It Had To Be Done

I've been slacking on my duties with this whole blogging thing. Things like a job seem to hold precedence. But just like I made it my business to be at Madison Square Garden on Saturday, August 5th, 2006, I'm making it my business to blog about it.

I've already touched on the story of why Teresa Weatherspoon and John Starks are my two favorite athletes of all time, time and time again. Here, I'll give you a chance to read it and then come back to us.

The general gist is that stats, lists and numbers really mean nothing to me. Those thing pass, records get broken, numbers lose their value due to an ever changing game and time moves on. But John Starks and Teresa Weatherspoon represented what sports is about for me.

As has been told many times over, I don't do autographs...the times I've gotten John's and Spoon's were for other people, so I don't even have theirs. I prefer conversation. Since this post is about Spoon Night, we're going to focus on her, but you can just take a lot of it and apply it to Starks as well.

Anyway, like I said, I prefer conversation. That's one of the reasons I find Spoon to be so great. This year, Spoon has attended many a Liberty game...and seemed just as disappointed as the rest of us fans...but any and everytime I've glanced over to wherever she's sitting, I always find Spoon 10 seconds away from being tapped on the shoulder by a fan walking on eggshells and tippy toes hoping they won't get the same death glare once reserved for opponents for invading her personal space or swept up and away by security for having the audacity to want to be in the presence of greatness.

Without fail...and I mean every. single. time...I have seen Spoon come out of her thoughts...hopefully of how to improve the Liberty...and glance up at the anxious individual, male, female, young, old...smile, make eye contact, take her time, sign whatever it is while making idle conversation, reach out her hand, and get this...thank them while breaking the barrier between legend and fan.

I've seen Spoon calmly but authoritavely tell security to chillax, always without embarassing them...in order for a fan to get whatever it is they want from her.

Even on her very own night, where emotion and anticipation was visibly boiling inside her, I watched as she embraced many a fan to the point where Blaze lept from her seat, raced down to the court, demostratively admonished security and commanded one poor fellow to sit in the aisle and be Spoon's own personal shadow.

I've seen Spoon stop conversations with family, friends, peers, celebrities, politicians, or people with power and money...to turn around, sign an autograph, pose for a picture and thank a fan for being a fan.

I've seen times where Spoon might have been in a tremendous amount of pain, be it physical or emotional, but still come out of the employee entrance at Madison Square Garden, just to be mobbed for her Hancock. And would make sure every single person got what they wanted. Would make sure that no one got trampled.

I've been at that same employee entrance on nights when the Liberty would pull off a big win and Tari Phillips would be holding court discussing NYC cabbies with fans, Tamika Whitmore would be in the mix telling it like it was, while Spoon would be at the front of the semi circle comprised of Liberty fans, MSG employees, homeless, police officers on their beat, people on their way to Penn Station and just random people who happened to walk by wondering what the commotion was. Spoon would be standing there amazed at the magic tricks of a dude who was probably doing this as a hustle just to eat that night. But both he and Spoon seemed to be in the same place at the same time, in awe of each other, enjoying the moment, while fans realized you just don't get this anywhere else or with 98% of the professional athletic population.

When the magician was done...usually after Spoon figured out the trick, he got a smile and a hug just like everyone else and it seemed that instantly, the comfort level was so high on this NYC street that everyone was family. Everyone, including the person everyone stopped to see in the first place. Here's a hint...it wasn't the David Blaine wannabe.

You could see the mentality shift in the eyes of the people standing on that corner. Instantly, it went from "can I have your autograph" to conversations about magic, basketball and pretty much anything else with getting the autograph as an afterthought as proof the meeting ever occured because the fan knew no one would believe he/she was on the corner talking with Teresa Weatherspoon. No one would believe that a pro athlete would play 34 minutes that night, work a crowd of 14,000 and come out of the employee entrance at 10:30pm to chill with fans until almost midnight.

So when I entered the arena on August 5th, I realized tonight wasn't about being the team's all-time assist and steals leader or holding the record for most steals in a season of any WNBA player ever, a 2 time defensive player of the year, Olympian, all-WNBA second team selection or any other acquired accolade.

This night was about celebrating the one professional athlete who celebrated us.

This night was about all those times I bumped into Spoon at a community event, a basketball camp, a street fair, a summer tournament or a high school basketball game. It was about Father's Day 2003. It was about being my mother and I's favorite player...something for us to bond on. It was about my brother and I being able to laugh at Spoon ripping some unsuspecting guard in backcourt and then laughing with Spoon about the ketchup stain on my brother's jersey a couple of hours later. It was about the conviction, passion, exuberance and pride that fills Spoon's voice almost everytime she speaks. It was about me, on the other side of the country, telling her a story of how she inspired something in my life and watching her get choked up and tell me repeatedly how much she really appreciated it.

