Fewer passing angles are more difficult than the one to an invisible man. There is no player 22 sighting in this entire overtime until the final play at exactly the six second mark. When Hakeem has the ball with eight ticks left, there is no 22. Two seconds later, he pops up on screen like an animation trick, ready for a pass.
Fortunately that world was the crowded Rockets bench and not some demonic dimension hidden in the floorboards. “No. 22” is indeed a mortal and his name is Winston Garland. He’s a bit player, nearing the end of a short-lived NBA career. Though this “Winston Garland” scenario is more plausible than a supernatural incident, the act itself still confounds. Men usually don’t act this irrationally. What, exactly, happened?
In the biggest moment of the year, with Houston’s season and possibly Hakeem Olajuwon’s legacy on the line, this backup shooting guard just walked right onto the court. He did not wait for a dead ball. He did not wait for a coach's instruction. He did not check in at the scorers table. He did not even wait for a teammate to sub out.
He just waltzed onto the floor, an errant sixth man, joining the battle in defiance every rule and structure that governs the game.
He simply joined the action and started playing. And though it was right there in front of everybody, nobody did anything to stop him.
i remember that bullshyt
