Put away the broom; keep the Sixers' heart

Anybody who is familiar with the rhythms and workings of sports, let alone NBA basketball, knew that the Los Angeles Lakers would reduce their 15-point, third-quarter deficit against the Philadelphia 76ers in Game 1 of the NBA Finals.

The problem for the Sixers was that they let the lead evaporate way too quickly. They could have folded when the Lakers got within two points at the end of three quarters.

As a matter of fact, they also could have folded when Dikembe Mutombo, saddled with five fouls, had to re-enter the game with nearly five minutes left in regulation after Matt Geiger fouled out.

The Sixers could have folded when the Lakers finally took the lead at 94-92 near the two-minute mark in regulation.

The Sixers could have folded when Mutombo, 80 percent free throw shooter that he is, missed both free throws--and both in the same way (hard off the inside of the back rim)--with 34 seconds left.

Philly could have packed it in when Eric Snow's running, skipping, one-handed push shot missed at the buzzer, giving the favored Lakers a reprieve on their home court.

Let's interject something about the rhythms of sports and of NBA basketball once again.

When Snow missed that shot, sending the game into OT, doesn't the favorite, especially at home, always get off the mat and assert itself? Isn't that how most scripts work out, Hollywood or not, in the sports world?

Well, for the first half of overtime, it did. The 76ers most certainly could have chosen to fold up the tent after trailing 99-94 with 2:35 left.

They could have chosen to get distracted on defense. They could have chosen to panic. They could have chosen to gamble without reason. They could have chosen to hoist bad shots (Jason Williams of Sacramento). They could have chosen to lose their mental focus (the whole Portland team). They could have failed to hit ballsy, must-make jumpers (San Antonio).

The Philadelphia 76ers, a team--not a collection of individuals, a team--that certainly belongs on the same court as the Lakers, did what every other team couldn't and wouldn't do against Shaq, Kobe, et al. They refused to quit.

Mutombo individually could have quit when facing severe foul trouble. As Sylvester the Cat once said in a Looney Tunes episode about chronic bird-eating, "Just once! No one will ever know! Just once!"

Yes, just once, Mutombo could have gotten frustrated or lazy and punched his exit ticket. One momentary lapse, and he--and the Sixers' chances--would have disappeared.

He didn't crack.

Allen Iverson could have quit when Tyronn Lue--yes, Tyronn Lue--DOMINATED (yes, dominated!) him for about 20 consecutive minutes of playing time and carried the Lakers in the fourth quarter. Instead, the Answer, finally unleashed in the open court, hit the wide-open three he had to hit, and scored seven straight points to lift his team to the win.

Eric Snow could have junked his skipping push shot after missing it at the end of regulation. But no, he came back with 10.1 seconds left in overtime and buried a shorter version to put the Lakers on life support, and eventually kill them once the Lakers missed on the ensuing possession.

Forget all the talk about the Lakers being an all-time great team. They simply encountered opponents who crumbled at the first taste of adversity. This Philadelphia team, as true to a city's personality as a team could possibly be (this team might be more "Philly" than the 1993 Phillies baseball team, and that's saying a ton about these Sixers), will not flinch. The NBA is much better for it... and not in terms of ratings points or advertising.

The NBA needs the vast majority of its players--players intoxicated by stats, money and the trappings of material success--to realize the goodness of classic virtues such as hard work, perseverance, and dedication to craft. With superstar Allen Iverson carrying his lunch pail along with all of his teammates, the Sixers' continuing saga is inspiring more and more NBA players out on the golf course right now--and more and more impressionable youngsters watching on TV--to sacrifice, check the ego at the door, and--wonder of wonders--actually listen to and respect your coach. The Sixers, bless them all, are remaking the NBA in a wonderfully old-new image.

Now can we just play basketball--seven games to be exact--and put those stupid brooms away?