Lakers: 8-0 Perfection

The Lakers are winning basketball games. That's all you really need to know.

Win vs. Rockets by 2
Win @ Suns by 8
Win vs. Warriors by 24
Win vs. Grizzlies by 19
Win @ Kings by 12
Win vs. Raptors by 5
Win vs. Blazers by 25
Win vs. Timberwolves by 5

So half their wins were by double-digits and three of them were last-minute competitions. What's good about that is the fact that every significant contributor on the roster besides Bynum is healthy and we've been able to see the situational line-ups for the squad.

For the last 6 minutes against the Rockets: Blake/Brown/Bryant/Odom/Gasol.
For the last 6 minutes against the Raptors: Fisher/Brown/Bryant/Odom/Gasol.
For the last 6 minutes against the Wolves: Fisher/Bryant/Artest/Odom/Gasol.

I think it's pretty much all mind games for PJ at this point. He knows he can't hurt Derek Fisher's psyche, so he gave Blake the ultimate confidence boost by putting him in a position to make a big play at the end of his very first Laker game ... which he perfectly did by sealing the game with a three off a Kobe kick-out. And then Phil knows he has complete mental dominance over Ron-Ron, so he's not afraid to play the hot hand and stroke Shannon Brown's ego when he's having a productive night. Not many people thought Brown would be logging heavy minutes with the Blake and Barnes additions, but he's proven to be far too valuable to ride the pine in the early going.

And it's only up from here. When Bynum gets in game shape, the NBA collectively goes on big-man-potential watch. He's strickly a role whenever he's hobbled by a knee injury, but he's still got the skill set, size, and intelligence to be an All-Star center. I still believe it, at least. Regardless, he'll instantly bring the team defense up a significant notch with his interior rotations and intimidating shot-blocking presence. Pau and him haven't seen many days where their offensive games clicked perfectly on the same night, but as long as the two of them add up to around 1.5, the Lakers are sitting pretty. Lamar seems more focused than at any point in his entire career, so a soft 6th man demotion should do none to deter his stellar production so far this year. It's crazy how those World Championship games seemed to prime him perfectly in a strange pre-training camp way to get him in amazing shape with a clear mind. His minutes won't even see a real drop with Bynum back since Ratliff/Caracter's collective floor time and a little bit of Matt Barnes' clock will make up the difference.

I got a great feeling about this team. Screw all the pre-season commentators trying to make Kobe's knee and age the non-LeBron headline as a reason why the Lakers weren't going to be able to three-peat. Maybe the stats simply don't compute as pretty for the squad with a top-two shooting guard of all-time, the best post player in the world, the most versatile 6'10" big ever seen, three of the grittiest perimeter defenders in NBA today, and a flurry of outside threats and veteran leaders that are collectively headed by the greatest coach in any professional sport ... ever. Maybe. But who cares? Does the computer get sad when it gets its calcumatated numbers wrong (just go with me on that one word)? The answer to that question is "no." Unless they wire those kinds of computers to have emotions now. Which is entirely possible with John Hollinger and Kevin Arnovitz' conniving asses. I don't even know. But even if that reference is rendered completely superfluous, the Lakers are a band of killers. No Brandon Flowers. Get ready for #17.

Team Highlights:
Scoring - 1st in the league at 112.1 points per game
Rebounding - 4th in the league at 46.1 rebounds per game
Assists - 4th in the league at 24 assists per game
Points Allowed - 11th in the league at 99.6 points given up per game

