I watched 62,149 people fill Hard Rock Stadium—not just fans, but a cathedral of quiet passion. This wasn’t about attendance numbers; it was about silence before the whistle, the weight of collective longing. Each seat held a story: Bayern’s roar, Real’s grit, the ghost of a rivalry that outlived stats. I don’t see basketball as sport—I see emotional architecture. This game wasn’t played on grass. It was carved in concrete and memory.