I'd be remiss not to at least mention the Toronto Raptors' historic victory in defeating the highly-favoured Golden State Warriors for the 2019 NBA Championship. Toronto has always been considered an outsider in professional sports in North America, as either the only Canadian team in the major American-dominated leagues, or at best one of a small handful. It has also largely been an underachiever and an underdog (although Toronto did win the MLS soccer championship last year, a fact often glossed over, even if soccer still does not quite have the cachet of hockey, baseball or basketball here).
So, the city's NBA win has become a major defining moment, of the type where people will say in years to come, "where were you when...?" Now, I have no idea where I was when J.F. Kennedy was killed (I was only four!); I was glued to the television in my home in Derbyshire when Neil Armstrong first walked on the moon; and I have only vague memories of the morning of 9/11.
But I can say quite specifically where I was during the final game of the 2019 NBA Championship: I was in Stratford, Ontario, watching a good but rather earnest play by a little-known 18th Century German playwright (Nathan the Wise by Gotthold Ephraim Lessing). Well, what can I say? It was booked six months ago, and who knew then that the Raptors would still be paying basketball? So, I couldn't watch the game but, in the bus on the way back to Toronto, I and many others were glued to our cellphones for the final one-and-a-half quarters, including the interminable time-outs in the dying seconds. When full-time was called, we were on the 401 somewhere near Guelph, and a weak cheer and a series of whoops went up from our ageing contingent of theatre-goers.
The bus dropped on on the outskirts of Toronto, unwilling to brave the celebrating crowds and chaos in the city centre, and we had to get the subway back at around 12:30am. So, we did get to witness some of the ongoing celebrations at first hand, as delirious fans - on their way home from friends' or heading down to Jurassic Park for more extended celebrations - made their presences felt in a very noisy and boisterous manner. It was all good-natured, and did not feel threatening in any way. Hell, we even felt ourselves part of it.
Closer to home, nearer to 2am, fans were still cruising up and down Danforth Avenue, leaning on their horns, and everyone had a smile on their faces (as they did even the next day). It's not often Toronto wins something big (the last time the whole city got behind a sports team was the Toronto Blue Jays' glory days of 1992-1994, some 25 years ago, and before that another generation earlier, with the Maple Leafs dominance of hockey in the mid-'60s). This was a moment of pride, inclusivity and unbridled joy, regardless of the fact that Toronto's team is essentially composed of Americans. It brought all sorts of unlikely bedfellows together in a surge of goodwill and shared gratification. It was a victory for the underdog which will not soon be forgotten.
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