That’s it for Tonight

What a night. Thursday’s gonna suck. I can’t believe how much a Spurs’ loss can push my heart into my throat. Clench every muscle in my body. I don’t remember the last time I had to deal with a Game 7 situation. Lakers-Celtics? The only other time I really cared. I’m pissed. The Spurs played ugly in the second two quarters of this game. And give it to Detroit. As practically every sports writer said, they play best when their backs are up against the wall. Unfortunately, the Spurs never pulled their heads out of their asses after Game 3. And now Hubie Brown is talking about how great Detroit has done. It’s very interesting to me how the Spurs, who those same sports writers say are a team with character, all of a sudden become this annoying group of folks who really don’t deserve to win. It’s Detroit now who needs the support of the people and deserves this championship. I’m annoyed. At some point in the fourth quarter tonight, the silver and black rolled over and handed practically every offensive and defensive rebound and possession to Detroit. So what’s the answer? A lot of stress for me on Thursday. A prayer, perhaps. But I don’t pray. For Manu to stop turning the ball over in the paint. For Tim Duncan to make a freethrow. For all of them to get a rebound. To start making baskets. It’s gonna be quite a night. Game 7. This is far from the sweep I had hoped it would be.

That Was Some Painful Shit

During the second half, I was on the phone with my friend Shane (the guy, not the girl, for those of you who know my girl history), and at some point, with the television muted, I had to ask him what 97 minus 71 was. I had just returned to ABC after having to leave. I couldn’t watch. Instead I opted for Dirty Dancing on USA, muted though it was. It took me back to 14. I saw that movie in West Hollywood with my junior varsity basketball team. Coach Vasquez, the one we all made fun of for being a lesbo (if I didn’t join in they’d all find out about me….shameful….shameful). She had to explain the abortion laws to us during the movie. I had no idea what was going on. I only knew that I really wanted Jennifer Grey the way Patrick Swayze wanted her. I had a BMT sandwich from Subway that day, and as a result, was benched for consuming red meat. Vasquez was a piece of work. During pre-season, we killed a basketball team, much like the Pistons did to the Spurs tonight. I got a lot of playing time and scored 17 points. The scorekeeper, Holly I think, came up to me after the game and gave me the news of my double-digit, game-high performance. Then Vasquez came up to me. She was sure to congratulate me for a game well played. I was finally able to show her what I was capable of. But instead she told me not to expect to get that kind of playing time. I was just in the game a lot because they were a poor team. That instilled me with so much confidence, let me tell you. I made varsity the next year. Bitch. I didn’t feel bad anymore for dragging her whistle through the mud-soaked bathroom. So I can never watch Dirty Dancing without thinking of her. But that’s ok. Jennifer Grey trumps bad coaches any day. Tonight’s game. When I found out what 97-71 was (math takes me a while; especially when double figures are involved), I just started laughing. It just got funny. Boston’s leprachaun flew to Detroit tonight and hung out on the Spurs’ rim. I would hate to be in the locker room tonight. No, actually I would love it. I’m sure lockers where punched. Depression. Embarrassment. They may as well have walked onto the court and pulled their shorts down. Because Detroit shut them the fuck down, playing a near flawless game, replete with offense and defense. And most importantly, the will to win. It’s all tied up. Can’t wait for Sunday. Really. I can’t.

Pregame Thoughts

So let me get this straight. The Spurs blew out the first two games at home. Detroit returned the favor in its first chance at home. As I listen to these ABC guys before the game, tortured as the commentary is, I’m listening to the predictions that favor Detroit. How abominable the Spurs played on Tuesday. All of them. All of the articles I read today had the same tone. Despite a 2-1 Spurs lead, the media is favoring Detroit. Interesting. But only in one article did I see the point raised that no one else has really mentioned. Not even as a footnote. Although Duncan, et al. played sub-par games, they were ahead by one at the half. And it was tied with just over a minute to play in the third. And the Spurs played poor basketball. No one’s talking about that tonight, though. Interesting. Oh, wonderful. The American Idol 2005 is singing the national anthem. Nadia totally should have won. Let’s get on with this game.

Ouch, Indeed

If you’da told me at the start of the game that San Antonio was gonna suffer a 17-point loss, I woulda said you were crazy. Well, I’m crazy. The second-half debacle of no rebounding, poor field-goaling, poor defense, etc. gave way to the home-team ambush. So there have now been three games and three blowouts. I’m not sure what that says about either team. Detroit broke down in the first two. And San Antonio never broke through tonight. That they were up by one at the half says that they were just playing “defensively,” and not in a good way. It was bound to happen. And Thursday will be interesting. And I must say, Ben Wallace is fun to watch. Period. And I’m not so sure how I feel about the Dukes of Hazzard movie. Jessica Simpson is an ok substitute for Catherine Bach, I suppose. For now. When I was a kid, that show was a huge part of my life. Every day, I longed for Friday when I could pretend to fly through the sky in an unfortunately confederate flagged car, being just like Bo and Luke. Well, I thought Bo was cooler, so I wanted to be like him, although I’d want to wear Luke’s blue shirt. And then there was Daisy Duke. Whew. One Friday afternoon when I was about five or so, my mom and Tan and I went to a Walgreen’s-type store. Could have been K-mart. I don’t remember. I was minding my own business walking up and down aisle after aisle. And I happened upon a bin of watermelon candy. Watermelon candy to me, for some reason, was forbidden. I had only had it a few times, but it was such a delectable taste to my young palette that I just had to have it. And I knew no one would buy it for me. So I lifted some. Stole a couple of pieces right out of the bin. All I had to do was wait till I was in the confines of my bedroom to stick it in my mouth and enjoy that mouth-watering tasted. But I wasn’t so smart. Immediately upon taking my seat in the car, I unwrapped my first piece and shoved it in. “What do you have in your mouth?” my mother asked. “Nothing,” I said, hoping that my inability to form whole words wouldn’t tip her off. Not considering that, if the flavor bursts in my mouth, then its odor certainly fills the car. They nailed me. Grounded. No Dukes of Hazzard that night. I never stole again. Going to sleep with the Spurs’ loss in my head.