Individual highlights:
Kobe Bryant
Averages: 24.1 points, 5.8 rebounds, 4.3 assists, 1 steal
Best Game: 30/10/12 triple-double with 3 threes against Sacramento
Pau Gasol
Averages: 23.4 points on 55.1% shooting, 10.8 rebounds, 4.8 assists, 1.5 blocks
Best Game: 20/14/10 triple-double on 9-13 shooting with 3 steals against Portland
Lamar Odom
Averages: 15.8 points on 62.1% shooting, 10.8 rebounds, 3.4 assists, 1.3 3PM on 66.7% shooting
Best Game: 18/17/5 double-double on 8-12 shooting with a steal against Phoenix
Ron Artest
Averages: 10.1 points, 3.4 rebounds, 2 assists, 2 steals
Best Game: 17/1/4 on 7-11 shooting with 3 threes and 2 steals against Sacramento
Derek Fisher
Averages: 8.9 points, 2.4 rebounds, 2.6 assists, 1.38 steals, 1.0 3PM on 57.1% shooting
Best Game: 14/1/3 on 5-6 shooting with a three against Golden State
Steve Blake
Averages: 6.9 points, 1.6 rebounds, 2.4 assists, 1.8 3PM on 50% shooting
Best Game: 14/1/2 on 4-6 three-point shooting against Toronto
Matt Barnes
Averages: 9.1 points, 3.5 rebounds, 2.4 assists
Best Game: 16/14/2 double-double with a block and steal against Memphis
Shannon Brown
Averages: 9 points, 1.6 rebounds, .9 assists, 1.13 steals, 1.5 3PM on 50% shooting
Best Game: 16/1/1 on 6-9 shooting with 4 threes and 4 steals against Houston

... and Free Enes.

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Retooling a Champion

I know it's kind of crazy to talk about the needed reconstruction of a back-to-back world champion, but I feel the need to. The Lakers are going to need to cement two glaring spots in their roster if they hope to end the 2010-2011 season with the insanely unprecedented accomplishment of Phil Jackson's fourth three-peat. And here are my hopes for those spots ...

We're losing quite a few locker room soldiers this offseason. Shannon Brown, Jordan Farmar, DJ Mbenga, Adam Morrison, and maybe Josh Powell are all likely to aim for a few more bucks than the Lakers are willing to pay for guaranteed back-up guys. I'm going to pencil in Derek Fisher for a return, but it's probably going to be at a reduced role for the first time if Mr. Buss' wallet has anything to say for it. The two needs that that leaves the champs with is a starting-caliber point guard as well as a wing who preferably is a knockdown shooter.

This two part checklist will have to be accomplished in tiers. We'll either have to snatch a top tier wing with the full midlevel exception and a lesser-noted PG with whatever pennies are left, or the other way around. For the wing position, the prime candidate is easily Mike Miller. And the Lakers for sure know that. The early word is they've already thrown $30 million at him and are trying to force him into an immediate agreement on it. It's easy to understand why, as Miller is probably one of the ten best long-range bombers in the league today, hitting 48% of his 3s last season with the Wizards. If he can stay healthy for the length of the season, an Artest/Miller wing combo next to Kobe Bryant is perfect for literally any individual situation. Next to Miller, I like T-Mac as a darkhorse candidate. If he's serious about wanting to win a fricking playoff series in his career, he just needs to sign with L.A. regardless of the money. If those guys happen to fall through, the 2A, 2B, and 2C options are guys like Raja Bell, Matt Barnes, and Anthony Morrow. If you can add a feared defensive specialist like Bell or Barnes in addition to Ron Ron, the Lakers can shut down any backcourt in the league. Any of these guys instantly add a far favorable stretch shooter who can get on the floor, unlike an Adam Morrison-type guy who is strictly a mop-up player. Who cares if Kobe innately hated these competitors when he matched up opposite against them?

