One Last Spectrum of Emotions

If it was up to the players, not only wouldn't they be tearing down the Spectrum later this year, they'd try to get the Sixers to play there more often.

With a sold-out 17,563 screaming like banchees and the outcome hanging in the balance, this was the rare night when the Sixers did enough damage down the stretch to escape with a 104-101 win over Michael Jordan's old team, the Chicago Bulls.

The numbers will say Thaddeus Young poured in a career-high 31 points, while Andre Iguodala added 25 to help push Tony DiLeo's team back over the .500 mark at 32-31, keeping them seventh in the East, but now 4 12 games ahead of those same Bulls’ for the East’s final playoff spot. They’ll also point to Samuel Dalembert yanking down 19 rebounds to go with his eight points and four blocks—capped by his rejecting Bulls’ rookie sensation Derrick Rose’s driving layup attempt with 20 seconds left and the Sixers clinging to a 102-101 lead.

But what the numbers can’t do is recreate the feeling, the energy that was coursing through the building last night. The joint was jumping once again—as they used to say in one of their trademark marketing slogans—for this one final fling in a building where so much of the franchise’s history—both good and bad--was made.

Of course they celebrated Doctor J., Moses Malone, Bobby Jones and others from the 1983 championship team, as well as the Wilt Chamberlain and Hal Greer-led 1967 title squad. At the same time there had to be many among the announced sold-out 17,563 on hand for the occasion who could vividly recall all those championship near misses, not to mention the abomination of 1973 when the Sixers posted what remains the NBA’s all-time record for futility, 9-73.

But to the current players who took the floor none of that mattered. While Andre Miller did snap pictures of the building and some of the greats who played here and turned out last night, he said that was for his nine-year-old son, Duane, as much as posterity.

``"It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to say that I played on the same court as some of the legends of the game," said Miller, who scored 13, while handing out as many assists. ``The atmosphere was actually better than our place (the Wachovia Center).

``It was louder, Like old-school basketball. ‘’

Dalembert, apparently inspired to play on the level of his predecessors like Spectrum big men Chamberlain, Malone and Caldwell Jones said it was special, too. "It was amazing," said Dalembert, who pulled down the rebound of Ben Gordon’s last-ditch 3-point attempt to force overtime, then jubilantly held it high above his head as time expired. "All the fans are right on top of you.

``You can only imagine the excitement and the smell from the '70s, the dust, and maybe there were some rats watching the game, too.’’

They watched a good one, as the Sixers took command of what had been a close game with a 13-2 surge to close the third period and take an 80-69 cushion into the fourth. Rookie Maurice Speights promptly scored to start the fourth—making it 82-69—before the Bulls came charging back.

Within five minutes they had tied it, 88-88, on former Sixer Tim Thomas’ 3-pointer. Later Chicago would take the lead, which see-sawed back and forth as the clock wound down. Finally, Miller sank three of four three throws to make it 101-98 inside a minute, only to see Gordon knock down a game-tying trey with 31.8 seconds left.

Iguodala opened the door a crack by sinking just one of two at the line moments later, before Dalembert helped slam it shut with his block of Rose, igniting a streaking Young for an uncontested dunk at the other end.

When Gordon’s final prayer went unanswered, the ghosts rattling around the Spectrum could finally smile. That was an exciting game on a special night," said
Sixers' coach Tony DiLeo, who used to observe from the same Spectrum bench as an assistant in the early 90’s "That's the way they write it in books."

The book is now closed on what they used to call “America’s Showplace.’’ It ended fittingly, though, with a classic.

Farewell, then to those seats Philadelphia basketball fans will never sit in again—another old slogan based on the premise the crowd would be standing to cheer all the time. Goodbye to those friendly rims, the tiny locker rooms, the narrow hallway which separated the teams.

On a night when a full spectrum of emotions was on display the bottom line turned out to be good, exciting basketball.

Those who lived snd died with the fate of their teams in this building, who grew up from boys into men and girls into women along the way, had to know the Spectrum wouldn't go out any other way.