2026 NBA Finals Game 4 PREcap: Knicks 107 (3) – Spurs 106 (1)

As I write these words, the Spurs lead the Knicks 59-38, about halfway (!!!) through the second quarter.  It was worse a minute ago but we just got a couple of transition layups by Brunson.  Spurs called a timeout, I’m watching a Popeye’s commercial.

I have two little kids who need to get out of the house early in the morning, I have to get myself downtown to work also, so I’m starting this now.  No reason to be up til 1 AM for this nonsense. Let’s just watch and write and see where we go.

I will say that being able to feel cynical and partly broken by an NBA Finals game instead of a routine December loss to the Magic or some such makes me feel like a higher class of sap than during the old days.

Hukporti tied up Wemby, jump ball turned into volleyball and ended, of course, in a Spurs three.  Vassell, Castle, Sam Cassell, one of those guys. Not gonna rewind it. Spurs are roughly 37 for 8 from deep so far.

Brunson drives through contact, no call.  Ho hum.  You want me to talk about the refs, that’s what you came for. I know.  I don’t want to right now. Maybe at halftime.

Harper looks to me like Brunson but younger and quicker.  Wrote that after he coasted to the rim for a layup.  Was about to write that he just needs a more consistent three-ball but then he hit one.  Not gonna hit backspace.

Jeremy Sochan getting real minute tonight.  Ariel Hukporti getting real minutes tonight. Spurs now up 29. A waking nightmare, visiting us from another time.

Brunson misses a free throw.  He just seems not himself.  Starting to consider the possibility that we will look back on that stop to end Game 2 as the high point.  Of the season? The decades? Our lives. Dont’ think about that now.  Hart misses two free throws, Brunson hits a second-chance 3.  Down 25. Brunson hesi, leans into contact on a 20-footer.  I’m gonna write “Brunson makes both free throws” and see if it helps.

Brunson makes both free throws.

Nope, he missed the first one.  Still not hitting backspace. We look forward here because we don’t want to look at the carnage in the rearview.

Tim Legler says our goal is to get it under 20.  I personally think our goal should be to win 2 of the remaining games in the series but reasonable minds may differ.

I want to understand how we’re going to officiate Wemby.  Because he’s playing at a higher level than everyone else — and I mean this literally, there are things occurring a certain distance off the floor that only involve him — we may need SKY LAW REFORM. He kind of flips the ball to himself up there sometimes; is it a pass, is it a tip, is it basket interference? OK, now this motherfucker just stepped into a logo three and missed it, up 27.  Go to hell, man.  Halftime. 76-49.

I think they’re better than the Hawks.

OK. Halftime. What do I want to say about the refs? I don’t think any of the individual calls in this game have risen to the level of scandal, which is maybe going to put me in the minority based on everything I’m seeing in my texts and on social media.  As I’ve become a bigger soccer fan, though, I’ve started to look at the refs differently, as something more than accountants, more than jurors.  A well-officiated soccer match is one in which officials accept that they are incapable of reining in the chaos with total precision and work to establish basically consistent standards. Rather than aspiring to the impossible task of  getting through the game without either team’s fans complaining, they essentially attempt to make sure that both fans are complaining the same amount. That’s what I’ve felt has been lacking tonight and this week more generally.  The standards for a foul, for a technical, for a flagrant, have been a moving target all series, this fourth game is being officiated completely differently than the first three, and the calls at the margins — even in the games we won — have generally seemed to go the same way.  You can point to a handful of calls so far tonight that, with any luck, could have gone the other way. But then, it would truly have been luck. None of the individual calls tonight have been terrible (nothing as egregious as the missed flagrant on Wemby in Game 3, for example). But I’m as annoyed as you are that we can’t seem to catch a break.

So: OK.  There’s the red meat.  I gave you what you wanted.  But guess what folks: who cares! We’re playing like shit and the Spurs can’t miss.  Our close-outs are lazy, we’re being beaten repeatedly in transition, the beautiful, liquid movement of players and ball that we’ve seen on offense for the last couple months is utterly absent.  We’re down 27.  You want to be down 18? Cool, then you can blame the refs.

OG has been awesome, 14 in the first, just hit a three to open the second half. Looks like the one human in a fucking muppet movie out there.

Wemby elbows KAT in the jaw.  If they’d called the Wemby flagrant on Brunson last game, and if they upgrade this one, then he’d be suspended for next game.  All this shit matters, but you can’t holler too loud when you’re down 29 either. It’s 29 again, by the way.  Also, this game feels like it started 6 weeks ago. They call the flagrant.