Fired Up!

It’s coming up on game time, and though I’m nervous, I’m quite excited. Detroit’s hoppin’ pissed — the Pissedons, if you will (sorry) — and they’re gonna come the hell out. ABC’s Michelle Tafoya made it a point to mention the L.A. series last year. They all remember it. And that’s a nice damn suit, Stuart Scott. Whew. Note to self: go buy a green shirt tomorrow. So I’m just gonna sit back and watch this little thing. I’ll be back a little later, win or lose….

Whoa Nelly!

ESPN.com. Is there a picture of any of the Spurs on the homepage tonight? Is there a picture of Bruce Bowen mid-three-point shot? How about of Robert Horry sneaking in after a Spurs’ field goal to steal an inbounds pass? Or of Manu Ginobli flying out of bounds to save a possession, which turned into three points? A Tim Duncan rebound. A Tony Parker pass through the key to a driving Ginobli? They can all be caught, these pictures. And perhaps they were. But none are on display tonight on ESPN.com. Ok, then. Let’s get on with it. I don’t wanna hear another word about the Spurs being boring. Never. Ever. Every day, I go to my personalized Google ‘San Antonio Spurs’ news and I read countless articles talkin’ about ‘this is gonna be a boring series’; ‘two defensive teams playing each other in the finals can only be good for the seven or so fundamentalists out there.’ Enough. This San Antonio Spurs team, though they arrived twenty-seven years ago and have been blessed by the likes of George Gervin, David Robinson (true love right there), and Sean Elliott, and now Timmy, Manu, and Tony, is finally being recognized. They’re making shit happen. Period. Cutting through the key practically untouched, hitting (thankfully!) from the line, from beyond the arc, blocking shots, chasing loose balls out of bounds, stealin’, fakin’….Winning. The thing is, they’ve been doing it all along. Boring nothing. ‘It’s a must-win for the Spurs tonight,’ they say (yes, even David); ‘Detroit had to do this or do that’; ‘Detroit just fell apart; they were lax.’ How about giving the Spurs props for beating four games to one a Denver team that was hitting during the stretch; a Seattle team four games to two (I think) that was right up there with Phoenix and San Antonio throughout the season for the top spot; and a Phoenix team four games to one that, well, that was the best team in the league and featured the league’s MVP? And now? Up two games to none against the defending champs. Fifteen- and twenty-one point victories, respectively. I want to hear some Spurs props. I wanna hear from the Spurs players. I wanna see quote after quote from my Google news page tomorrow from Pop and Timmy, et al. And I don’t wanna hear excuses about ‘I didn’t get any good shots…it wasn’t Bowen’s defense at all.’ You’re right, Rip. It wasn’t Bowen at all. The silent stopper, the defensive specialist who chose back in college to specialize on this end of the court. He had nothin’ to do with it. I think your vision might be a little cloudy from the sweat pooling in your mask. So the boys are gonna fly to Detroit, with the knowledge that they blew a 2-0 lead last year against the Lakers in the second round. They’re going into a place that, according to Bill Walton (SHUT UP!), is the one place in all of sports that is the hardest to play for a visiting team. As respectful sportsmen do, they’re going to go in there and play as though they’re down by two rather than up. They’re going to understand that Detroit will be out for blood, unhappy with their output thus far and unwilling to be embarrassed again. They’ll just go in there and be the Spurs. They will walk into the Palace with the respect that they have for Detroit and its game. For the game. I hope the press give some of that respect back to a team that deserves it.

The Time is Near

The NBA calendar hung on my wall; I looked at it every day to see who the Spurs were playing. And the Suns. And the Sonics. Because I wanted the Spurs to always be in first. Then I started paying attention to Miami. Because I wanted the Spurs in the end to have the best record in the league. Despite their second-seed status, they’re in the finals, as all six of you have been made excruciatingly aware of by me, and the show starts tomorrow. Marc Stein of ESPN said it best when he wrote: They have the best player in the series and, well, maybe the two best players. They have the far deeper bench and the home-court advantage and the sort of stylistic adjustability that has their coach, in a complimentary way, calling them chameleons. They have to be the favorites in the forthcoming NBA Finals, these San Antonio Spurs. Yes, they do have to be the favorites. Despite the fact that their opponent will be playing Game 1 on only three days’ rest, though, Detroit is the defending champion. They are ruthless on the defensive end. And have a lot of, let’s say, visible fire. Whereas the silver and black, sleek in their output, keep much in, kind of like me. A random fist pump by Tim Duncan is not unlikely, though, especially after hitting consecutive free throws in a fourth quarter. I’m excited for this match-up, because it’s going to be good basketball. I even got into a rather lengthy conversation with my IT guy today about it. We’re very excited. And nervous. Would I be remiss, or just plain stupid, by predicting the Spurs in four? Yes, I know I would be, but I would like to believe that only because my heart does bad things when the Spurs drop games. The one they lost to the Suns had me in a funk for a while. So as I prepare to sleep on the eve of Game 1, I’m hoping for a Spurs’ sweep, but will settle for a 4-2 series in favor of the Texans — one of the only good things to come out of the state that held onto its slaves the longest.