The dog days of November.

After leaving Seventh Avenue on a rainy night and passing through a security checkpoint manned by agents with metal detectors, I came to a ticket window at Madison Square Garden where I said, "What's the cheapest ticket?"

"Forty-five" said the man behind the glass.

"Dollars?" I said.

He gave me a Soprano look.

I gave him the money.

For $44.50, I bought the cheapest seat available at a Knicks-Pistons game. Section 347, Row A, Seat 10 is seven rows from the arena's ceiling with a sight line that passes through a backboard.

There is no reason to attend an NBA game in November. I went as a fan. No press table at courtside, no press access, no crib notes from the teams' publicists. Bought a ticket, paid $6.75 for a hot dog and Coke, took a series of escalators and from an eagle's perch looked down on a scene familiar and yet mystifying.