Wemby is gonna get a rep as a dirty player pretty soon, wouldn’t be shocked if he already has one among players. League isn’t gonna want that, from a brand perspective.  It’s a subplot for the future, doesn’t really matter now.

Spurs take a quick, silly three.  Long rebound. Great cut by OG and find by Hart, Anunoby with the flush.  We have to win this series in transition, not against settled defense. Jalen buries a three.  Down 22! The crowd goes wild!

Lineup stat to keep an eye on: Raekwon, Method Man, and Ghostface Killah are currently a +5.

I’m a big tennis fan too — you’ll notice I’m spending a lot of this talking about sports besides basketball! not a coincidence! — and you always have to remind yourself that if you’re up a set and down 5-0 in the second, you’re actually still winning the match. They could go up 100 and until the final whistle, we’re technically still winning the series and go to bed no worse than tied.

Breen reminds us about the big comebacks against the Celtics lsat year.  Not really making me feel better about this one but it always fun to remember that the Celtics couldn’t get past THE SIXERS this year. Lol. Lmao. Schadenfreude really has its purpose.

If you’re reading this and thinking “This isn’t very good, I’m not sure where he’s going with this gimmick” I am here to tell you (1) I know and (2) nowhere.

My wife just walked in and changed the TV settings from “dark mode” to max brightness.  And an OG three instantly cuts it to 19! Wizard Of Oz shit in my living room.  Welcome to Munchkinland! Knicks gobbling up rebounds.  Keep your heads.  19 points with 17:33 left to play is, at least, into “crazier things have happened” territory.

Wemby to the bench now, Shamet/Alvarado come in for us. Smallish lineup with Brunson, Hart, and KAT at the 5.

Hart immediately hits a three.  It’s 16 now.  If this is gonna happen we need to take a BIG bite now with Wemby on the bench.  Get a stop or two and this place gets LOUD.

The stop comes. Shamet misses a transition three. Hart goes up in a sea of black shirts and tips out the rebound and gets fouled by Kornet in the process.  Deafening “Let’s go Knicks” chant.  If it’s gonna happen, it’s gotta happen now.

Castle draws a foul and makes two. This guy seems to have grown a lot over the course of this postseason and even this series.  He’s ice right now.  This is a young core finding itself; the prospect of being a footnote is miserable. KAT just picked up his fourth on a Harper blow-by. The air is out of the balloon.  Harper makes 2, Spurs by 20.

This post is basically art therapy at this point.  I implore you to scroll to the comments.  I’m not planning to edit this.

Brunson draws a third on Harper and sees his 20 foot heave drop.  Makes the freebie.  Harper answers.  Can’t get enough stops to eat into this lead. Still down 19. Brunson middy and it’s 17. Harper airballs a three and the crowd gets loud.  Timeout Spurs. Maybe? Nahhh.  But…maybe?

In the 1996 World Series, the road team won the first 5 games: Braves, Braves, Yankees, Yankees, Yankees.  Yanks close it out at home in 6.  Maybe the best night of your humble correspondent’s sports life? A repeat of the pattern here would top it.  The only thing that I can imagine could be better than your baseball team winning it all when you’re 11 is the world showing you that it still has some magic in store for you when you’re 40.

Word count: 1514.  It’s not even the fourth quarter yet guys.  I haven’t said ANYTHING. I’m wandering down a text window on a WordPress page because to stop would be to sit quietly and contemplate that this might be our best chance for a generation and we might be blowing it.

But, no, not now.  We’re on an 18-6 run.  We have the ball.  Alley oop to Mitch! 5 assists for Jalen.  Down 15.  Surely not.

Fox and Wemby miss a combined three 3-pointers on one possession. Not even trying to use clock.  Still some of the arrogance of youth there, though it might be a net positive for them right now.

Wemby sure looks like he hit Clarkson with a moving pick.  No call, Vassel hits a three. Air out of the balloon again.  If you’re still reading, type “gramophone” in the comments, you win a prize.

OG gets the best roll of the night on a 3.  15 again, we’re on top of the flow now, crowd on it’s feet.  Still a huge mountain to climb.  Fox dribbles off his foot, out of bounds.  33 seconds left. Time for a two-for-one?  Get it to 10 at the quarter? Maybe???

No two-for-one.  One possession and it’s a shit show. All 5 players practically turn it over.  Wemby misses, this dude has not caught a single pass in the post tonight, at least that I can remember.  What happens when he realizes that he doesn’t have to make this fair for the other teams? Do we get another shot at this before he gets old, retires? Don’t think about that now. Down 15 after three.

