It was one of the most memorable moments in sports, fresh then and familiar now, for its spontaneity and its context and its graciousness. You’ve heard it, right? Sure, you have. And maybe you first heard it on a Sunday afternoon in May 1982, as it drifted down from the rat-infested rafters of a stinking hot arena, from somewhere above a basketball court riven with flood-board cracks and dead spots, from three guys who wanted to pay respect to a team that they weren’t even rooting for.
Set the scene: The 76ers are leading the Celtics by 12 points with 26 seconds left in Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals.