The saying goes, "History repeats itself" and if that has any bearing on how we view these NBA Finals, we'll mostly forget Tony Parker's Game 1 off-balance floater with a split second of time left on the shot clock; forget Tim Duncan's missed layup in Game 6, and every little play that culminated in LeBron James' destruction in Game 7.
Our perspective changes as every game changed. After the Game 2 Miami blowout, we believed the on/off switch was finally on and the Heat would cruise to their second championship in two years. After Danny Green and Gary Neal's hot shooting for three straight games, we conceded the San Antonio Spurs were the better team, executed better, and Dwyane Wade's injury and James' curious reluctant to shoot jumpers, and we would crown Duncan's fifth championship in five Finals appearances.
One shot is all it takes to change how we view the players with which we believe will rise in stature as we grow old. I never got to watch Bill Russell or Wilt Chamberlain play, Larry Bird and Magic Johnson face off against each other, Michael Jordan wreak havoc against the world, and barely old enough to recall Kobe Bryant and Duncan's era of excellence. Suffice it to say that most of what I assume is great about those players are written in words by my favorite writers, blindly assuming their opinion is right, and nothing else.
The lack of social media, specifically Twitter, belied the actual performances of what we term as legends and infallible players. We act as if Michael Jordan has never lost a playoff series, or missed a jump shot at the buzzer. We talk as if the basketball players of old were tougher, stronger, more physical. All the while losing on perception of what is going on in front of us.
And through all that, it only took a Boris Diaw rebound in Game 6, a Kawhi Leonard made free-throw, or a Duncan layup over Shane freaking Battier to replay and rehash those same adages again. So when LeBron finally conquered these specific 2013 Finals demons, the same ones that had befelled him in 2007, when the Spurs forced him to shoot jumper after jumper, we changed our perception one final time this season, proclaiming him a champion once again. When Ray Allen, arguably the greatest three-point shooter of all time, nailed another three in an avalanche of so many, with five seconds remaining, squelling the Spurs' chances at their fifth title, it didn't tarnish what the Spurs had done so much as reaffirm the Heat's greatness in a brief of doubt.
Two rings at the age of 28, two Finals MVP, a case full of hardware and we can take a break from wondering whether he's the next Magic or MJ, great enough to form a dynasty, or caricaturize his flaws into another strawman altogether. And on the other side, we are witnesses to end of an era. No, the Spurs won't just stop winning because they've lost the Finals. But it's plausible Manu Ginobili will retire and Duncan, another year older, is sure to slow down, even if it's a fastbreak layup step or two. The Spurs won't be the same, but they'll keep on keeping on, with the developments of Kawhi Leonard and Danny Green.
And while LeBron James' Game 7 performance rendered his critics speechless, Duncan and the Spurs' inability to close saw nary a complaint or criticism, instead we heaped on praises for two even teams playing down to the wire, as we should. It was a great series, with four blowout games that produced transcendent runs showcasing the pinnacle of human physicality, bookended by three nailbiters, culminating in one of the greatest Finals of all time.
Our perceptions is superfluous, it will always change, I just hope that in twenty years, we won't let the couple missed shots by the Spurs taint how we view this season. Both teams were great, both deserved champions, with nearly 8 Hall of Famers this sport at the biggest stage. One team won a title, the other did not, but we should never forget just how great these Spurs were, because we may never see them again.