SAN ANTONIO — By the fourth quarter, both Victor Wembanyama and Jalen Brunson had shaken off their respective mediocrity and snapped on their capes. Game 1, the tone-setter of the NBA Finals, sat available for the taking like a last slice of pizza. And what had been a beautiful struggle between the San Antonio Spurs and New York Knicks evolved into a dramatic climax.
Brunson’s floater in the lane broke an 86-86 tie, and two finger rolls later, he had the visiting Knicks up by eight. Wembanyama, efforting to mitigate an off night, followed his pull-up 3-pointer in the face of Mitchell Robinson with a driving layup over Karl-Anthony Towns, plus the foul. Another pair of Wembanyama free throws with 2:16 remaining put the Spurs ahead by a point. Because, as he keeps showing, this man is made for moments. Even in a dud by his standards, as he moved like he still hadn’t fully recuperated from silencing the Oklahoma City Thunder, Wembanyama had something for crunch time.
We had what we came for, the percolating tension that gives the NBA Finals its appeal. Dueling titans debuting their greatness on this heightened stage, playing their craft under the greatest pressure they’ve known.
After the Spurs took the lead, Brunson took over one last time. The Knicks’ 6-foot-2 point guard outleaped Spurs wing Devin Vassell — who’s an athletic 6-foot-5 — for an offensive rebound. Brunson tipped it to Mikal Bridges and then relocated to the corner. When Bridges gave it back to Brunson, he was all alone for a corner 3.
Not a single sane soul in Frost Bank Center expected Brunson to miss. And he didn’t.
Clearly sensing the moment, as the 2025 Clutch Player of the Year does, and honoring the opportunity to become legendary, Brunson danced with Vassell seconds later. Everyone knew what was coming, especially the pockets of orange and blue among the Spurs’ pastel faithful. With Brunson’s arsenal of moves, however, there’s mystery in the method. How would he come through this time? To what move would he turn?
“Like the young people say,” Knicks coach Mike Brown explained, “he went to his bag …” and Brunson pulled out the receipt of his greatness. Hard drive right. Crossover left. Spin back right into a stepback. Pump fake and lean in. Brunson saw Wembanyama lurking, so he arced his shot enough to circumvent disruption.
It landed with a swish, a silky dagger in New York’s 105-95 road win to launch whatever new era is forming. It landed with a message. That the Knicks will be a problem for these vaunted Spurs. That this series, guaranteed to make history in some fashion, packs the potential of one we might remember for ages. Because in a battle of superstars, Wembanyama and Brunson have more than a foot between them. But in magnitude, in impact, they’re closer than they appear.
“He’s a gamer, man,” Brown said. “In the biggest moments, he shows up, and that’s what MVPs are supposed to do. We put the ball in his hands and said we are going to live and die with him. And he got it done for us.”
These weren’t banner performances by any means. Brunson needed 31 shots to get 30 points. Wembanyama made only 28.6 percent of his 21 shots but hit 12 of his 13 free throws to produce a respectable 26 points. The former attributable to rust, the latter to the need for rest.
“I expect he’ll learn a lot of things from (Game 1),” Spurs coach Mitch Johnson said of Wembanyama, “and come out with a good approach in Game 2.”
But the sparks still flew in Game 1. Their co-stars delivered. The intensity and physicality rose to the occasion. And Knicks fans penetrated San Antonio’s zealous confines and turned up the energy in the arena.
These NBA Finals don’t have the usual ingredients. No reigning MVPs. No championships to defend. No legacies to live up to or June demons to conquer. Only a precious few know the taste of championship champagne. And unless you count the NBA Cup, these two teams don’t have any rivalrous history since before Napster’s prime.
Yet, one game in, these NBA Finals feel like something special brewing, a story being crafted with calligraphic script.
Wembanyama gets a foe worthy of his stratospheric expectations. If he delivers against the hottest team in basketball, against an army of a fanbase, a metropolis of overwhelming proportions, his legacy would launch with luster.
Or, Brunson leads a legion of Knicks fans to levels only known by our fathers and grandfathers. And NBA history gets a new diminutive icon, in the fellowship of Isiah Thomas and Stephen Curry.
Either the Spurs plant the flag on its new dynasty, or the Knicks end a drought that’s lasted long enough for corduroy and vinyls to make a comeback.
“You never know what’s going to happen,” Brunson said. “Plays are going to happen, and you can’t really script what’s really going to go on.”
That’s the beauty of these finals. Nothing about them feels predetermined. Not the outcome. Not the hero. Not the lore that will emerge on the other side.
Wembanyama, either way, will write the opening chapter of the NBA’s latest anchoring superstar. Brunson, either way, has etched himself into the Knicks’ pantheon and into conversations no one ever imagined he’d enter. Neither produced a masterpiece, but both left visible fingerprints in the crafting of their defining series.
If Game 1 proved anything, it’s that the script remains gloriously unfinished. And ever compelling.
