Thompson: Love and support got Mike Breen, voice of NBA Finals, through the fire

Mike Breen and his wife, Roseanne, held each other as they took in a most devastating sight. They’d had countless phone calls and a cross-country flight to digest the news of their house burning down. They’d already felt the relief of knowing all lives were spared and knowing they have the means to rebuild.

Still, seeing it hits differently. The gable roof completely gone. The interior reduced to char. The yellow siding and white trim darkened by soot. The two-car garage hollowed out, both white doors reduced to rubble. Where there was once so much value suddenly there was so much void. The scorched facade facing the street was all that remained of their home.

Smoke was still rising when Breen, 61, arrived. They couldn’t go in yet. The house was still cordoned off as the fire smoldered tauntingly beneath the debris. The Hall of Fame broadcaster, the iconic play-by-play man for the Knicks and the NBA Finals, the voice of the biggest stage, didn’t have words for what he witnessed.

“It’s hard to process,” Breen said. “because you’re a little bit in a state of shock as you look at it and there’s nothing left. There’s just — it’s all gone.”

Fire is one of nature’s destructive forces. It can be consuming — relentless and mighty enough to become a living, breathing force. But for Breen, something even more powerful emerged in its wake. Because some elements are flame resistant.

That’s why this isn’t a tale about loss, but instead about gain. The last thing Breen wants is pity.

He’s an NBA icon in his own right. The Curt Gowdy Award winner rubs shoulders with legends. He’s featured on the soundtrack for a generation of basketball brilliance.

Jamal Murray recently exemplified Breen’s place in NBA culture. The Nuggets star guard hit a big 3-pointer against the Lakers, mouthed “Bang!” and pointed to Breen.

He’s nearing his 100th NBA Finals game called, which is far and away the most of any broadcaster. He’s finely compensated for his talent, too, with perks that include a front-row seat to hoop history, a connection with some all-time greats and respect among his peers.

That’s why he is quite emphatic about belonging way, way in the back of the line of poor unfortunate souls.

“I just kept thinking about people that lose their home and everything,” Breen said, “and they have nowhere to go and perhaps don’t even have insurance. We have great insurance and it’s taking care of us. Some people wind up staying in a hotel for a year or whatever.”

Undoubtedly, coming home to a pile of ashes is painful no matter one’s tax bracket. Breen and his family lost their primary house and the home existing within. They lost the place of comfort and familiarity they built. They lost invaluable photos and sentimental trinkets. Breen lost some priceless sports memorabilia, part of a collection he built in his three decades broadcasting NBA games.

But the fire that ruined his home also refined his perspective. Breen — set to work his record 18th NBA Finals as Denver faces Miami — is telling his story because of what survived the fire.

The gripping reminder of the value of life, underscored by his family being spared. His wife was by his side, his youngest child and dog safely elsewhere.

The renewed appreciation for this journey he’s on and the experiences he’s enjoyed. Because memory is a gift greater than memorabilia, and mementos don’t compare to actual moments.

The soul-warming, heart-filling support he’s received over the last eight months. Love is a great replenisher.

Now when Breen gets choked up, when the emotions bring him to tears, it’s not so much from sorrow over what the fire destroyed. But from gratitude over what it couldn’t.

Four days after the fire, Breen attended an ESPN preseason seminar. He wanted to go despite his trauma because the season neared. The selflessness bequeathed to him by his parents would not allow him to make himself the center of attention. He was going to suffer in silence. But the story broke in a local Long Island newspaper while he was at the seminar. His phone started buzzing.

Overwhelmed, he went to his hotel room after the seminar. He’d received more than 500 text messages. From family and friends. But also from co-workers and colleagues, acquaintances from this charmed life of his.

“It’s my life story,” Breen said, “in terms of every step of the way there’s somebody there with kindness or somebody that cares or somebody there who helped. My whole life I’ve been blessed. Growing up with a mother and father and brothers, with my own family with my wife and my kids. My career. I’ve been blessed with all these things.

“This sounds kind of corny but something bad really happened. But it became this blessing because we received all this love and kindness from so many people. And it’s hard to express how it feels to know that people really care about you and care about your family.”

Breen and his wife woke up at 4:30 a.m. on Sunday, Sept. 25. They had a 7 a.m. flight back home after a short vacation to Napa. One last excursion before the new season began. He’d turned his ringer off to ensure he got some sleep before their early drive from wine country to the San Francisco International Airport. He awakened to dozens of text messages and voicemails, most from family members. Breen called his son, Matt, who told him there was a fire at the house.

This is where the gratitude begins: Matt was supposed to be in the house.

The Breens hadn’t lived there long. They moved to the gated community in Manhasset, N.Y., to downsize homes. Two of their three children, Michael and Nicole, had flown the nest already. Their youngest, Matt, was on his way out. They were getting some floors redone, corresponding with their trip to Napa. The work needed some time to dry and settle. What Breen didn’t want was their golden retriever scurrying across the new floors. So he requested Matt take the dog and stay at their beach house during their Napa trip.

“He fought me over it for a week,” Breen said of his son. “He’s like, ‘Dad, I don’t want to go out there. It’s too long to commute to work. I’ve got all my stuff here. I’ll keep her off the floor.’ So we argue about it for a week.”

Nicole, who lives in Manhattan, settled the matter when she agreed to dog sit. But something came up and she couldn’t. Breen was forced to insist Matt take one for the team. And the youngest acquiesced, relocating for a few days to the beach house an hour and a half away, appeasing his old man.

Breen pulling the dad card saved both his son and their dog.

