I Battled the Universe During the WNBA Championship

I arrived at Barclays Center at exactly 7:30, about 35 minutes before tip-off, and trying to figure out if I was having more bad moments or good moments—the sum total of which would obviously impact the Liberty's chances of winning.

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I Battled the Universe During the WNBA Championship

At 6:20 p.m. on Sunday night, I sat on my bed in Manhattan clutching my cell phone, my finger hovering above a “confirm purchase” button, willing the universe to give me a sign as to whether or not I should go through with this. But the lights didn’t flicker and my phone didn’t randomly turn off, so I hit “confirm.” But I mistyped my credit card information—twice. The purchase didn’t go through. This, I told myself, had to be the sign. The sign from the universe telling me not to spend my money going to the WNBA final between the New York Liberty and the Minnesota Lynx because the Liberty would lose and I would be bummed.

So I thanked the universe for its heads up, and got dressed to go watch the game at a bar. The bar is good, the bar will be better, I told myself, the bar will be best if they lose. 

I had spent the entire day refreshing StubHub, SeatGeek, VividSeats, GameStop, CheapTicket, and TickPick in the hope that prices would drop, as well as refreshing my work e-mail in case anyone with an extra box suite seat decided to offer it to Jezebel. (If that’s you, I’m already planning for next season!) So as I prepared to leave my apartment, I decided to do one more check—why stop scouring for tickets now?

The tickets had dropped $3…which felt like a sign. I Googled “promo codes” for the site I was using and found one that worked and gave me $20 off. Another sign! I quadruple-checked my credit card info this time, held my breath, and hit “confirm purchase” one final time. And that is how I came to attend my first-ever WNBA game. Little did I know, but this would be my most relaxing moment of the entire night.

I’ve been a basketball fan my whole life, but admittedly only started following the WNBA in the last couple of years. I was so sad when the Liberty got knocked out by the Las Vegas Aces by one point in Game 4 in the Finals last year—and was then so excited when the Liberty knocked out the Aces by 14 points in Game 4 of the semifinals this year.

The Liberty and the Lynx entered the postseason as the No. 1 and No. 2 seed, respectively, so this championship series was always going to be a frustrating, nail-biting matchup. I watched the Lynx win by two in overtime from behind my fingers during Game 1, then cursed myself for not getting a ticket to watch the Liberty win by 14 at Barclays Center during Game 2. I watched Game 3 at a bar with friends—possibly one of the most exciting games I’ve ever seen—and screamed from my couch while watching the Liberty lose during Game 4, despite playing beautifully. Ratings and attendance were already record-breaking, which partially informed my decision to get tickets. Would this be my last opportunity to see a WNBA Finals game for under $1,000?

I arrived at Barclays Center at exactly 7:30, about 35 minutes before tip-off, still buzzing off my adrenaline-packed indecisiveness, and trying to figure out if I was having more bad moments or good moments—the sum total of which would obviously impact the Liberty’s chances of winning. Subway arrives one minute after I get to the platform? Good sign. Phone only at 40 percent? Bad sign. Easy-enough security line? Good sign! The DJ outside the Barclays Center who started playing the Black Eyed Peas’ “I Got a Feeling”? Bad sign. (I know it may seem like I’ve never been to a sporting event in my life, but this is unfortunately the process my brain goes through any time I watch a game of consequence.)

But once I was in, I immediately spotted my friend (great sign), we quickly grabbed beers (great sign), and easily found our seats (which admittedly isn’t hard to do, but I took it as a great sign regardless). At this point in the night, it felt like there were too many good signs. I considered “accidentally” spilling my beer all over myself to hopefully help balance out the universe, but ultimately decided against it, praying I wouldn’t regret it later.

And inside the arena, there were a bajillion good signs! Which is bad! The stands were packed; the energy was HUGE; everyone was excited; everyone was eager; everyone was tense; Ellie the Elephant—the Liberty’s phenomenal mascot who’s been having a very viral year—was breakdancing; and we all had light-up bracelets like we were at the Eras Tour. I was giddy and feeling lucky that this was my first WNBA game (but I quickly shut down those thoughts at the risk of jinxing us all).

The game began and it was…not good. This was a sloppy, ridiculous, “wtf was that” game of basketball. It was incredibly low-scoring, which I guess means that both defenses played well, but both offenses did not. The Liberty kept showing us how much they loved passing the ball but seemingly hated to take shots. There was a lot of fouling, a lot of falling, and a lot of easy layups missed. Everyone on both the Liberty and the Lynx also missed almost all their three-point shots—during Game 4, there were 46 three-point attempts between both teams and 19 successful three-point shots, but during Game 5, there were only four three-point shots out of 34 attempts. It was bad! For both teams! But this meant I did not know where I stood in my own superstitious battle with the universe.

At halftime, the score was 34-27—a thoroughly underwhelming score, and not fun if you’re a Liberty fan. So I decided to focus all my emotions and efforts on Ellie the Elephant and her immaculate halftime dance (alongside Fat Joe, who was the halftime performance, for some reason). “Ellie’s the best!” I said to myself. “She’s so fun, it doesn’t matter if we win or lose, because we’ll always have Ellie,” I kept thinking, imagining the universe would hear this and reward my forced apathy.

The third quarter was not much better, until finally the Liberty caught up to the Lynx, tied them, and then led by three at the end going into the fourth quarter. The entire arena was on their feet. I ripped out chunks of my hair and shrieked so loud that I’m still shocked my vocal cords didn’t decide to strangle me in my sleep. The two elderly women to the right of us were steadily screaming “defense,” the guys behind us were instructing the Liberty that they have to “shoot the ball,” the pre-teens in front of us were clapping, and the French guys to the left of us were…yelling stuff in French. I didn’t know where the universe’s balance was, or where mine needed to be. Then, with the Liberty down by two, Breanna Stewart got two free throws with 38 seconds left. Everyone stopped breathing. I started recording in hopes of capturing a victorious moment.

On Wednesday night, I watched Game 3 between the Liberty and the Lynx at Berry Park in Williamsburg. At one point during the second quarter, while the Liberty was down by 13, I was standing at the bar, waiting for my beer, when three people sitting at a table behind me rapidly stood up. “We decided they’re losing because we’re sitting in these seats,” one of the women said to me. “So we’re moving, you can take the table!” Later that night, Sabrina Ionescu would take a 28-foot three-point jump shot with one second left, avoiding overtime and winning Liberty the game 80-77. It was glorious. And I knew it was 92% thanks to those people who bravely gave up their table to go stand in another part of the bar.

That is what I thought of after I recorded Breanna Stewart missing both free throws. I knew where the balance was.

When Stewart got two more free throws 33 seconds later, my phone was in my pocket. In my periphery, I noticed my friend taking out her phone. Unlike me, she hadn’t recorded those missed free throws. I had less than one second to decide whether this meant we were canceling each other out and Stewart would miss again, or if this meant I needed to take my phone out in order to ensure the balance leaned in Liberty’s favor. It was one of the worst seconds of my life. I kept my phone in my pocket.

Stewart, blessedly, made both free throws—surely thanks to my split-second decision. The ref’s call was controversial, and will probably be discussed for years, but what the universe says goes.

Stewart’s two points tied up the game, sending it to overtime. But Leonie Fiebich made a three-point shot in the first 10 seconds, ensuring the remaining four minutes and 50 seconds weren’t as close as they might have been. Phew. But just in case, I didn’t take my phone out again until after the Liberty officially won their first WNBA championship, 67-62.

 
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