I boarded the plane from Toronto to New York with the hopes that my first trip to the famed Madison Square Gardens would be all that I had hoped.

Taking my seat on the tiny 50 seat express plane to NYC, I realized that I had forgotten what the 'Big Apple' was all about; I hadn’t been there since I was a kid.  I tried to recall the sights and sounds of the city and found it had all been lost to me, so I decided I was going to go into this trip with an open mind and experience everything as if it was my first time seeing the place.

I took out my book—Big Game, Small World by Alexander Wolff—and began to absorb all those global sports adventures.  I wanted all those stories, and as a history buff the idea of sitting in MSG was haunting.  I’d wanted to go for, whether it was for a ball game, hockey game, even a concert; anything to see the famous digs.

I could not have been luckier.  My introduction to MSC was a Knicks game, versus the Celtics at that!  It was a matchup with such historical potency it actually had me salivating.  The opportunity was too good to pass up.

When I arrived the sights, sounds, and smells of New York hit me like an Eddie Curry pick.  There was too much to do, too many places to see.  Because it was just late afternoon I decided to venture off to the classic tourist areas.  I was staying in midtown at an upscale hotel (courtesy of some connections) and asked the concierge where I could find the NBA store.  I had only heard about the delights that awaited me.

I walked down the streets of Manhattan, bundled up, neck hurting from the turning to see everything that I could.  Feeling as though I was floating midair, I passed famed clothing outlets only wishing that each store I passed would bring me to the NBA store.  

And there it was.  Wooden handles with carved 'NBA'.  I felt a strange sense of relief.  Deep breath and...open.  Flashes of green and white hit me first (Celtics gear smattered all over the front of the store).  Then black, red, orange, teal, and white.  The colors of the rainbow put to basketball logos.  I felt like a kid in a candy store, running down the ramp, arms flailing in the air, spurting out bursts of childish laughter as I rummaged through the jerseys, t-shirts, throwback gear and warm-up shirts that I could find nowhere else.

I gathered all I could (essentially all I could afford, which was not much).  Seeing the bill that I’d racked up I wanted to cry.  But knowing it was for a good cause (my love of ball) I walked out with a big smile on my face.  I went to bed that night in my new shorts.  It was perfect.

The next morning, I woke up ready to spend the day sightseeing.  Then I had to pick up my tickets at will-call.  Because I didn’t yet have my tickets I had no verification of game time so I checked the morning paper at 11:00 AM…it said game time was 1:00 PM.  I nearly lost it.

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