Dirk Nowitzki's half-bank, out-and-in shot to beat the Knicks on Monday night was one of the oddest bounces I've ever seen. It may have been the oddest in recent NBA history (Jordan's in-and-out against the Trail Blazers in the '92 NBA finals was also memorable as was Allan Houston's "The Shot" to beat the Heat in 2006). Likely, there were equally ethereal ball-rim interactions back when lesser technology allowed players to shatter backboards on slam dunks, but of course there's no easy way to prove that given the lack of rim-record keeping on sportsreference.com and other statistical sites. Thus, we go by sight and memory.

I saw Dirk's in person. From the best seats I'd ever sat in (or stood up from at that point in the game) by at least three of four sections and maybe three or four hundred feet, I saw the whole sequence: The Knicks failing, as usual, to get a respectable game-winning shot because they don't seem to realize how difficult it is to score when one man focuses 100 percent on defense (with four other players ready to help) and the other 100 percent on offense (with four other players standing there and watching). How about a pick-and-roll play at least? Isn't that supposed to be the most unstoppable play in basketball? Why is it never used at the end of games, when baskets are the hardest to net?

My seat, courtesy of a friend's invite, was so good I was parallel to the league's president of basketball operations, Rod Thorn (who unknowingly knocked over a full bottle of Pepsi in the row ahead of him), and two lines back of celebrity row, which sat Russell Wilson, the blonde girl from "The Big Bang Theory," and two members of Mumford and Sons (who seemed less like basketball fans and more like two guys who understood the value and experience of courtside tickets). Like Bill Simmons once remarked about his near-courtside LA Clippers seats, your perception of players changes when you observe them from the same distance as if it was a CYO game. Basically, it was like watching athletic giants, or, as they are now known, Avatars.

After decent defense by Carmelo (though he didn't really get his hands up, allowing Dirk's shot to find a straight path even if he misjudged its power), the ball hit low on the backboard, which, as former Knick Bill Bradley could tell you (in his practice sessions he wouldn't just make shots, but attempt to make them in specific places of the net) will take one of three pathways (1) directly in (2) hit the back rim and out or (3) hit the back rim, the front rim, and then out. Dirk's took the last trail, but instead of moving forward off the rim, it spun back and swished in. How often does a shot hit the rim and then swish in? You couldn't do it if you tried.

Only Dirk and his highly developed shot could have created that type of bounce. One thing you miss about his technique while watching it exclusively on TV is its high arc and his exaggerated follow-through. When you're sitting level with the court, you see for yourself the height at which his ball reaches (a height that would hit most CYO ceilings) before beginning its decent. When he or any shooter releases the ball and it hits the rim or net, the TV camera typically pans closer to the rim (and blocks his after-shot pose), while a live look keeps the shot and Dirk's snapped wrist in view. It would be cool if basketball measured rotation the way tennis has since Rafael Nadal began hitting wicked bounces to Roger Federer's backhand. Likely, Dirk's would be among the elite.

It's too bad he hit it because live overtime games are particularly rowdy (and slightly more economical). Gotta love Dirk, though. He didn't really celebrate or react much at all. He knew that bounce didn't make sense, even from a stroke as refined as his.