Where would this rank among heartbreaks, if we just fall on our faces from here.  Don’t think about that now.  Wemby might have one more stretch on the bench and, if not, he is starting to look a little tired.  Two quick threes? Cut it to 9? Make them blink, get the crowd into it, grind it out?  I still haven’t hit backspace.  I’m leaving all the stupid, optimistic palpatations of a romantic heart here for you to see.  Laugh at me.  I’m not giving up on this team now.

We’ve got another challenge on what looks like a 50/50 out-of-bounds call. Mitch or Wemby? Wemby or Mitch? I was 22 years old when this game started.  I think Othella Harrington got some minutes in the first quarter.

14 minute long commercial break. Unclear at this point any time I see Jason Sudeikis whether he’s in character as Ted Lasso or not anymore.  It’s a life choice.

Knicks win the challenge, our ball, do nothing with it. Harper makes a layup. Mitch misses an alley oop.

I think the fairy dust is off Landry Shamet at this point.  It’s been very, very fun and he’ll never paying for a drink in a bar that I’m in for the rest of his life, but we need to win or lose this with our main dudes.  I really don’t want to spend the summer wondering what could have been if Bridges and OG and Hart had gotten more of Shamet and Clarkson’s minutes. Shamet misses another three. 10 minutes left, down 18.

Getting better looks but the absolute lid is on the basket right now. We’re playing better but to what end? Spurs have us at arms length, playing with their food.

Gorgeous cut by Bridges. Again, transition. Wemby swats at the block and misses, punches the padded stanchion. Bridges is the only guy on the team who doesn’t seem to care that Wemby is there. Brunson and Hart, they dribble into the lane, see him there, turn around and leave like the Grampa Simpson meme.  Bridges just takes his shot.  Doesn’t always go down, but really suits his personality. The guy just does his stuff, shows up every day, plays his defense, gets to his spots, puts it up when he sees the rim.  Exactly how you want your 4th or 5th best player to be wired. If we lose from here people will want to relitigate that trade again this summer. It will be exhausting. They built this team correctly; their timing might be shit.

2,200 words.  What am I doing?

Game back. Knicks get a stop.  I wrote that whole Bridges thing during the commercial break by the way.  This game began in 1992, I was six years old, Kiki Vandeweghe gave us a couple of good possessions.

KAT just drained a preposterous three from the wing, falling into the Spurs bench.  That’s really his first fourth quarter bucket of the series?  Jeez, man. Somehow we’re only down 12, a touch over seven minutes left. Maybe?  Nahhh.

My fear is that this game gets close enough that people really will be able to credibly blame the loss on the weirdly officiated first quarter.  That would bring me no comfort. If we’re gonna lose, let’s just lose. But, hey, better idea…

And, yeah! OG hits a three.  Same spot as KAT’s off a kick from Brunson.  And now an OG steal.  And a KAT runner in Wemby’s face!

Folks, we’re down 9! What is happening? 6:24 to go, Alvo fouls Castle on the floor.

Castle makes the pair.  Spurs already in the bonus.  There’s basically no way we can win this game if they don’t miss some free throws, no matter how good we are.

Jalen into traffic.  Gets fouled by Castle. That’s 5 on him.  Hmm? Makes both.  Back to 9.  Hmmmmmmm?

Spurs can’t hit a three all of a sudden.  Knicks need to protect the ball, Brunson’s had his pocket picked twice this quarter. But now: he gets to the rim. Scoop, glass, net.  We’re down 7.  5 minutes left.  Spurs saving their timeouts. Fox bricks a pull-up, Wemby tips it out of bounds. Our ball.

MAYBE?

OGUGUA ANUNOBY WIDE OPEN CORNER THREE.

Spurs 99, Knicks 95.

My sister lives in Hell’s Kitchen.  Just texted me, “The city is loud right now?”

“The streets?”

“Not even the streets. Just like screaming from various buildings.”

Screaming from mine too, but I’m a thousand miles away.  I don’t think she heard me, hope she didn’t too because that would almost definitely mean I woke my kids up.

OK Spurs ball.  This game began in 1957. Nat “Sweetwater” Clifton gave them a really good shift on the defensive end in the second quarter. Fox three.  Jalen layup. Wemby from the top of the key.  Down 7 again. not looking good.

