Sporting folklore written on the buzzer

Jared Smith Photo/File

It really ain't over until it's over.

By now, hopefully you have all seen Cedric Jackson's amazing three pointer from well over midcourt to give his NZ Breakers a stunning double overtime victory with just a heartbeat left on the clock against the Perth Wildcats last Sunday.

Many said the return of the 28-year-old American veteran to the Breakers this season would signal a reclamation of the form which took the franchise to the NBL championship 3-peat, following the disappointments of last summer.

If there was ever evidence of just how correct that proved, I present to you Exhibit A in front of a stunned 13,000-strong Perth crowd, who only one blink of the eyelids beforehand knew their team was going to win.

Incredibly, it was not the first time "Action Jackson" has taken the figurative stroll across a lake.

He is most remembered back in his homeland at Cleveland State University, when he made a game-winning full court shot to beat Syracuse University 72-69 in December 2008.

The senior guard, Jackson took an inbound pass with 2.2 seconds left, and just turned with both hands and threw a 60-foot shot that hit nothing but net.

"It was a prayer. It's not an everyday shot," he shrugged afterwards.

Truly, there is nothing like the miracle play. The "Hail Mary".

Every coach, until he's blue in the face, can tell his team to play right down to the final whistle, because theoretically there are always enough milliseconds to secure points.

But truly, the harsh reality of "Father Time" is that he plays the best defence in any sports league.

Nonetheless, miracles happen, and here is just a collection of some of my favourite on-the-buzzer moments from sporting folklore.

Malakai Fekitoa and Colin Slade, All Blacks v Australia, October 2014.

The only reason this cannot be ranked higher on all-time lists is because, despite all evidence to the contrary, everyone watching firmly believed it could happen.

After the stunning jailbreak against Ireland in Dublin the previous year, rugby pundits have simply come to shrug and concede this All Black team can always find the way to win, even when common sense screams they have already lost.

Down 28-22 with time all but up against an Australian team who had finally delivered their most committed effort for departing coach Ewen McKenzie, Richie McCaw's boys played purely from the coaching manual - drive, retain, recycle, and drive again.

It was a tsunami against a dam of geological instability and, soon enough, Fekitoa found the crack and forced his way through the last defender, leaving it for Slade, merely our "fourth-choice" first-five, to casually plonk the conversion inside the right-hand upright.

The gutted Australian press held back enough to label it as an "implausible" victory, because by now, this All Black team has rewritten the book on what should be construed as "impossible".

Lance Klusener, South Africa v New Zealand, March 1999.

One wonders if Dion Nash still has nightmares about it.

Lining up to deliver the final ball of the rain effected 40-over one-dayer in Napier, Nash had seen his fellow scourgers Nathan Astle, Gavin Larsen and Daniel Vettori drag the Black Caps back into the game through the classic style of bending the back at the popping crease and thwarting the Proteas' scoring shots at every turn.

Trouble was, Nash had seen it but had not delivered the same himself, while at the other end, sitting on 29 from 18 balls as he batted with the tail, Lance Klusener was poised.

Just needing to somehow defend the four remaining runs, Nash was struck by the paceman's curse - a cruel affliction which turns unplayable yorkers into juicy low full-tossers - and Klusener's baseball-style slog was still climbing when it cleared the boundary ropes.

He became just the second batsman in the game's history to win an ODI with a six off the last ball.

Today, the pinch-hitter at the end of an innings slogging the leather to all points of the compass has almost become pass.

But back then, Klusener proved what was possible with a good piece of willow and a clear mind.

Mark Coyne, Queensland v New South Wales, May 1994.

Australian television commentator Ray Warren said it best - "That's not a try - that's a miracle".

Down 12-4 with five minutes left and then trailing 12-10 with a metre to travel for every one of the 60 seconds remaining in State of Origin's game 1, the Queenslanders uncorked an inextricable movement which spread to each sideline and back again at the Sydney Football Stadium.

It was a heart-stopping exhibition of basketball-styled loop passes, offloads in hard tackles and deft hands securing passes taken at turbo speed.

Nine men handled before Coyne dove through the final two defenders to plant the ball in the corner.

Commentating on the New Zealand broadcast, super coach Graham Lowe summed up the collective bewildered shock of the New South Welshmen after fulltime.

"They're trying to think back to two minutes ago. Because two minutes ago, they'd won it."

Roderick Dunn, John Tyler v Plano East, November 1994.

If you think the league commentators got excited, they have nothing on the men in the booth for this famous American high school football game on a wild afternoon in Texas.

What is most famous about the 97-yard run from the kickoff with 24 seconds remaining for John Tyler to upend Plano East, is that it was actually a miracle which denied another miracle.

Before the dash, play-by-play announcers Eddy Clinton and Denny Garver, accompanied by guest Mike Zoffuto, had evolved from sports analysts into southern Baptist preachers with folksy shouts of "Good Gosh Almighty", as somehow Plano East came back from 41-17 down with three minutes left to score four touchdowns on every possession and lead 44-41.

Justin Marshall had nothing on these guys.

"The greatest comeback of all time," screamed one, and "I done wet my breeches", cried another.

It remained only for Plano to kick it off and make the final tackle.

Instead, like traffic controllers watching an airplane crash, the commentary devolved into a continuous stream of "Oh, no" as Dunn got the ball ... and just kept going.

"I don't believe it. God bless those kids, I am sick, I want to throw up," the inconsolable Zoffuto wailed. You can still find the footage on YouTube, and, believe me, when you watch it you won't know whether to laugh or cry.