Spurs napping, or plotting?

It is not normal for the road team to take the first two contests of the NBA Finals, an unanticipated advantage only a sprained ankle or diverted flight would create. Luckily, league history hasn't given us any injury flukes or unfortunate caveats to consider: Orlando was not ready to beat the champion Rockets even at home in 1995, the Shaq-led Magic were swept out of the playoffs in 1994 and 1996, so.

And in 1993 the Phoenix Suns were playing Michael Jordan, so.

The advantages and disadvantages take on the image of their creators, in each instance a simmering MVP in his 30s wrests hold over a younger team that cannot understand why working life isn't working, all the sudden.

This year's Knicks own no such MVP. And do the Spurs at all resemble this archetype?

Victor Wembanyama's Game 2 misstep is Nick Anderson's Game 1 free throws in 1995, we get it, but those Finals were in a different world, with a 2-3-2 design. Far more enervating to head toward the road for three games while down 0-2 than it is to head to Madison Square Garden for two games. Leave on Sunday midday and back early Thursday morning for a home game on Saturday.

Of course, the Spurs have to win an actual game first. Take a lead and sustain it until the clock runs out, not a tie, a lead.

Are they, dem Spurs, that image?

The least-elevated comparison I can lend to this year's Spurs and this year's Knicks was felt when I walked directly between Tim Duncan and Ben Stiller (on Christine Taylor's arm) on the way toward the media elevator directly before Game 2. Duncan was in jeans and t-shirt and used to making himself feel far, far closer to earth than the 6-11 he was listed as. The top of my head is 13 inches shorter than Tim's and yet it felt as if my left shoulder was even with Duncan's right, TD daring me to step behind him and try to defend his lefty hook over the middle.