Here’s my latest conversation with J.R. Wilco of Pounding the Rock. After a pair of nail-biters in San Antonio, the NBA Finals shift to Madison Square Garden with the Knicks holding a 2-0 lead and the Spurs searching for answers. In the latest edition of our ongoing Finals correspondence, J.R. and I discuss Game Two’s emotional whiplash, whether San Antonio has another adjustment left to make, and which team is actually feeling the pressure as the series heads to New York.
Here are links if you missed
part 1 and part 2.
J.R.
What a game. What an incredible game! Loved the ebb and flow. Loved the tension. Loved the comeback and taking the lead. Loved forcing the Brunson miss and rebound to bring it up the court with a chance to make sure that overtime was the worst possible result. Man, there is nothing like the final moments of a huge game with tons riding on it when it comes down to the final possession.
I’d say that’s right about the point where I stopped loving things. From the point of that rebound, it was either bad things or not-so-bad things. But there were no good things. What a game, but how … what’s the word? I need a word for a pain so big that you can’t simply use the word pain because it’s too small to cover the enormity of the loss. The kind of pain that, as you come to terms with it, keeps growing to the point that you wonder if it’ll overwhelm you. A pain that you can’t get your arms around. A pain that makes you re-examine who you are and how you approach the things that matter. Excruciating. That’s the word.
After you’ve found the right word, there’s nothing left to do but find the silver linings. I mean, of course, there are plenty of things to do besides. There’s wallowing in the pain of a 0–2 series. There’s torturing yourself with the frustration of coming up short. There’s bemoaning missed calls and bad plays and missed free throws and turnovers. There is all of that. But none of that is constructive, and so I refuse to do that to myself. I reject the idea that my fandom (the state and the core of my rooting for a team) would be something that turns me to bitterness. Never! So finding silver linings it is.
Wemby has come through in the clutch all season. He’s taken the measure of the moment and made not just big but huge plays. For him to see his best fall short is just the kind of pain that forces more focus and development and teamwork. That’s the kind of pain that makes a team dig deep and turn 2013 into 2014. Oh, it’s excruciating. But they either get hurt enough to learn from it—really learn and improve—or they get back to 2-2. There’s no pressure on them now. After three straight days of “Will NY sweep?” it’s free and easy from here until the series is tied or it’s all over.
R.R.
Boy were my briefs tight in the final two minutes. When Victor Wembanyama put the Spurs ahead, 103-102, my voice squeaked like a 12-year-old eunuch’s. Thank goodness my baby-making days are over. Can you imagine explaining that to the specialist? “Everything was fine until that 14-0 run and then—sssnap!”
That particular pain you speak of is all too familiar to us in New York. That existential dread still gives us shivers. You see, while the spurs were hanging five championship banners, we went 53 years without (not me personally, I’m old but not that old!). While you were partying, we were always talking about next year, and how Kevin Knox just needed a little refinement, and how Phil Jackson would lead us to the Promised Land (if he’d quit napping at team practices). Silver linings? Silver linings?? We had orange and blue skies, but they were always trimmed by strands of twinkling silver.
What we would be saying in your position–and you can trust my expertise on this, because Knicks fans have been in your position practically since Dr. Naismith hung his peach crates–is that there is no team more dangerous than one that has been summarily written off. Down 2-0? Ho Ho Ho! No sweat! This is the exactly the adversity Elfrid Payton needs to kick in the next gea–
Sorry. Had a gnarly flashback to the 2021 playoffs. My therapist calls this basketball-induced PTSD.
Returning to 2026: I thought San Antonio’s response to Game One mostly worked. They doubled the paint aggressively, got better games from De’Aaron Fox and Wembanyama, and defended more physically. Even Tony Brothers shook his head when Carter Bryant dropped an elbow on Jalen Brunson from the top rope. Ol’ Tone didn’t blow his whistle, but he did admonish the behavior with a stern head shake. Did you see the clip of Wemby nearly snapping Jose Alvarado’s neck? I hope Brooklyn has good chiropractors.
So, the fact that they threw a mightier haymaker and still came up short doesn’t bode well for your guys. Meanwhile, Brunson is primed to have a breakout game; Josh Hart hasn’t yet had one of his random five-three-pointer games; OG Anunoby and Mikal Bridges are playing defense like cops from El Salvador; and the ghost of Willis Reed has possessed the body of Towns. The most encouraging thing about heading home up 2-0 is that the Knicks haven’t even turned the dial all the way up yet.
