The Mag's Ursula Liang was at the Meadowlands on Thursday night for the Celtics' game of the century, a 112-111, last-second victory over the hapless Nets.

After half of the people in the half-empty arena head for their cars, it happens. A dynasty that's lost so much luster that the Nets' press notes dub it (unintentionally) in big bold letters, "CLETICS," finally has a legendary moment.

With 1.8 seconds to go in the fourth, Employee #8 hits trey #5 to pull Boston within one point and I'm out of my seat. The Nets fumble the inbound pass. Milt Palacio throws up a shot from 30 feet out, looking almost like the fan at halftime who launched one for a trip to Rio de Janeiro. Unlike the fan, Palacio sinks it, and the Celtics' no-name steals a win. All I can think is, Where's the replay? Did I just see what I think I saw? What the hell just happened? Of course there is no replay in Continental Airlines Arena. Just silence as the "Cletics" dogpile on the court, flattening Palacio.

But minutes later, in the corner of the hooting, hollering, joyous visitors' locker room, the game tape is on constant loop, reliving the miracle win. Randy Brown and Tony Battie do the play by play. "Look at coach! He don't want too much contact. He's just in and out!" Battie laughs at Pitino's approach to the dogpile. "Look at you!" Brown chuckles at Battie. " You were going to jump in at the end, but you put up the fist instead! Scared to get hurt?" "Look at Steph!" They both hoot at Marbury's stunned reaction, hands on his head in total disbelief. "How did that shot fall?! Palacio must have been in chapel all day." "He was in chapel all day today!" They laugh.

Meanwhile Palacio is still in shock. Twenty-two days after being signed to the Celts, the 22-year-old reached 21 points for the season (if they called the foul it could have been 22) with his only shot of the game: a heart-stopping three. "That was the biggest shot of my life. I didn't see it fall, but I seen Paul [Pierce] running at me, with his hands up and I figured that the ball went in. And then he knocked me down! If we was playing football that would have been a great tackle!" He tells me he already called his family to tell them to tape the SportsCenter highlights. I imagine him picking up the neglected payphone in the locker room to dial home.

The Nets, of course, are crushed. Only Stephen Jackson has the heart to congratulate his fellow bootstrap L-mate. "Nice shot, man. Call me," he tells Palacio.

And the player with the smallest pockets puts on his team issue grey sweats, shoulders his team-issue bag and leaves the arena in his white-on-white retro Jordan Vs feeling like MJ himself. Legendary -- at least for a day.

Ursula Liang is a writer/reporter for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail ursula.liang@espnmag.com.