Tier 1: Mike Miller, Tracy McGrady
Tier 2: Raja Bell, Matt Barnes, Anthony Morrow

Or L.A. could go a different direction with the MLE and offer it all to try and steal Steve Blake. Although the guy seems to be a guaranteed candidate to change teams darn near every single year, he's the kind of younger, heady veteran who could pick up the Triangle Offense pretty quickly and flourish specifically in that lead guard role. He's a tad taller at 6-3, which is what Phil prefers, and he just makes solid decisions with his 3-point shot and passing ability. He's a guy who's only averaged double figure points once in his career, but he's still a highly coveted player due to him having a seemingly perfect game to be the heir to Derek Fisher's place with the future Kobe Bryant era Lakers. The next group of potential point guards include Earl Watson and Luke Ridnour. Earl is completely deferential and as strong a defensive presence at the 1 as you will find, while Luke is the creative plug-in point who would hopefully nestle into a comfort zone since he wouldn't need to force the action as much as he previously did with Seattle and Milwaukee. After that, we might have to try to squeeze whatever is left from Gilbert Arenas' shooting partner for minimum money.

Tier 1: Steve Blake
Tier 2: Earl Watson, Luke Ridnour
Tier 3: Javaris Crittenton, anyone else

If only to fill out the league's required roster minimum, the Lakers might have to pick up their 2010 second round draft picks, Devin "Guy Who Ruined UK's Season" Ebanks and Derrick "UL Flunky" Caracter. And regardless of if we may have to look into flipping Lamar Odom for either cap relief or completely unforeseen available talent, I'm inclined to believe that the 2011 season will be another banner year for the Los Angeles Lakers. Phil Jackson wouldn't let it happen any other way.

... and do the John Wall.

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Part Seven: Another Series of Unfortunate Events

All we had left to do was either win a game on their court or win a game on our court or win a Game 7 on their court. We simply had to avoid a three game losing streak and we would join in one of the most highly anticipated second round series of all time: the Across-the-Hall matchup with the already advanced Clippers! It would be absolutely insane. Quite literally, there never had been a Clip Show team that had shown fight like this one-time assembly of a collectively healthy and randomly thrown together group of Brand-Maggette-Cassell-Kaman-Mobley. We just needed one game!

But we didn’t get it. We got brushed aside pretty nonchalantly that first closeout attempt in the infamous game where Raja Bell eluded an attempted manslaughter conviction on national television when he intentionally clotheslined and forcibly threw down Kobe during a drive to the paint. Even though we lost that one, hope was high due to Bell’s obviously implemented suspension for the next game at Staples. But we decided that a golden opportunity like that should instead lead to blowing the simplest opportunity you’re ever going to get in the playoffs at home to advance to the next round. A desperation three-pointer was chucked with the Suns down three in the closing seconds of the game. If every Laker on the court had simply implemented the loudest cry of any amateur basketball coach in America, it would have been over. As the ball clanged off the rim and backboard, hovering in the air just waiting to be defensively gobbled up by someone in yellow, someone didn’t put their butt on a body. Shawn Marion weaseled his way into the lane to snatch the ball and kick it out to the perennially unreliable Tim Thomas for a retry three which, as they usually do in unfortunate situations, singed the net. Overtime occurred. And with it, a butt whooping. All of this achieved by the Suns in direct retaliation to Kobe’s 50 points he would score on the night as he so badly tried to will the Lake Show to a closeout victory. Fatefully, it was a butt whooping that lasted for all of the five minutes of overtime as well as the next four quarters of Game 7. That was it. The countless T-shirts and memorabilia for the all-L.A. matchup had to be scrapped. We somehow manage the near impossible, becoming one of those teams that’s listed on the wrong side of the record book. Darn near every team closes out the series when up 3-1 … except us. That sucks.

But it seemed like a good foundation, right? I know we historically blew an opportunity to get to the Western Conference Finals against all odds, but this team seemed like it had a core under the tutelage of Phil Jackson that could put up a serious fight in the coming years with just a few tweaks. So what did we do? We started tweaking.

[to be continued]

... but do take my word for it.

