The Magazine's Tim Keown is writing a feature on everyone's favorite ex-Warrior (no, not Clifford Ray!) for the next issue. He sent in this take on last night's Return.

They cheered Latrell Sprewell in Oakland on Monday night, and if that isn't full circle, what is?

Not everyone cheered him, of course, because many people here in the land of The Incident still regard him as the man who brought down the Warriors' franchise, maybe once and for all. Still, P.J. Carlesimo wasn't there this second time around, and the cheers outweighed the boos.

"Surprise," Sprewell said. "Big surprise."

As you might expect, there were the usual number of I-paid-my-money clowns who shouted their usual number of tasteless comments. As an aside, Sprewell reported the following: There is no new or clever way to incorporate choking into your heckling repertoire. He's heard it all, to the point where he doesn't even hear it anymore.

He did hear Chris Porter, however, and what Sprewell heard from the rookie was his second surprise of the night. Porter, having a career game, started spouting at Spree early in the third quarter and never let up. Before this point, Spree was everywhere at once, without much in the way of visible purpose. He was having a poor shooting night, and a poor defensive night, and in general he ran around the court with all the direction of a kid pretending he's an out-of-control airplane. But after heading into halftime with four points, Sprewell ended with 17.

"I wasn't into the game until the young fella started talking," Sprewell said. "I should have thanked him, but he shouldn't have done that, because I wasn't doing much till then."

But the biggest surprise of the night had nothing to do with the Sprewellian soap opera. It was the game, a tremendous 89-87 OT win by the Knicks. From Glen Rice's game-saving three to send it to OT, to Antawn Jamison's 41 points to Porter's loud 24, it was a night of surprises. Outside the visitors' locker room, Knicks' president Dave Checketts was recalling the dinner-table discussion he had with his sons the night before New York traded for Sprewell. The 16-year-old was aghast. He got up and said, "No. No. No." He pleaded with his father to change his mind.

Then the 12-year-old, listening to his brother, calmly looked at his father and said, "Dad, don't we believe in second chances?"

Tim Keown is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail tim.keown@espnmag.com.