Some on our side are speculating that Johnson might start Harper in place of Fox in Game Three. Fox’s ankle issues seem to be hindering San Antonio’s offense. Harper, being bigger, stronger, and more physical, would attack downhill, create tough pick-and-roll problems with Wembanyama, and force Brunson into heavy defensive work, opening up opportunities for the Spurs’ shooters and star big man. What do you think? Do you think Johnson will make the change?
J.R.
Nossir. Uh-uh. Nope.
As much as I would love to see Dylan’s minutes increase, if Fox is healthy enough to play, I don’t see Mitch starting Harper. I’m not saying Pop would’ve done it, but one of the things that happens when you replace a living legend is that you deal with a lot more second-guessing of the kind that would’ve been waved away with a breezy, “The guy’s got five rings, and do you think you know more about basketball than he does!?”
I love Mitch. I feel certain that he’s the right guy. I think San Antonio has its Eric Spoelstra in Coach Johnson. You know, the guy who started in the Heat’s system as a video coordinator and worked his way up to being Riley’s right-hand man and eventual successor. That’s Mitch, only swap South Beach for the Alamo and a slicked-back hairdo for a white beard and a smirk.
My take on Mitch from early in the season: it doesn’t matter if he’s the best-qualified guy to take the Spurs to the Finals this year. It only matters that he’s the guy who will be able to grow with the team so that he’s Finals-ready when the team is. Only there was a problem with that neat little take of mine. The team went out and made the Finals! So we’re seeing what it looks like when a franchise’s 22-year-old best player (who’s learning on the fly) is being coached by a first-full-year head coach who’s (say it with me) learning on the fly. So much potential that the sky is the limit. How high will they fly this year? No one knows, but it’s been entertaining so far!
Yes, even Game 2 was stunningly entertaining—like a cinematic masterpiece that leaves you so emotionally impacted that you have to spend $10,000 in therapy to get over it. Costly, sure. But entertaining.
So, with the ghosts of Elfrid Payton and Stephon Marbury hanging in the wings, and with the words “it might just be crazy enough to work” echoing in the halls, the series moves back to MSG. Would you agree that the pressure is on the Knicks at this point, or would that only happen should the Spurs take Game 3?
R.R.
How you thought about coach Mitch is kinda how we regarded coach Thibs. He was going to be the bridge—the Mark Jackson to the Steve Kerr, if you will. Tom was hired to install discipline, fundamentals, and a winning culture. He had never (head) coached a team to the Finals, nor did we expect him to. When the team reached the ECF last season, our heads were sent reeling.
The camp was divided. The curmudgeon had delivered on one major dream (the ECF); did he deserve a chance at a Finals run, or were his weaknesses the last obstacles to glory? Leon Rose & Co. went with the latter. I’d say their choice has been vindicated.
One criticism of Thibs was that the Knicks’ offense became predictable: dribble handoffs at the top, drive-and-kicks, and heavy Brunson iso-ball. Mike Brown was hired to change that. Throughout the regular season, though, the offense looked eerily similar. Remember, this is not a young roster but one of seasoned vets, with pride and ingrained beliefs about their personal skills. (OK, psst—the problem was mostly KAT, but shhh. We love him now!)
Only in the playoffs has Mike Brown’s scheme been realized. The Knicks have consistently moved the ball and involved everyone in the offense. They’ve executed at a speed unseen from them before. In fact, I suspect their game plan—which is to push the pace to tire out Wemby—had the same deleterious effect on their stamina in Game Two. When they became winded, the old habits emerged. Late possessions became sloppy. Luckily, they snapped out of it enough to salvage the game, with special thanks to Captain Clutch.
Brunson was mauled for much of the night and never found a rhythm. In yet another massive moment, he hit the tying shot, recovered Wembanyama’s turnover, and scored the winning point. That’s why his jersey sells like hotcakes. The 2024-25 Clutch Player of the Year, remember.To your question: the pressure should be on New York, with a chance to effectively slam the door with a Game Three victory on their home turf. But they are playing with such confidence that I doubt they’re overly concerned.
Truly, an impartial juror would look at this scenario and say, “Duh. Can I go home now?” New York defeated the Spurs four out of five times between the regular season and postseason (pretty good for the purported underdogs, no?). Could San Antonio flip the script, unlock some cheat code, and win four of the next five? It’s possible. But don’t bet your kid’s college tuition on it.
