They Fell Towards The Night…How The Lakers And Celtics Went Away In Outrage & Silence

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Watching the end of the Lakers game made me sit back in disbelief, it was all too easy. There was nothing left to examine. I watched a dynasty crumble. The fouls that outraged the old guard of the franchise were almost on cue, it had been written but what scared me the most is that after two complete beat downs Kobe Bryant didn’t completely lose it in any of the press conferences and give that strange scowl of utter disgust towards everyone in the room.

Phil Jackson checked out early. The brain can’t try and compute after so many mistakes. There was nothing to do except try and remember that the voices behind him would soon be gone for good. Find the golden silence and drift away, occasionally whisper to Brian Shaw…

Where does the loss of the Celtics and the Lakers leave us? Where are we going? Is Miami really something we want? I try and look at Miami like postmodern art, I understand the spectacle but there’s no soul there. There is no mystery. It is a pure efficient athletic monster. It is the NBA combine but will it survive the pressure? At this point there have been 353,948 articles available on the internet about the Heat, with the current rate at 27 per hour.

Are we going somewhere too fast? Is there a reality being faced? A strange hyper-trading, big money moves all over the place league of no teammates that aren’t preconceived and no real hometown heroes? What are the Miami Heat? What exactly is Modern Miami for that matter? Are they evil for being so over the top and plastic? Remember that parade? It is impossible not to factor South Beach in to what they represent: it is a funhouse of sex, fast money and drugs and you, America, want a condo on Ocean Drive.

The Lakers were old Hollywood. The Bulls were hallowed ground after Jordan. The Heat are the rap stars of today, they’re richer than you, they’re more popular than you and you’re jealous. You hate the fact that basketball can be the most over the top and entertaining sport known to man, you hate the strong preying on the weak.

You hate it, yet it is like watching cars roar down the Bonneville Salt Flats. You know at least one will explode, it is just a matter of when and explosions are fun from a distance.

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