In the vast and storied history of the NBA Finals, there have been countless unforgettable moments—buzzer-beaters, comebacks, heartbreaks, and legacies made in the crucible of competition. Yet, among all those iconic plays and historic performances, one moment now stands alone in its drama and improbability. Only one team since 1971 has taken its first lead of an NBA Finals game with under one second remaining on the clock. It’s a statistical oddity. A rare combination of resilience, patience, and sheer willpower. And it speaks volumes about the chaotic beauty of basketball at its highest level.
To understand the gravity of this achievement, consider how difficult it is to win any Finals game. You’re facing the best of the best, a worthy opponent who has fought through the same playoff gauntlet. Every second counts. Every mistake is magnified. And every lead is earned through grit, execution, and hustle.
For most of a Finals game, one team typically asserts control early. Leads shift back and forth, momentum swings, but teams usually manage to take their first lead within the first half—or at the latest, by the third quarter. To go an entire game without ever leading, only to grab your first—and only—lead with less than a second left is nearly unthinkable.
Yet, that’s exactly what happened.
This remarkable feat took place in one of the most tense and fiercely contested Finals games in recent memory. The team—down for virtually the entire game—kept fighting. Every time they narrowed the deficit, the opponent responded. Every run was answered. Every clutch shot seemingly nullified by the other side. It was a back-and-forth battle, but not in the traditional sense—because one team never quite got over the hump. Not until the final second.
With under ten seconds left and the opposing team up by a mere two points, fans expected overtime or a heroic tying shot at best. What followed was far more dramatic.
The underdog team executed a perfectly drawn final play—something they had perhaps practiced hundreds of times, but never under pressure quite like this. A screen, a quick inbound, a slip by the defender, and then—a pass into the corner. The shooter, tightly guarded, rose up and fired. The ball arced high into the air, spinning slowly against the arena lights. Time seemed to freeze.
And then—swish.
The crowd erupted in disbelief. The shot had not only gone in—it gave the team their first lead of the night, with less than a second remaining on the clock. The scoreboard flipped. From trailing the entire game to suddenly leading in the blink of an eye. The arena shook with energy. The impossible had just happened.
Since 1971, no NBA team had accomplished this in the Finals. That’s over five decades of Finals games—hundreds of quarters, thousands of possessions—and no one else had managed to pull ahead for the first time with so little time left. It speaks not only to the drama of the Finals but also to the mental toughness and belief required to stay in a game where you’ve never led.
To go nearly 48 minutes without gaining an advantage and still believe you can win? That takes a rare kind of mindset.
Basketball is a game of runs and rhythm. Most coaches would tell you that if you’re trailing for three straight quarters, it becomes mentally draining. Players start forcing shots. Coaches gamble on defensive schemes. Fatigue sets in. But this team never blinked. They never let the scoreboard define their spirit. They played possession by possession, defended with purpose, and waited for just one opening to flip the script. When that opening came, they didn’t flinch.
The stat sheet for the game reflected their struggles: they shot below 40% through three quarters, were outscored in the paint, and lost the rebounding battle. Yet they won the one stat that matters most—the final score. Because sometimes, it’s not how many minutes you lead, but when you take the lead that defines greatness.
Moments like this are why we love sports. They remind us that nothing is over until it’s truly over. That underdogs can bite, that belief can triumph over adversity, and that a game is never decided until the last tick of the clock.
For the fans of this team, that shot—that moment—will live forever. It will be replayed for generations, talked about in barbershops, sports bars, and family dinners. It will become part of Finals folklore, nestled among the most dramatic finishes the NBA has ever seen.
For the players, it’s a testament to their grit. For the coaches, a validation of trust and strategy. For the league, a reminder that even after more than 50 years, the game can still surprise us.
And for history, it’s now a bold new entry: the only team since 1971 to take their first lead with under one second left in a Finals game.
Basketball doesn’t get more poetic than that.
