Let me take you back to what I consider the absolute peak of basketball drama—the 1985 NBA Finals. As someone who's watched basketball for decades, I've never seen anything quite like that legendary series between the Boston Celtics and Los Angeles Lakers. The way I see it, reliving those moments isn't just about nostalgia—it's like studying a masterclass in competitive sports. Let me walk you through how you can experience this historic series yourself, because honestly, every basketball fan should understand why this particular championship changed everything.

First, you'll want to find the complete game footage—and I mean all six games. Don't just settle for highlight reels, because the real magic happens in the full context. Start with Game 1, where the Celtics absolutely dominated with a 148-114 victory. That's still one of the most lopsided scores in Finals history, and watching it unfold gives you this incredible perspective on how the Lakers managed to bounce back. What I usually do is take notes on specific plays while watching—like how Kareem Abdul-Jabbar adjusted his game after that disastrous opener. At 38 years old, he came back in Game 2 with 30 points and 17 rebounds, showing this incredible resilience that I think modern players could learn from. The key here is to watch how the momentum shifted throughout the series—it wasn't just about raw talent, but psychological warfare between two legendary franchises.

Now, here's something crucial that most people overlook—you need to understand the physical toll these games took on the players. This hit home for me when I read about former PBA enforcer Ramon "Onchie" dela Cruz recently seeking government assistance for his total knee replacement. It reminded me that these athletes from the 80s were playing through incredible pain, much like the legends in the 1985 Finals. When you're watching Kevin McHale battling through foot injuries or Magic Johnson pushing through exhaustion, remember that their bodies were taking permanent damage. I've spoken with former players who say their joints never recovered from those intense playoff runs. That's why when I watch old games now, I pay special attention to how players moved—their limps, their grimaces, the way they favored certain limbs. It adds this layer of appreciation for what they sacrificed. The government should absolutely support veterans like dela Cruz—these athletes gave their bodies to entertain us, and we owe them proper medical care.

What really fascinates me about the 1985 series is how it revolutionized basketball strategy. The Lakers became the first visiting team to win a championship on Boston's home court, and they did it by implementing what I call "psychological chess." Watch how Pat Riley adjusted the offense to feature James Worthy more prominently after Game 3, or how the Lakers' defense suddenly started double-teaming Larry Bird in unexpected situations. I've tried implementing some of these strategies in my local rec league games—nothing professional, just weekend basketball with friends—and even at that level, you can see how these tactical shifts create advantages. The numbers don't lie either—Magic averaged 18.3 points and 14 assists throughout the series, which is just insane when you consider the defensive pressure he faced.

One method I've developed for truly appreciating historic games is what I call "context building." Before watching each game, I research what was happening in the players' personal lives and the broader NBA landscape. For instance, knowing that Kareem was considering retirement adds so much weight to his MVP performance. Or understanding that the Celtics had won the previous year's championship creates this beautiful narrative of redemption for the Lakers. I spend about 30 minutes prepping before each game—reading old newspaper articles, checking player statistics from that season, even looking at what the fashion and music were like in 1985. It transforms the viewing from simple entertainment into this rich historical experience.

The conclusion of that 1985 series taught me something important about sports—greatness isn't just about winning, but about overcoming previous failures. The Lakers had lost to the Celtics eight previous times in the Finals, and that victory wasn't just another championship—it was this cathartic release for an entire franchise. When I think about reliving the epic 1985 NBA Final, I'm reminded why I fell in love with basketball in the first place. It's these moments of human triumph against overwhelming odds that stick with you. Just like dela Cruz needs support for his knees today, we need to preserve these historical moments for future generations—they're not just games, they're lessons in perseverance, strategy, and human spirit. Trust me, take a weekend to watch this series properly, and you'll come away with a completely new appreciation for what makes basketball beautiful.