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Part Six: Move That Bus

We parted with one of our rising studs in Caron Butler to get … wait for it … wait for it … … … Kwame Brown. Laker supporters now had to defend the likes of Kuh-wah-me Brown. Maybe the most legitimate bust of a #1 pick in National Basketball Association history. And yet while he was a beloved Laker, I took the intiative to twist his inadequacies a lil’ bit. Yes, I’m guilty of it. His lack of mobility became his superb defensive fortitude and immovability! His refusal to offensively assert himself became his team-oriented selflessness! His ineptitude to develop any sense of purpose on the basketball court became his still untapped potential! His cement bricks for hands became his … no, those were the exact same. Those (purple & gold) rose-colored glasses that I refused to replace with normal contacts led me to root for, again, Kuh-wah-me Brown. I still can’t believe it myself.

But you know why I thought the team could work? The Lakers restarted their seemingly impossible re-rebuilding phase by bringing back the igniter that had never failed over an extended period of time. Ever. Phil Jackson. Freshly rested from his Kobe-snitching “The Last Season” book tour, our resident Zen Master decided that the bad blood really wasn’t that bad. If he brought this team of Chex Mix-like pieces together, then that would really be something. Could title aspirations come out of an utter failure of a season just because P-Jax was back at the helm? We would see.

The very first game of that season was so exciting that no one could be blamed for having hope. Future aspirations were heaped on rookie center Andrew Bynum, though everyone new Phil disregarded most rookies. Our newly signed (strictly because no one else wanted him) point guard Smush Parker would start his season-opening string of 20-point games that had everyone tagging him as an epic find and out-of-nowhere potential playmaking star. It seemed that way at first. Shut up. The specific excitement came in the form of an overtime game-winning possession against the Denver Nuggets. I guess Phil thought he would make an immediate legend of Kwame, because he designed the play for him. And it looked pretty good actually. The guy made a strong (albeit terrified) move to the basket for a lay-up. Which he botched, of course. But the ball got immediately tapped out and found its way into Kobe’s hands, and he in turn mopped up the mess by hitting a highly contested straight on go-ahead jumper from 22 feet. Let the ascension begin.

But it didn’t quite begin. Yes, this was a season of legend by the (soon to be former) #8 that will probably never be individually replicated, but the team didn’t live up to lofty bounce-back expectations. This was the stretch of Bryant’s career where he created a whole other standard of scoring expertise. Comparisons were blown out the window. The once-arguable matchup of offensive savvy between Tracy McGrady and Kobe Bryant was no longer relevant. In a near unbelievable first three quarters of a game against the Dallas Mavericks, Kobe outscored the entire opposing squad at a clip of KB: 62, Mavs: 61. He then proceeded to kick back the entire fourth quarter and never reenter the game, which led to harsh criticism of him depraving the public of an all-time historical performance. Just weeks later, as if a direct answer to the critics, Kobe came out firing again against the Toronto Raptors. When it was all said and done, every defender in the arena that night had Kobe imprinted on their foreheads to the tune of 81 points. Like … that’s … e-i-g-h-t-y o-n-e. Even further disregarding all semblance of logic, he went on a tear of four consecutive games with over 45 points scored. It became a day-to-day display of excellence for Kobe, finishing the season, unbelievably, with a scoring clip of 35.4 points per game. But somehow … somehow … we weren’t able to distinguish ourselves from the rest of the pack in the Western Conference. It seemed that the rest of the team sometimes sat almost in reverence to Bryant’s individual accolades, never quite coming together cohesively in any way, shape, or form. Only on the strength of Jackson’s pedigree and Kobe’s single-handed brilliance, we reached the playoffs as the 7th seed.

Which meant we met up with the MVP-having Phoenix Suns in the first round. That was during Steve Nash’s two-year reign of making a mockery out of the award-selecting panel. I still have a disgusting taste in my mouth from it. But you know what happened? Game 4 happened. The Lakers made all the adjustments to expose the Suns as fastbreaking phonies. We force fed Kwame and Lamar the ball down low to punish the undersized punks and overachieved our way towards perfectly setting up the commercial-ready moment where in overtime, a jump ball with 6 seconds left on the clock was recovered by Kobe at half court. He took the scene in slowly off the dribble at a diagonal, reaching the opposite wing in an exact amount of calculated steps. Everyone knew the ball would be his and his only. Every opposing player in the vicinity fell upon his shooting elbow. But Kobe, encompassing every facet of perfectionist determination, lifted into the air and gently released the orange roundie to meet its due company in the form of flipping nylon. With that buzzer-beater, the Lakers took a 3-1 series lead. We were on the verge of overthrowing the (*airquotes*) MVP and every playoff choker he called a teammate.

