Editor's note: Many are missing sports, and the distraction and entertainment they bring, during the coronavirus crisis, and we're no exception. Today, Monte Poole looks back at the power of the crowd at Oracle Arena.

We’re only one week removed from having NBA basketball in the Bay Area, but it feels like a month. It felt longer after what I witnessed on TV a couple nights ago.

Warriors vs. Cavaliers.

Game 5 of the 2017 NBA Finals.

Oracle Arena.

I miss those Warriors-Cavs clashes. Steph Curry vs. Kyrie Irving. Kevin Durant vs. LeBron James. Draymond Green and Tristan Thompson, each willing to leave bruises on the other. Steve Kerr constantly rotating different defenders on LeBron, Tyronn Lue countering by doing the same to Steph.

I miss the NBA Finals, where the air is thin yet somehow heavy. The Warriors made that strenuous excursion five consecutive seasons, the first four to meet LeBron and the Cavs. They went from rematch to trilogy and the unprecedented tetralogy.

What I miss most, though, is feeling electricity run through Oracle Arena with blowtorch intensity -- particularly during the playoffs and especially in The Finals.

Re-watching Game 5 brought it all back. The sights and sounds of Oracle beginning with a buzz of anticipation before transforming into a towering beast, snarling and snapping in protection of the home team was, truth told, the stuff that tingles the spine.

Oracle postseason noise was not ordinary postseason noise. There were the nouveau fans, thrilled to ride the wave, grasping the magnitude of the moment, determined to be as loud for as long as possible. And there were the longtime fans, who had suffered through so many blundering seasons, summoning yet another cathartic roar. The result was a harmonious blend of joy and fulfillment that I frankly doubt can be outdone by any arena in the NBA.

Game 5 was sweet redemption for the 2016 Finals, which came after the Warriors posted the best regular season in NBA history but was snatched away under a cloud of controversy and the resilience of LeBron and Kyrie.

This was an even sweeter smiting of the many fans and observers and, yes, retired NBA players, who had disparaged Durant and the Warriors for daring to unite. For becoming the league’s Super Villains.

This was 98 percent of the Oracle Arena crowd beating its collective chest and telling everyone outside the Dub Nation bubble to go mock themselves.

KD scored 39 points, on 20 field-goal attempts, winning the game within the game between he and LeBron. KD then picked up the Bill Russell award trophy that goes to the MVP of The Finals, turned toward the crowd and gave it props for being such a potent, inspirational force.

Oracle roared.

Curry scored 34 points, on 20 shots, and recorded 10 assists, to settle a score with Irving, who one year earlier drained the incredible 3-pointer from the right wing, over Steph’s outstretched arm, that shoved the Warriors into the offseason.

Oracle roared.

And this was 2017, when Chase Center barely was a hole in the ground. When there would be two more seasons at Oracle.

The Warriors hoped for a smooth transition last fall, when they moved into Chase Center. Rick Welts, the team’s earnest COO, recognized the mystique of the old arena and, along with the contractors and engineers assembling the new building, sought to recreate as much of the Oracle experience as possible.

They did a fabulous job with the acoustics. Even in a season bound for nowhere, it’s evident that the sound bounces off the walls and ricochets off the ceiling. It can get pretty loud. Maybe someday, perhaps next season, with the Warriors lined up for the playoffs, Chase will be put to the real test.

But the standard is stratospheric. Oracle was a rare place. A 52-year-old house, a relic by NBA standards, with some of the mechanical challenges that naturally develop over so many years of use and abuse, but still stubbornly committed to defending the Warriors.

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Oracle was tremendous in 2007, figuratively blood-doping the “We Believe” Warriors into the postseason and to a stunning first-round upset. But Game 5 of the 2017 Finals represented a homecourt at its peak. A crowd sensing a championship, a team determined to deliver it and an aging arena thundering into its final lap.

Watching it once more, 33 months later, was a reminder of how unique sports is in its ability to bring us together and leave us with memories that decades later still feel warm and wonderful.