People will complain that Spoon's jersey wasn't raised as if there's some statute of limitations on things of that nature. They'll complain about the front office's inability to put together interviews with people who actually shared the home court with Spoon other than Whitmore. They'll complain that Sue and Kym weren't given the mic. They'll complain that Spoon's name in the court means less because the Liberty have their own court and you won't see it but 18-25 times a year if they ever make the playoffs again. They'll complain that Spoon shouldn't have been in the postgame huddle, but on the bench in place of Patty, Marianne, Nick and Lisa or in section 55 in place of Blaze.

They'll complain that the game was scheduled against the Chicago Sky, a terrible expanision team with absolutely no ties to Spoon other than Bernadette Ngyoisa although every Sky player would stick around for the ceremony and make it their business to hug and embrace Spoon after the game. They'll complain that Dolan doesn't care about Spoon's legacy as if Camille Cooper and David Wingate's names also grace the Hall of Fame, walls and windows of his building. They'll complain that the 2 minutes spent giving the bio of Blaze were completely uneccessary and only done to combat the expected audible boos throughout the arena when she was announced. And hey, with some of them I agree...especially that last one.

I'm so bold, I'd have raised Spoon's jersey to the rafters during her first game back with the Sharks in 2004 and played "Never Can Say Goodbye" by the Jackson 5 while doing it. But don't for a minute think that the Liberty Front Office or Madison Square Garden brass or the Dolan Family were trying to slight Teresa Weatherspoon in any way. There are plenty of reasons to be mad, angry, disgusted, disgruntled, out for blood and vicious to many of them...this isn't one of them. This wasn't one of those nights.

This was bigger than the obvious All-Decade slight. It was bigger at the veiled shots Richie Adubato would spend 2003 and 2004 taking at the only point guard who made him a winner as a head coach. It was bigger than Blaze's half hearted letter after Spoon signed with the Sparks. It was bigger than Blaze even letting that happen. It was bigger than half a season spent with a towel over her head and the next spent on a beach and a bench miles away on a team that loved her, but not like we did.

This night was again, about the one athlete who celebrated us.

Lil T, the girl who presented Spoon with the plaque at half court on Spoon Night, represented all of us. She represented those of us who walked away with not just a piece of paper and a memory, but a smile, a wink, a nod, a hug, a word of inspiration and a conversation feeling like we could always come back and continue right where we left off.

The 11 Weatherspoon printed on the Liberty court represented in my mind, the barrier between fan and player that Spoon always broke. The print isn't between the 4 lines...it's right in front of the fans, resting right where Spoon used to run up the sidelines hi-fiving the entire first and second rows after a crucial basket or on the way to the huddle for a timeout.

The plaque on the Madison Square Garden Walk of Fame represents the trancendance of sport, race, gender and class that Spoon accomplished in that very building. It exemplifies the fire, passion, grace and thousands of people that she brought to the arena every night.

The backboard represented all of the times you'd see Spoon holding the hand of an injured teammate writhing in pain on the court. It represented her sticking up for Rebecca Lobo in the media when everyone wanted to label her an overrated, injury prone bust. It represented her calling Vickie Johnson the most underrated athlete in sports. It represented all the times she intentionally fouled an opponent in the closing minutes of a game to get some minutes for yet another combo guard masquerading as her back up. It represented all of the teammates whose arms she lept into after they converted a big play.

It represented all of the times she threw a great, yet unexpected pass only to watch it sail out of bounds...but would still raise a hand, say it was her bad and pat Sue, Tari, Tamika or Kym on the back on the way down the floor telling them she'd get it to them next time down. It represented all of the times she and VJ looked like the most intimidating backcourt at Madison Square. It represented the hope and celebration of The Shot. It represented Spoon as always...inspiring, celebrating, motivating and believing in others as well as herself.

The post game huddle and acknowledgement of the fans with a signature fist pump or three, hopefully represented the future of this organization. The hugs and words delivered to the likes of Sherill Baker hopefully represented hugs we'll see after a big playoff game some day. For one night this season, the Liberty looked like The Liberty. It was no coincidence it was on account of Teresa Weatherspoon. It was no coincidence that Teresa Weatherspoon gets it. It's no coincidence that people looking for a cliche will tell you ten times over that she has a special relationship with the fans, but can't explain to you just what that relationship is.

August 5th, 2006 represented all of the things they try to tell us Liberty basketball still is, but we all know better. Spoon raised the game, the kids, the roof, the expectations and the intensity for 7 years. She was pure heart, pure passion and pure basketball. August 5th also represented what we all hope the current and future Liberty can take transform themselves into...a team that plays for pride...for New York...for the jersey on their backs, the name on the front and the fans in the stands. Count me as one fan who wouldn't mind if it took Teresa Weatherspoon herself to preside over this team and instill it into each and every one of them personally.