[to be continued]

... but do take my word for it.

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Part Five: Destructive Tendencies

We lost. Our beautiful orchestra of motivated last-chancers dissipated. The Laker Empire would slowly and destructively crumble over the coming months. Kobe was an unrestricted free agent that summer and wouldn’t even publicly acknowledge whether he would recommit with the organization who had housed him since his days at Lower Marion High School. Shaq demanded a trade (to a team in warm climate city, no less) away from the Bryant, whom he claimed was a terrible teammate, and even sold his L.A. home weeks before an accommodation with the Miami Heat was even made. Our supposed-to-be savior Derek Fisher signed away with the lowly Golden State Warriors for more money than the Lakers’ front office was willing to commit to the role-playing point guard. Gary Payton was shipped for spare parts to the gutter-dwelling Beantown Celtics. Phil Jackson was at an odds with management and just kind of went away to zen however much he wanted to away from professional basketball, with an all-revealing book rumored to be coming soon after. Malone’s knee required extensive offseason work and while he entertained the possibility of coming back with the Spurs, Wolves, or Lake Show, he wound up riding off into the Louisiana sunset of post-basketball life. And while Kobe did wind up re-upping after a flirting period with the Bulls and (*deep breath*) Clippers, darn near no one was recognizably left. The team was in tatters.

The inaugural season of my fandom was supposed to be perfect. The Lakers were supposed to ride the coattails of my support to a championship, cementing my personal revenge of 53-foot tall Michael Jordan for attaining so many while I was too young to object to it. But the season wasn’t perfect. Karl didn’t get the championship to cap off his beyond-extraordinary career. The Mailman moved on and I had to stick with the Lakers to start this climb back up from the gutter. Now while I had my hopes for a roster now consisting of the likes of the lanky (and interestingly enough, my second favorite player from the previous season) Lamar Odom, the Swiss army knife Caron Butler, the aged and dreadlocked rebounder Brian Grant, jellybean-sized shooter Chucky Atkins, and the nearly dead chain-smoking Vlade Divac, the ’05 season was something that had me wishing for a temporary case of Alzheimer’s.

We started it all right enough, simply living up to extensively lowered expectations. We had replaced Phil with a similarly larger-than-life coach in Rudy Tomjanovich, but because of health issues and the pressures that are a package deal with being the Lakers coach, he barely lasted past the Christmas meeting with the now rivaling Heat, and the indignantly bitter Shaq, before re-retiring. All in all, we fell apart midseason due to a never-ending string of injuries and overall lack of talent, missing the playoffs altogether. That was a first (and odds-on, only) for Kobe in his career. Drastic measures needed to be implemented. And then a trade went down that would change all of our lives drastically.

[to be continued]

... but do take my word for it.

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Part Four: The Defining Tease

But nothing solved my lack of cable that first season. It kinda sucked a lot as NBC's jingle-worthy NBA contract was long-gone from the masterful Bob Costas days of league action. All I got was the occasional ABC Sunday double-header. Stupid near monopoly by ESPN and TNT stealing my thunder. So the sneaking around ensued. I had to make up as many excuses as possible to go to Garrett's house and catch a game. If we were camping, why don't we drive out to a restaurant that, I don't know, has a TV? I had to beeeeg to stay up and bum on the couch for a super late night game when we stayed the weekend with my aunt in Frankfort. I know it's a school night, but how does B-Dub's sound at 10 pm? I had to make visits to see Caroline more than just a weekend thing to bum her TV, too. Every week it was a mission to get to view this immaculate game I was so terribly elated with.

