After all I am a hoopaholic, residing in Hoopsylvania, charged by the powers that be at LEO Weekly to blog about sports. It is my duty.
The truth, the awful unexpurgated truth, is that I’ve watched very little so far. To be honest, when I’ve turned on the TV in the evenings to catch some of the action, I’ve found myself surfing over to Pawn Stars or an Austin City Limits Festival concert or one of those car chase shows or — the guiltiest of guilty pleasures — Toddlers & Tiaras. (But only because my pal Paul is the proud CFO of the company that produces this televised kitsch. Honest.)
Last night, instead of Boston/ Philly, I found myself watching some Gypsy Wedding proceedings, where the train on the bride’s gown was so long it almost choked her when stuffing the length of white fabric and crinolines in the limo after the nuptials. You gotta admit, that’s more entertaining that watching Kevin Garnett going tourette on a 76er after draining a trey. Besides, Boston was up like 30.
I knew I was in trouble this season when I found myself only clicking back to the hoops when Charles, Shaq, Kenny and Ernie were doing the halftime show. (Their shtick really doesn’t work during the NCAAs, but it’s all that and a bag o’ chips during the pro games.)
Mind you, I’m not one of those inveterate college hoops fans that immediately dismisses the pro game because of the differences between the two. That said, a hard foul should be a T. Walking is walking. And Garnett’s pass protection block worthy of the NE Patriots the other night was indeed a foul, and had to be called even if it — or especially if it — cost the Celts the game.
I loathe the leeway allowed these players, the best in the world. Make ‘em play the game the way it’s supposed to be played. (One thing the league does right is how they call fouls when a player is impeded cutting through the lane without the ball. It’s a foul in the NBA, whereas Kyle Kuric would be mugged and there would be no whistle from Jim Burr.)
Okay, enough ranting. As for the games, well, Miami looked like a lock in the East after Chicago spit out the bit when Derrick Rose went down. Then Chris Bosh was injured, so now the heat is on Miami. (The dialog about whether the shortened, tightened season might be the culprit for the rash of post season injuries is legit.)
With every game he plays, Rajon Rondo is proving he’s the biggest mistake of Rick Pitino’s career. That includes the reality that the coach gave up on Chauncey Billups way way way too early.
Indy and Philly both look feisty, but not quite ready for prime time . . . yet. The same can be said for the Clippers.
I love San Antonio, because the Spurs just play the game. You never read about them in the gossip columns. (Except, of course, when Tony Parker married then divorced disparate housewife Eva Longoria.)
I love Okie City because Kevin Durant is all ballet all the time, is bound if he keeps it up to relegate that Jordan guy to Avis status, and he seems a nice dude. Plus OKC scored the last 9 last night when 7 down to beat the LA Kobes. If the Thunder make the Finals, the paradigm shift in the West will be complete.
So, with the conference semis well underway, I trust my fandom will kick in sooner rather than later and I’ll pay more attention.
Unless, that is, I get locked in a Storage Wars marathon.
– Seedy K