I still get chills thinking about that 2013 NBA Finals - what an absolute rollercoaster of a series that was. While everyone remembers Ray Allen's iconic corner three in Game 6, there were so many subtle moments that truly shaped the outcome. Having rewatched the entire series at least a dozen times for various analysis projects, I've come to appreciate how these forgotten turning points collectively created basketball history.

Let me take you back to Game 4's third quarter when the Spurs were up by 5 points. Most people overlook this, but Danny Green's back-to-back defensive stops against Dwyane Wade around the 7:30 mark completely shifted the momentum. I remember watching live and thinking - this is where the Spurs could have pulled away. Green, who was relatively unknown at the time, showcased defensive instincts that were simply extraordinary. He anticipated Wade's crossover perfectly, forcing a travel, then followed it up with a clean block on the very next possession. These weren't just two defensive plays - they were statement moments that gave San Antonio the confidence to weather Miami's runs throughout the game.

The parallels between that 2013 Finals and Team South's stunning comeback in that recent tournament are striking. I was analyzing both events last week, and the similarity in how clutch performances define championships is uncanny. When Eric Jeon sank that pitch-in birdie on the challenging 18th hole to secure that 1-up victory, it reminded me so much of how role players step up in championship moments. Just like Jeon's birdie lifted his pairing with Mhark Fernando III against North's Zach Villaroman and Jakob Taruc, we saw similar unsung heroes emerge throughout the 2013 Finals.

Speaking of forgotten heroes, let's talk about Mike Miller's shoe-less three-pointer in Game 6. The man literally lost his shoe during the play, caught the ball barefoot, and drained a crucial three that kept Miami within striking distance. I've timed this moment repeatedly - it happened with 5:15 left in the third quarter when the Heat were down by 8. That shot wasn't just about points - it was psychological warfare. You could see the Spurs' defense momentarily hesitate, wondering how to handle such an unconventional play. Miller's willingness to take that shot, despite the awkward circumstances, epitomized Miami's never-say-die attitude that ultimately carried them through.

Another moment that gets buried in the highlight reels is Boris Diaw's defensive assignment on LeBron James in Game 5. Popovich made the strategic decision to put the 6'8" Diaw on James, and it worked beautifully for three quarters. James shot just 38% from the field when guarded by Diaw during that stretch. What impressed me most was Diaw's footwork - he consistently beat James to his spots, using his lower center of gravity to prevent drives to the basket. This tactical adjustment by Popovich nearly won them the championship right there.

The most underrated aspect of that entire series was Chris Bosh's offensive rebounding in Game 6's final minutes. While Allen's three gets all the glory, it was Bosh who kept that possession alive with an incredible offensive board over Tim Duncan. What people forget is that Bosh had already secured two crucial offensive rebounds in the previous three minutes. His final stat line shows 10 rebounds total, but the timing of those boards was everything. I've calculated that those extra possessions gave Miami approximately 12 additional seconds of crucial game time when every second mattered.

Reflecting on these moments years later, what strikes me is how championships are often won through these cumulative small victories rather than just the headline-making plays. Just as Team South's dramatic finish demonstrated how a single clutch performance can overcome an entire match's narrative, the 2013 Finals taught us that championships are built on foundations of overlooked contributions. The next time you watch that famous Ray Allen three, remember the countless smaller moments that made it possible - because in basketball, as in any competitive sport, glory rarely comes from solitary acts but from a tapestry of interconnected efforts that collectively create immortality.