To see something so good in a world gone bad

Just saw that today is the 41st anniversary of the Greatest Moment in NBA History.

For me, anyway.

On May 8, 1970, an injured Willis Reed, The Captain, limped onto the court and inspired his team to beat the Lakers in Game 7.

And oh that Knick team. Reed. Frazier, DeBusschure. Bradley. Cazzie Russell, Dick Barnett, and later Jerry Lucas and Earl "The Pearl" Monroe (also known as "Black Jesus). Maybe the smartest group of players ever, and one that really emphasized the concept of team.

During their run that included two championships, I regularly listened to Marv Albert on WNBC 660 do play-by-play. Night after night, the word "Yes!!" came out of my portable radio – one victory and amazing game after another.

I patterned my own extremely underwhelming game on Frazier, who for several years I considered the coolest man alive. He's still pretty cool, in fact.

As for the Reed game itself, I didn't watch it live. It was only a month after my mom had died -- a Friday night, and I had gone fishing earlier with my brother in an attempt, I think, to keep busy and try to distract me from the cloud that seemed to be hanging over me and our house. I honestly can't imagine any other reason why I would miss such an event.

But I did, and when I got home I turned on the TV to see the post-game. At that moment, I remember feeling happy but also that it didn't seem to matter much.

I've since watched highlights of that particular game hundreds of times and of course, that Knicks victory is a watershed sports moment in my youth.

But the greatness of that night still has a slightly bittersweet taste.

For me, anyway.

Strictly 100: Number 23 – The New York Knickerbockers of the early '70s