We are hunkered down around the little white television we use to have.
The television was my then girlfriend Debbie’s when we were in college, and it fits our current surroundings: a somewhat dingy, much too small, yet hoping to be more, one-bedroom apartment, that is really just a studio with a wall.
It is June 17, 1994.
We are watching Game 5 of the NBA Finals, the Knicks are playing the Rockets at the Garden, and we are hoping to watch them go up 3-2 in the series.
We want this win, we are focused on the game before us, and we are not moving.
The Knicks deserve our full attention and they must have it.
This is their night.
This is our night.