Friday Night was among the most amazing games ever, more accurately the last 1.0 seconds of Friday Night. 

You can have the highest highs, but without the low-points there is no rollercoaster ride. It's the rollercoaster ride that makes the emotion so sweet.  Or as I often say, Snow White isn't a very interesting story if you start when she wakes up.  You have to feel the sadness of her sleeping, feel the helplessness of the dwarfs for the joy of her awakening to mean anything.

So first of all, thanks to Hedo for providing the set-up for LeBron.  Without his floater to put the Magic ahead 95-93, the moment would never have been so sweet. After his shot the Q fell silent.  It felt sick.  People were stunned.  Faces hung low, cradled in their hands.  Rally Towels stopped waving. Then the thought of being down 0-2 sunk in for the next 60 seconds as the teams collected themselves in a time out.

60 seconds separated the Hedo shot and the improbable inbounds play.

During any game, I make a lot of little decisions:  What jersey to wear, what flavor Gatorade to drink, which girl to flirt with, which Magic Fan to taunt, and how far to proke and prod any fan.

I was sitting in the corner of the court when Hedo's shot fell.  As the 60 second clock started, I remember vividly watching a disgusted fan jump out of their courtside seat and head for the exit. 

As he walked by me, I had that little decision to make.  Should I stop him?  Do I clown around and make a big show of making him sit for the last second?  Do I chase him off? 

I made the decision to let him go without any furry fanfare.  As I watched him walk off, I thought about what separated him from the other 20,561 people (assuming no one else was leaving).  Faith. 

It did seem hopeless, but what made this moment so special is that we collectively held on to that thread of hope.   However faint, we held on to our faith.

If I had more, I might have stopped him and demanded he see this.  But I had some.  Enought to stay.  Enough to stand.  Enought to believe. Enough to be a witness to history.  Enough to to risk being wrong to feel the moment of being right.

And it was amazing. 

I am making the decision this morning in my award-winning blog not to call out that fan any more.  I feel bad that he didn't share the faith.  Not only did his miss a rather magical moment...but after that one second ticked off 20,561 fans would forever have a story about seeing that amazing turn of events. 

And that fan will have a story about how he got out of the parking ramp and onto the freeway in record time. 

I hope to see him next game and confirm his faith has grown.  Keep the faith...all the way.

--dog