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I hope that Riley and O'Neal will take the time to explain the magnitude of this opportunity to the Heat organization. The entire organization. I'm thinking full-staff meeting at the Triple-A. Ticket sales reps, broadcasters (like my man Eric Reid, who's waited nearly twenty years for this), community relations staff, interns, DJ Irie, everybody. They need to hear it.

Here's why: in 1995, when the Orlando Magic rolled to the NBA Finals against Hakeem Olajuwon and the Houston Rockets, I was finishing my first year as a full-time employee in the Magic's broadcast department. A young pup, like everybody else in that front office. Shaquille O'Neal was in his third year in the league; second-year guard Penny Hardaway was already one of the five best players in the NBA. The rest of the starting five - Horace Grant, Nick Anderson, Dennis Scott - were all in the prime of their careers, all under the age of 30. The Magic had closed the Boston Garden in the first round. They shut down the mighty Bulls in the second round, catching Jordan while he was shaking off his Birmingham Baron rust. They looked the Pacers in the eye in the Eastern Conference Finals - the mean, nasty Pacers of Reggie, Smits, McKey, Byron Scott, Mark Jackson, Haywoode Workman, Sam Mitchell, and the still-bouncy Davis Boys - and stared them down in seven games. Orlando was loopy. This was only the beginning. We thought it would never end.

Boom.

Missed free throws led to a Kenny Smith three, which led to an Olajuwon putback, which led to a sweep, which gave way to 60 wins the following season, which brought back an angry Jordan, which was followed by Shaq bolting to La-La Land (for less money), which placed the burden on Penny, who ended up in Phoenix, and the next thing we knew, it was "Heart and Hustle" and a conga line of bad draft picks and new head coaches. I'm glazing over ten years of NBA basketball, but that's how quick it felt. A snap of the fingers. Dwight Howard, Jameer Nelson, Darko Milicic, and 16 wins in 22 games may have lifted the franchise's momentum this spring, but it was a very long time coming.

We thought it would never end. That's the message that I'd be drilling into heads on Biscayne Boulevard right now. This must be your time, because it can vanish in a heartbeat.

Pat Riley knows this, of course, probably better than anyone. I'm sure he had at least a similar thought as he cradled the Larry O'Brien trophy for the fourth time in 1988 - "I'm just getting warmed up." That was eighteen years ago. If anyone can convey the message of desperation, it must be Riley.