Write the things which thou hast seen, and the things which are, and the things which shall be hereafter…
The NBA playoffs are the most exciting, stressful, and complex playoff format in sports. It is like a long drawn out chess match, except it is awesome… and not chess. When the playoffs start, something happens to people. We become mean, we literally rub people’s noses in their team’s loss. Even today I told my boss, “The Spurs CAN be swept.” How about that for a statement? It is theoretically possible that the best basketball team according to regular season record CAN be swept by the eight seed Memphis Grizzlies in the first round. HA!
Villains, upstarts, heroes, sidekicks, one man bands, (basketball) threesomes and true teams: the playoffs have it all. In the East you’ve got the “wisdom of the ages” in the Celtics, the three “super-villains” in the Heat, the Magic who seem to literally revel in the halo of Dwight Howard and forget to actually play basketball at certain points in a game. the Knicks..ahh Jesus Christ how do I describe the Knicks?
Jets fans help me out…
The Knicks like to score when it doesn’t really matter (in the first half) and can’t hold a lead for longer than 5 minutes without crumbling faster than a paper mache chair at a Golden Corral in Roanoke, Virginia.
Then you’ve got the Pacers, who seem like a half decent basketball team trying to save the “soul” of the sport (see also Tyler Hansbrough….WEIGHT ROOM!), the Bulls who are led by what seems like a basketball player/gymnast with a Byronesque last name in Derrick Rose, the Hawks who seem to fall apart all over the place during the regular season yet have enough chemistry and 3/4 stars to always make things interesting, and finally the 76ers who I really don’t care about.
See note below.
Sorry Philadelphia, but I still hate your baseball team, and your sitcom. But do please beat the piss out of the Mets whenever you have a chance. Thanks.
I live in New York, which means I hate almost every Western Conference team just out of pure spite. How’s the weather in LA? Sunny and 65. San Antonio? Sunny and 75. New Orleans? Sunny and 80. New York? 45, and raining/hailing/thunderstorms…
When the Knicks lose, you go back to your studio apartment and lay in the dark like a psychopath. When LA loses a playoff game, fans can go out and get drunk on the beach, even go for a swim in the Pacific by the pale moonlight. Maybe they even swing on down to Tijuana and go on a bender until sunrise, at which point they’ll call their agent and whine for 45 minutes about a life change, simultaneously speeding off to the spa in Arizona for a few days of painkillers, peace and quiet. I hate the west.
That is except for the Oklahoma City Thunder, who I would literally crawl across the nation to watch. There is not much to do in Oklahoma City, so they play basketball. Friday night? Basketball. Saturday? Basketball. When Kobe Bryant calls your two best players “bad motherf*ckers”, you’ve arrived.
Keep in mind, males do not physically mature until the age of 26, so the fact that Russell Westbrook and Kevin Durant have another 4 years of physical maturation ahead of them should scare anyone in the Pacific timezone. Add a Kendrick Perkins, who I prophecy will be missed sorely when it comes down the stretch for the Celtics, and you’ve got a big, fast, scoring at will three.
We will see strange things during the playoffs. The guard will certainly change in some way. Dwight Howard may finally make his mind up to rid himself of the small man with a mustache in 2012. Kobe Bryant may become Nietzsche and find the will to power. LeBron may be vindicated. The Mavericks may yet again be the most secretly made fun of team in the NBA, especially when your owner acts like he is some sort of basketball genius when he really isn’t. 10,000 hour rule Mark. I’m sure you’ve read all that Malcolm Gladwell BS. The Celtics or the Lakers will finally fall for good, and if they don’t pick up a Chris Paul or a Dwight Howard sometime soon it will mark the end of an era. Especially if they survive long enough to make it to the finals. A traveling man once said “I’ve been on the road so long, I don’t even know which way is home”.