This is it. One way or another.
There will be seven. At best. No 7 come 11.
Tonight. Sunday. Tuesday. Thursday. Then, maybe, if we’re lucky, another on the sabbath and Tuesday and Thursday, the “if necessary” games, as the euphemism goes.
Then real withdrawal descends upon Hoopsylvania. The curtain closes. The road ends. The bowl is empty. The candle burns out. The Fat Lady sings. Choose the sad and clichéd metaphor of your choice. There shall be no more basketballing until the autumn.
It’s been a euphoric season in these parts. Second in a row actually. Cats and Cards have worn successive crowns. IU is yet again the Hurryin’ Hoosiers.
Such is our affection for the game, so ardent our affinity, we turn to the play for pay version to sate our craving. At least, I do.
Greater talent. Lesser game. But a game nonetheless. The only one still in play.
Ten more days of basketball. At most. Then we’re left with steroid scandals and BoSox vs. Yanks x 40 on the World Wide Leader. Playing cornhole with Uncle Jim while MeMaw fries her up her chicken.
Buuuuuuuuuuut, until then, we get Brash vs. Boring.
South Beach vs. The Alamo.
Joe’s Stone Crab vs. Mi Tierra.
Cabrito & Beans vs. Lox & Bagels.
Thongs on the beach vs. chaps on horseback.
Spurs vs. Heat.
Which is, actually, as these affairs go, a rather intriguing matchup. Miami’s thunder vs. San Antonio’s precision.
I’m wondering here who might prevail if the game was 3 on 3, shirts and skins? James, Wade and Bosh vs. Duncan, Parker and Ginobili? Would the latter’s craft and guile trump the advantage LBJ would have with an open court?
But the rules impose a smaller court. So Chambers and Leonard and Birdman and Splitter and Diaw and Haslem and Cole and Bonner shall ball. And, as often happens, one or another may be the difference maker.
Then there’s the Pop Factor. San Antonio’s mentor is consistently referred to as the best in the biz. He’s facing Erik Spoelstra, who, until he cut down the nets last June, was thought of as Riley’s Pawn, a fungible fixture soon to be replaced. Now he gets some do. Can he make this series Spassky vs. Fischer?
So, my fellow hoopaholics, here’s the deal: The NBA Finals are our last fix of this season.
You want DTs? Don’t tune in. Watch “The Killing” or “Duck Dynasty” or go play Putt Putt with the kiddos, or whatever is your diversion of choice.
You want a gentler landing into the dark season just at the horizon, the one without hoops, tip off is tonight. Tune in. Turn on.
– Seedy K