It is rare to launch a countdown right after the first contest of the NBA finals, yet these represent rare circumstances in New York. The Knicks have tallied the days since Richard Nixon occupied the White House, their coach Mike Brown was only three years old, and their rival the San Antonio Spurs competed in the ABA under the name Dallas Chaparrals. After New York captured Game 1 by a 105-95 margin, anticipation throughout the city climbed once more.

Game 1 lacked polish yet proved compelling. The opening quarter appeared disjointed, and the second followed suit. Neither side found the mark from long range, with the Knicks converting 31 percent of threes and the Spurs hitting 26 percent. Victor Wembanyama, the league's presumed successor, opened his finals career with six turnovers and a 6-for-21 shooting night, showing defensive energy without reaching peak form. Both Wembanyama and the Knicks' steady, often overlooked leader Jalen Brunson attempted nine threes and made two apiece.

Viewed for grace or precision, the contest resembled a slog through mud, yet quality need not hinge on elegance. Its impact stemmed from unrelenting pressure and the disorder born of total commitment plus the heavy expectations carried by every participant. The Knicks have not claimed an NBA title since 1973, and the city continues to wait for the moment it can finally exhale. The tension builds not merely game by game but possession by possession.

In 1994 the New York Rangers met Vancouver in the Stanley Cup finals while seeking their first crown since 1940, and the atmosphere carried a comparable charge. Fifty-four years had passed. Many supporters had never witnessed a Rangers championship. Those who had were older and shared the belief common to long-suffering groups that victory would remain out of reach. The black-and-white footage from 1940 felt distant, belonging to an era before the United States entered World War II and embraced the slogan America First.

Even though these Knicks last triumphed when color broadcasts were standard, the span of time remains vast. The Rangers endured 54 years before their supporters could relax; the Knicks have now waited 53 years and counting. The atmosphere during Game 1 therefore carried the same tight strain found in overtime playoff hockey or late-inning baseball.

That strain showed in the frantic opening minutes and the shifting emotions Knicks fans expressed online. Viewers witnessed something beyond ordinary basketball, where each possession carries extra weight because the usual rhythm of the sport rarely feels urgent until the closing moments.

1973 now sits nearly as far back as 1940 did for Rangers fans in 1994. Director and devoted Knicks follower Spike Lee was 16 at the time. While cameras captured supporters' faces shifting between joy and unease, the Knicks performed with greater assurance than many of their followers displayed, which felt fitting. No prior Knicks squad has matched this group's level of excellence and control. They have posted six wins in their last 12 outings by margins of 20 or more points, four by 30-plus, and one by 51, yet they have not settled into the relaxed confidence once associated with the Yankees. The Knicks have not lost since April 23, when Atlanta defeated them in Game 3 of the opening round. They have since played 12 games and won them all. Trailing 94-86 on Wednesday, the Spurs used a nine-point surge led by Wembanyama to take a 95-94 lead with 2:16 left, then scored no more. The Knicks responded with an 11-0 finish that underscored their growing command.

That command, if it holds, continues to be personified by Brunson, who again proved the standout performer in decisive moments. He misfired on 15 of his first 22 attempts yet finished five of nine when the outcome hung in balance. Brunson stands apart from the anxious supporters, unfazed by the strain and instead drawn to it, convinced of the eventual result.

In San Antonio the pressure differs. The Spurs captured their most recent title 12 years ago and own five over the past 27 seasons. No one along the Riverwalk grows overly anxious during routine third-quarter action.

The Spurs' pressure involves watching with optimism, aware the future is theirs and hoping it arrives soon while remaining secure that they have appeared ahead of schedule. This contrast defines the series: one side desperate to erase a half-century of frustration, the other only beginning to explore its ceiling. Observers recognize the same truth about the Spurs, because Wembanyama challenges not only the NBA hierarchy but also America's long-held basketball identity. Each step in his growth weakens the nearly century-old American hold on international play. The Olympics approach in Los Angeles in 2028, and Wembanyama is creating a scenario never before seen: Team USA entering as an underdog. The Americans have lost before, yet they have always been favored.

On this evening, however, he appeared ordinary. The tall, still-developing forward expected to produce something extraordinary on every touch looked physical and unsettled, defended well by Karl-Anthony Towns. While Brunson finished strong with a fadeaway, an offensive rebound that preserved possession and set up a decisive corner three during a 13-point fourth quarter, Wembanyama drove recklessly with a one-point lead, missed, then lost the ball at midcourt after slipping.

Only Game 1 has been played, and much basketball remains, yet these Knicks may already have given their fans reason to follow the rest of the series with greater belief. The year 1973 truly lies far in the past, and for Knicks supporters every remaining game will carry similar weight until the long wait concludes, chests tight and braced for disappointment even while their team twice overcame double-digit deficits and answered the Game 1 test the same way it has for the past six weeks: by performing like the strongest squad in the league.

Howard Bryant is the author of 11 books, including The Heritage: Black Athletes, A Divided America, and the Politics of Patriotism and Kings and Pawns: Jackie Robinson and Paul Robeson in America.