Dear Miami Heat: An open letter regarding the 2016-17 season

The Miami Heat’s 2016-17 season is officially over, and there is plenty to say. Read on for my open letter, to the team.

Dear 2016-17 Miami Heat,

It’s been more than 24 hours since your season finale win over the Washington Wizards, and it’s finally sinking in: you won’t be a part of this year’s playoffs. Not because you don’t deserve it. Or because you didn’t perform well enough. Simply on a technicality, that in a league like the NBA, doesn’t really even make sense. But that’s for another time, for another place.

You see, I knew Wednesday night that there would be no postseason run for you. Even before you closed out your game against the Wizards. But it didn’t quite seem real. I couldn’t fully wrap my head around the fact that I wouldn’t see you in action again until next fall. With no guarantee that once you did return, it would be with the same group of guys.

I feel it now though; the emptiness. And suspect it will stick around for some time.

However, I refuse to let it overshadow the other emotions I have towards and for you. Especially the overwhelming sense of pride.

Because this year was anything but a walk in the park. But you survived it. More than that, you conquered it. On so many levels.

Going into training camp, there was already tension in the air. You had lost two key members of your team, with bridges burning close behind. There were so many new faces to grow accustomed to, too. Chemistry to be developed. Trust to be built.

Which is hard enough to do when everything else is going right, nevermind when you also have an abundance of injuries to take care of.

But you kept on, keeping on.

Just as I continued to see past the number of losses. After all, that’s all they were. Numbers. Void of telling the entire story. Missing the understanding of what Miami Heat Basketball is all about. As your coach, one of the greatest in the league, explained: each loss wasn’t a failure. It was a lesson learned. It was one more step towards improvement.

And as he kept preaching that to all of you, to the media, to the fans… so did I. To anyone who would listen.

A small group, it turns out. Because I guess when you’re 11-30, only the real stick around.

But I digress.

There you were, 11-30. Everything seemingly pointing to a lost season.

And just like that, you embarked on a historic turnaround. Four wins became seven. Seven became ten. Ten became 13 (Okaro). Bounce Back may as well have become your theme song. For all I know it did, Goran Dragic slipping the phrase in whenever he got a chance.

What a winning streak it was. Complete with high-flying dunks. Game-winning three-pointers. Team ball in every sense of the word. It was truly one for the ages. Something I’ll never forget, for as long as I live.

And as you battled it out for a spot in the playoffs, it truly became clear just how great of a transformation you all had made; even more impressive than James Johnson’s own.

Now you may not have achieved your ultimate goal. But that doesn’t change a thing.

It doesn’t take away never giving up, even when all odds were against you. Or going from 11-30 to 30-11.

This year was a success. In every sense of the word.

So thank you.

For surpassing my already high expectations. For exemplifying the true meaning of culture. For managing to entertain while still working hard.

Thank you Dragic for gracing South Beach with your picturesque three-stroke, your knack for drawing fouls, your shoulder dip… you’re a sharp-shooter, a playmaker, a force to be reckoned with. My Dragon.

Thank you Hassan Whiteside for developing your game even further. I’m in awe every time you catch a block midair with one hand, you dunk so hard the backboard shakes, you shoot a jumper. You’ve preached that you’re different for some time now, and you’re absolutely right. One-of-a-kind barely scratches the surface with you. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Thank you James and Tyler Johnson, The Brothers Johnson, for undoubtedly forging the best brotherhood in all of Miami. Better than Dwyane Wade and Shaquille O’Neal, the Big Three, 7/11. Your bond is the definition of what this organization stands for. And every time you two connect on a play, a new level of greatness is attained. On and off the court.

Josh Richardson, thank you for never letting up. Your sophomore season may have fallen short of what you desired, but you didn’t for a minute stop giving the team everything you had. Even when your wrist was taped up. Even when your legs weren’t fully under you yet. You understood what it meant to grind out, and that’s exactly what you did.

And perhaps most of all, thank you to Erik Spoelstra. My Coach of the Year, no matter what the votes say. For believing in these guys, sometimes more than they believed in themselves. For refusing to throw in the towel, even though it would have been so easy to. For letting Dion Waiters shoot his shot. Having faith in Rodney McGruder against just about every elite player in the league. Growing Willie Reed into a worthy backup big man. No one else could have done it like you. And more importantly, as genuinely. You’ve given your heart and soul to this group, really and truly, through and through.

Here’s to never letting go of the rope. Not even for a single second.

I can’t wait to see what comes next. With all the faith in the world that Pat Riley will continue to do what he does best: succeed.

Entirely yours,

Allana

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