taking it all in. I could tell she was sufficiently impressed by the $31 million we spent to update these facilities in 2018.

Finally we reached to final door between us and the court. “I care for them both,” I said defensively.

My sister waived her right hand. “Yes, yes, I’m sure you do,” she said, almost dismissively. The building seemed to be rocking with the rhythm of the frenzied crowd, the muffled din already impressive. “It’s almost game time, this is gonna be great,” she said excitedly.

“I thought you were a Celtics fan,” I said questioningly. My sister grew up in a basketball household; she was as dedicated a fan as any other and held her own, mostly, in arguments pertaining to strategy, history and overall knowledge of the sport. She really had no choice in the matter. I remember my father telling me she possessed a steel trap of a mind for statistics.

“I was,” she answered with a grin, “until a few seasons ago.” Her eyes blinked in rapid succession. “Dad wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I’d never realized just how dedicated my family was while I spent these years virtually isolated from them, by my own accord. Yes, I made token appearances now and then, usually during the big holidays, but I’d even missed Christmas last year due to a Christmas Day game televised on CBS. I couldn’t afford to miss a game, I told myself dutifully.

“I hope Daymeon has a good night,” she said, biting her lip. “Come on, let’s go, I don’t want to miss any of this.”

My mind quickly wondered why she was thinking of Daymeon, but then I remembered, he’d lived at our house for awhile and I’m sure she knew everything about him as a basketball player from my father.

I couldn’t keep her waiting any longer and I didn’t want to miss a single second of the game either, so we crossed into the arena and when the state of the art Jumbotrons flashed on my familiar presence walking towards my seat, the crowd broke out into favorable and respectful applause. I couldn’t help but smile.

This is Game 7, Eastern Conference Championship!!!

[Rasmuth]

Scrolling across the bottom of the television screen, ESPN........


"Orlando Magic 119 - Brooklyn Nets 100, Magic win Eastern Conference Championship 4-3. Will meet New Orleans Hornets in NBA final."