Quick pass, quick pass, Alvarado three.  It’s 104-100.  OG is guarding Fox out to the three point line, miss, no rebound, out of bounds.  Knicks ball.

Breathe, Kevin. Breathe, reader.

Here comes Jalen.  4 starters plus Alvarado for Bridges.  Jalen three off the bounce!  WE’RE DOWN 1.  WHAT IS HAPPENING.

HART HART HART HART WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT.

The Ewing finger roll just happened again.  I want to die.

My computer wants to install updates.  I’m fighting it.

Wemby misses a free throw.  Garden up for grabs. Looks a little shook. Another? Please?

HE MISSED BOTH.

Knicks ball down 1.  1:45 left.  This is Brunson time.  Can it happen?

BRUNSON FLOATER.  WE’RE WINNING. 105-104, 1:22 LEFT.

Heart pounding.  I can’t stop typing now, I can’t stop this bit. I can’t shift the vibes.  Just keep typing, Kevin, just keep typing.

Castle steps on the baseline! Knicks with the lead and the ball.  This game started in 1777, I think Francis “The Swamp Fox” Marion hit a couple threes in the earlygoing.

Shot clock violation, Knicks gonna go offense defense, Spurs call timeout, with the ball.  We get a stop and they might need to foul.  Maybe?  MAYBE?

I might start laughing, I might start crying.  I might walk my dog to the Wisconsin state line tonight.

Surely you’re not still reading this but, if you are, you’re in the future. Can you call me? Can you tell me how this ends? I’m stuck in the bad place, where despair and hope collide. John McEnroe is high-fiving Larry David.  I haven’t spoken a coherent word out loud in an hour.  My wife understands, somehow, she’s here with me for whatever happens.

Fox misses a pull-up.  Somehow, we don’t protect the glass. Josh Hart.  Josh Hart of all people isn’t there for the rebound. Of all the ways to lose.

Castle back to the line.  He hasn’t missed on tonight.  He made big ones last game. He makes the first.

Please, hoops gods, please if you think some of those calls shouldn’t have gone against us.

MY POWER JUST WENT OUT.  THERE’S A STORM IN CHICAGO AND I LOST POWER BEFORE THE SECOND FREE THROW.

IT’S PITCH BLACK IN MY HOUSE.

It’s on my phone now.  I still don’t know if he made the second one.  I can’t post this because I do’nt have Wi-Fi.

I couldn’t make this up.  What is happening.

Googled it on my phone, still getting data. I guess he made it.  Our ball down 1. Worried our race is run.

My wife is here with her iPad.  The power isn’t coming back on. I’m on a small screen the rest of the way.

Brunson went to the rim, didn’t get the call.  Spurs in transition.  OG block.

OG Anunoby.  OG fucking Anunoby.

Alvarado about to go backcourt, either they give a foul or Brown called a timeout? Whichever it was, it saved us.  It’s our ball on the side, we have 6 seconds, we’re down 1.  You already know how this ends.

I’m sitting in a pitch black room in Chicago, my wife’s iPad on her lap.

I’m gonna stop typing, watch the possession.  See you on the other side.

********

HOLY SHIT

********

Brunson with the seemingly-too-fast trigger.  Left enough time for OG to sneak through, not a body on him, volleyball tip, into the basket.  McEnroe can’t believe it. Seinfeld can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.

I’m still sitting in the dark.  This game started in 1451, Mehmet the Conqueror had a dominant first quarter.

Gonna stop typing again, watch the Spurs possession.  See you on the other side.  Look out for the lob.

***********

OH. MY. GOD.

I am sitting in the dark.  I am gasping into the shoulder of my wife’s fleece.  Build the OG Anunoby statue.

************

Down by 29.  Down by 20 in the fourth. I don’t want to read this back. I don’t want to edit it.  This wasn’t supposed to be a bit when I started it.

I still don’t have power, I still don’t have WiFi. I still don’t have any bigger picture reflections on this.  Let me try:

This team has, all season, defined itself by taking every single opening left to it.  Refs be damned, luck be damned, 89-inch-tall basketball aliens be damned.  They haven’t given up.  We haven’t given up.  The crowd was deafening down 20, down 25. They made every possession matter.  They had a half-dozen “Dammit, there goes the last chance” moments, and made another chance.  And they win the game on a weak side offensive rebound and tip-in by their quietest star.

You let the Knicks hang around, you lose.  It’s that simple.  It’s been that simple.

We do this one more time, we’re home.

Gonna hotspot my phone and hit “post.”

See you Saturday.

Breathe.