White Hot Heat

Greatest Sports Memory
by Gina Carrano

Having grown up a Knicks fan, I’m no stranger to basketball heartache. The 90s were an excruciating time to root for New York. Every year, I was sure the Knicks were destined to win it all. And every year they proved me wrong. I’d stare through childhood tears at the TV, watching in agony as Jordan and the Bulls celebrated another one.

After all this painful defeat, it was with much trepidation that I finally followed Pat Riley over to the Miami Heat around 2003. The Heat were a talented team, and it was easy to root for class players like Eddie Jones and the rapidly developing Dwayne Wade. But was I setting myself up for the same disappointment again? After a few seasons of early playoff exits, I feared I was. But in 2006, D-Wade and the Heat finally had their date with destiny. And how lucky I was to be along for the ride.

When the 2006 NBA Finals opened, I was riding the high of the pounding the Heat put on the cocky, classless Detroit Pistons to win the Eastern Conference. However, I knew there was still much work to be done. The formidable Dallas Mavericks stood between the Heat and my dreams, and for the first two games of the series, they made the Heat look like overmatched amateurs.

When the Finals headed to Miami with the Heat down 0-2, my championship hopes were all but buried. But I still held on, hoping they could come back and prove the many doubters wrong. With my heart in my stomach, I watched as the Heat accomplished the unimaginable in game 3—crawled, scratched and fought their way back from a huge deficit to take the game, with the peerless Gary Payton hitting the game-winning shot at the last second. Now it was a series again, and my hopes were renewed as a fan.

Games 4 and 5 were so exciting and gratifying that I couldn’t really coherently recount them if I tried. What I will never forget, though, is the joy of watching everybody contribute. Udonis Haslem’s relentless defense and quick rebounds. James Posey and Antoine Walker stealthily hitting their 3s. Jason Williams’ steals. Shaq’s attacks in the paint—the Big Fella even made a couple of free throws along the way. Alonzo Mourning’s blocks, but more importantly, the heart and passion with which he plays the game. And last but never least, the Jordanesque heroics of Dwayne Wade.

Heat fans always knew Wade was made to produce in the clutch. In the Finals, he proved it to the world. Like clockwork, every fourth quarter he’d spring into action, devastating Dallas’ defense with his crossover dribble, attacking the rim, scoring like mad, living for the moment, owning it, with absolutely no regard for anything else. He was grace under pressure personified.

Game 5 was very suspenseful, with both teams battling as hard as championship hopefuls ever had. The lead see-sawed back and forth throughout regulation, but Wade came through again in the final seconds, sinking a clutch bankshot to tie the score. We were going to overtime! I sat on my couch, transfixed, afraid to even shift the position in which I was sitting, lest I break Mourning’s concentration or impede Walker’s vibe. I sweated. I fretted. I prayed. And the Heat came through! Again Wade got it done, hitting 2 of 2 free throws late in overtime that proved enough to win the game. I screamed and jumped for joy, my exuberant fist-pump mirroring my hero Alonzo Mourning’s celebration on TV, right down to the Livestrong bracelets we both sported.

Game 6 in Dallas was just a formality. The Heat had already done the dirty work, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat through those three tumultuous home games. Sure enough, they won easily. The exhilaration as Shaq hoisted the trophy, the joy of watching as Wade was presented with the MVP, the bliss of Mourning and Payton finally capturing that elusive title, the pride in Pat Riley’s eyes—these are things that will be forever etched in my mind when I think of my 2006 World Champion Miami Heat, the team that finally made a true believer out of me.