Michael Uttaro, the chief fire marshall of Nassau County, told TMZ Sports the fire began in the garage and was caused by “a careless disposal of staining material.”

“When all those materials are stored in a pile,” Uttaro told TMZ, “they can combust, causing a rapid fire.”

Breen said he was told the house was engulfed in 10 minutes. Matt’s room was in the basement near the back with one way out. Breen said it’s hard to imagine a scenario where his son would’ve made it out in such a fast-moving blaze.

But while he knew his son was safe, few knew that he was.

The Manhasset-Lakeville Fire Department arrived on the scene at 4:03 a.m. It would be more than three hours before Breen would learn of the fire. Several of the voicemails to which he awakened were from family members desperate to learn of his whereabouts. Nobody knew at the time Breen’s family was not in the house.

“There’s a good chance I’m going to get a little emotional on this,” Breen said, his renowned baritone starting to crack. “So I apologize. A couple of my brothers, the voicemails they left, there was such desperation. Like one of my brothers was saying, like, ‘Please call me. Please call me. Let me know where you are.’ Because they thought I was in the house. You can hear it in their voice. That’s something you just don’t forget.”

It was a visceral display of how much Breen means to people. It troubled him to be the source of such anguish. But the love he heard wasn’t lost on him. He and his family have been shrouded in it ever since.

It’s a window into Breen’s value system, shaped by his parents. John and Mary raised him on the imperatives of family, faith, kindness and community. It’s how he moves and what moves him.

Breen (right), here with broadcast partners Mark Jackson and Jeff Van Gundy, will be calling his 18th NBA Finals. (Kirby Lee / USA Today)

John, a steamfitter in his day who died in 2011 after a bout with Parkinson’s, was known and loved by seemingly everyone. He always had a kind word for people. Mary, a stay-at-home mom, was their universe, the stabilizing force in their lives. She still lives in the house Breen grew up in Yonkers. She grew up there, too, moving out for a spell before moving back after her father died.

“Two of the most selfless people in the world,” Breen said of his parents.

The core values they instilled anchor him in times of adversity. This ordeal has been difficult. Early on, a wave of sadness and frustration would hit him, between the chaos of replacing and restoring. Building a life, a home, takes years. They’ve been piecing it back together for months. Necessities as minor as buying new clothes, to matters as tedious as documenting losses, to tasks as significant as finding a new place to live.

Imagine the memorabilia he’s collected over the years. One of his favorite pieces was a Kobe Bryant jersey. Remember in 2014 when the NBA allowed nicknames on jerseys? ESPN made one for Breen that read “The Gray Mamba” on the back. He rarely asks for autographs but this prompted an exception.

Kobe signed his jersey: From one Mamba to another.

It was gone.

Periodically, since the fire, they’d get reminders of something else lost. They’d discover some simple treasure was no longer there. Each time, a modicum of the pain from their loss returns.

“Every day for the first three months,” Breen said, “you’d go to get something or you’d need something. Most of the stuff, you think, ‘I’ll just get another one.’ But every now and then, it’d be something you really miss and can’t replace.”

The prevalence of smartphone photography allowed them to recover many photos of their children, one of the more heartbreaking losses. They haven’t replaced the piano yet. One of Breen’s favorite songs to play was “The Hands of Time,” the theme music to the movie “Brian’s Song.” But his collection of sheet music was lost with the piano. It’s difficult to find sheet music these days and he isn’t good enough to play without it. Roseanne scoured the internet to find as much as she could and printed them out so he could play again.

Mrs. Breen had another epic salvage up her sleeve. It was discovered among the ashes. She shipped it off to be cleaned and refurbished, then surprised him with his restored gem: The Gray Mamba jersey.

Little things hold them up in these times. Breen is wired to focus on what’s most important when faced with struggle. He doubles down on his core values, digs in to remain grounded in his perspective. As a result, he’s especially sensitive to gestures and affections.

He finds extra strength in his wife’s heart and enduring work ethic to rebuild their lives. He is especially moved by his youngest son’s relentless positivity. It tugs Breen’s heartstrings when he remembers Matt, too, lost everything he had. Still, he’s been so upbeat, so high-spirited, so helpful.

One of the valuables Breen misses was his collection of letters. He’s a sucker for a letter. He’s old school that way. He lost years’ worth of letters in the fire. But the sentiments were replaced whenever he entered a new arena. Whenever he received one of the hundreds of calls and texts from people asking how they could help. He didn’t know how to answer but found comfort in the very question.

When he received those 500 text messages, he was up late into the night answering each one. Some of them were so heartfelt, he’d break down in tears while responding.

People like John Hareas, NBA vice president of editorial and daily content, who have been ride-or-die with Breen every step of the way. Teams sent gear to hold him over until he restocked his collection of patterned suits. The PR directors showered him with affection when he worked their games. Stephen Curry gifted Breen custom shoes to commemorate his first-ever double “Bang!”

He’s built a career calling moments where players came up clutch for their teams. But what stands out about this whole ordeal is how people have been clutch for him.

The emotion wells up again. Breen’s voice trembles.

“When I go into the arenas,” he said, “every arena across the country and you see all these friends. You realize how important they were. … Every single one of them meant something because it strengthens you. At a time where you kind of were wobbling a little bit after the news and what happened, all of these people that were there to rally and support around us, it strengthened us and it got us through without a problem.

“I fell head over heels in love with mankind because of people’s spirit. It’s amazing what they can do to raise yours.”

(Photo of Mike Breen: John W. McDonough / Getty Images)

Thompson: Love and support got Mike Breen, voice of NBA Finals, through the fire

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