I understand the perceived insanity of sports fandom and how an outsider could think the retiring of a play-by-play NBA commentator is insignificant, and certainly not something that would bring a tear to your eye. But, if you will allow me to share some perspective from that insanity and broaden it into something more digestible, you might understand why I was in tears during halftime of a meaningless last game of the season that featured a roster of almost entirely G Leaguers.

Mike Gorman has been with me my whole life. Mike was there when we were bad and good, when we overachieved and when we did not meet the mark. He shared our laughter, cheers, and stunned silences.

Tuning into Mike and Tommy over the years was like watching a game with your pals. One, a rational, wise man full of basketball insight who told you what he saw. The other, a hilarious, biased fan boy who told you what he felt, doling out Tommy points and accusing the officials of poor eyesight and being on the take. Mike Gorman was a captivating constant. As you get older, you realize the things and people in life that mean the most are the ones you can count on consistently being there. Mike Gorman has been there my whole life, telling me what he saw. He "got it" no notes.