Photo credit: KarynStepien.com.
With the shot clock off and victory well in-hand, Negus Webster-Chan took a three from the left corner. Unsurprisingly, this ruffled the feathers of the Rio Grande Valley Vipers, who were already looking down a blowout defeat in Game 3 of the D-League Finals. In moments, they’d be forced to leave the Hershey Centre floor as Raptors 905 celebrated their championship, and they apparently didn’t appreciate having the chance to leaving quietly.
The shoving and arguing that ensued resulted in the 905 having to delay their celebration while officials sorted out penalties, awarded technical free throws, and then added 1.8 seconds to the clock. Because sure. Included among the three ejections was Fred VanVleet, who was perplexed at being thrown out for an interaction with his friend Chinanu Onuaku, but who had bigger priorities on his mind as he donned a 2017 D-League Champions cap and sat on the scorer’s table.
Looking over, he yelled for a score update. The Toronto Raptors were in the process of trying to close out their own series against the Milwaukee Bucks, and VanVleet, who spent all but four days of that series with the parent club, was perplexed at the answer he received.
“Up by seven?”
This caught the attention of 905 general manager Dan Tolzman, who turned to hear the confirmation. Tolzman had been sitting in his customary spot in a media area behind the 905 bench, where he and Raptors basketball operations coordinator Isaac Lax had balanced a laptop on a spare chair to keep an eye on Game 6. A row in front of those seats and just to their left, media and a few other staffers had huddled around a Macbook Air with a broken video card, hoping intermittent lines of technicolor or thick black would cease. As the fracas on the floor began to clear, VanVleet once again turned for an update. Raptors by five, 4:50 to go.
The (second) final buzzer sounded, and the 905 had no choice but to shift their attention to the matter at hand: They’d won the D-League Championship. The Raptors would be just fine with a lapse in attention.
Inside the room, head coach Jerry Stackhouse gave the team a lengthy speech about brotherhood and what they had accomplished together. He would later dedicate the victory to Nathan Smith, his father Chris, and their entire family in a touching moment. Smith is a child with cystic fibrosis who has grown to be a part of the 905 family this season, traveling for some road games, and working as honorary coach for a day. The family couldn’t make the final game, but Stackhouse was sure to take time to lend the perspective of what people go through outside of the game, and how great a tool can be for inspiring, bringing joy, and making lasting impacts and relationships. It was really nice, and the family was emotional and appreciative when learning of it through social media later on.
When the locker room doors opened to media, the insta-stale smell of champagne wafted into the Hershey Centre hallway, where among others, Nerlens Noel waited. Noel, a good friend of Goodlubk Okonoboh, stood idly as 905 players and staff wandered in and out of the area leading from the locker room to the court. From inside came roars, laughter, and random shouts. Okonoboh, champagne bottle in his right hand, popped his head back in to the small office leading to the change room and stopped, wide-eyed, at the scene he saw.
Huddled there in the office, rather than celebrating, was a significant handful of staff and players. On the TV screen that hung above the door was the Raptors game, still in its dying seconds. Not even the Raptors pushing the lead to seven with 33 seconds to go was enough to reignite the libations. This group knows that Raptor team too well, and the room remained tense as the Bucks fought back once more, a collective groan emitted when the Bucks were awarded the ball a few seconds later.
A good defensive possession gave way too early, and Jason Terry hit a three to make it a two-point game. Brady Heslip pushed through the room, followed shortly by director of team operations John Wiggins, biting on the end of a cigar in his best Will Smith impression. Tolzman looked nervously around the room, while E.J. Singler’s eyes darted everywhere but the screen and Yanick Moreira poked his head into viewing range.
After DeMar DeRozan missed a second free throw, the office grew quiet. Giannis Antetokounmpo had the ball, dribbled out some clock, and then made the mistake of charging for a late dunk rather than finding a three to tie. As DeRozan sank the first of his free throws, Singler broke the silence, as if to convince himself it was acceptable to once again feel good about what they had accomplished.
“Dagger.”
The others waited until the final fraction of a second ticked off the clock, let out sighs or cheers of relief, and filtered out to continue on. Singler joined Will Sheehey, well enough in his recovery from a dislocated elbow to handle his own champagne bottle, Okonoboh reunited with Noel, and Tolzman took his place with Wiggins and Shelby Weaver doing the rounds of the arena, thanking and congratulating and hugging and snapping pictures. Elsewhere on the court, Bruno Caboclo took pictures with whoever asked, his long arms working as a natural selfie stick, his smile after the best game of his career enormous. VanVleet changed out of his booze-soaked gear quickly, Antwaine Wiggins carried his daughter around celebrating, John Jordan’s megawatt smile greeted everyone he passed.
Plans for shortly after were bandied about, rides organized, timing and guest list and bottles coordinated. The celebration would continue from here, the championship marking the culmination of a long, incredible season for the 905ers. For the staff who split their time between both teams, including the three assignment players who were instrumental in securing the championship, appreciating that end would have to be momentary, because there are larger goals still to accomplish a little ways down the Gardiner.
The last player out of the room was Pascal Siakam, the D-League Finals MVP trophy tucked under one arm and a bottle in the opposite hand. His right ankle wrapped heavily in ice, the Raptors’ rookie limped toward the doors quietly, a satisfied grin on his face, his road back to his triumphant Raptors teammates now paved with gold.