The regular season was tough. With our quad HoFers (Hall of Famers), we were immediately tagged to possibly be the successors of those '96 Payton-beating Bulls in all-time wins. It started beautifully ... until Karl Malone got hurt for the very first time in his entire fricking life. Scott Williams, the most irrelevant player to ever get in the league, decided he overzealously just had to compensate for his lack of significance by jumping for the only time in his career to defend a jump shot and just had land on top of The Mailman's knee. Jerk. No one knew then, but it would cost him much of the season and get reaggravated literally a game before the NBA Finals. That left us ... *sigh* ... Slava Medvedenko (intended to be read irritatingly slow, syllable-by-syllable) as our next power forward option. Doomed.

Here's the 2004 season fast-forwarded, which toyed with every emotion I didn't know I had. Kobe had one of most classic endings ever to the regular season, with playoff seeding on the line. In regulation, Kobe flung off Ruben Patterson for an absolutely disgusting way-too-far-away off-balance three pointer to send the game into overtime. And if only to outdo himself, Kobe came off a screen at the buzzer of the second overtime to hit another fade-away three over the switching shot blocker Theo Ratliff which gave them the improbable season-ending win. This leap-frogged them from the 4th seed to 2nd seed as the Pacific Division champs, only behind the (soon to expire) T-Wolves and a much more favorable schedule. This somehow positively capped a regular season of Bryant stupidity involving (... of course ...) the rape trial and shot selection questioning which all came boiling over during a game against Sacramento where Kobe seemingly refused to shoot the ball under any circumstances in the first half. Just to prove a point. Ugggh. But I knew we'd get it straight in the playoffs. We had to. This was my adopted franchise!

We made short work of the then-rising Houston Rockets with the human log Yao Ming and soon-to-be-nonexistant Steve Francis. I specifically remember a nail-biting where the Lake Show played entirely perfect defense on a crazy long 24 second sequence where Houston had one last shot for the game, ending on a back-up option kick-out to Jim Jackson which was heavily contested (and thankfully missed) by our rotating defender. Those are the kinds of missed opportunities by underdog teams that legitimately kick them in the butt and they rarely recover from. But who cares about H-Town? We had to take a cab up I-(something or another) to San Antonio for the defending champs.

And the rusty boot-pokies (or Spurs, if you wanna be all proper) blitzed us. I mean, I hate football as well as unnecessary inter-sport references, but they absolutely knocked the wind out of us with Tony Parker getting any and every uncontested lay-up he cared for along with Tim Duncan being all boring and efficient like usual. Most people called for Shaq or Karl to simply club the Frenchman in the face for the rest of the series to deter his lay-upnicity. While they did adjust to body him up better from that point on, it just turned out that all the Lakers needed was a classic miracle for the ages by the player everyone least expected. You know, one of those.

So we’d somehow tied the series up 2-2. Who knew? It was Game 5 back on their turf. Pivotal, ya know? Crazy great contested game leading all the way to an exhausted Kobe go-ahead jumper off a classic Karl Malone screen with under a minute to go. Then the Spurs come down and we play crazy defense on them and force an inbounds with only a few second on the shot clock. Great position, right? And all Tim Duncan does is catch the ball out of his range, taking a bobbling couple of dribbles leading into a falling one-handed jumper/floater/turd of a shot that just so happens to fall through the net to give them the lead with nothing but 0.4 seconds left on the game clock. Zero-point-four seconds. Four-tenths-of-a-second. Fantastic.

So I guess Phil drew up a play or whatnot. I assume coaches do or say something inspirational to rally the troops in impossible situations. Anyways, masterful inbounder Gary Payton claps the ball on the wing, everyone starts in motion, and Gregg Pop-a-zit queues a quick timeout. Ugh. Re-do. Masterful inbounder Gary Payton claps the ball on the wing, everyone starts in motion, and Phil Jax queues a quick timeout. Ugh. Re-do. Masterful inbounder Gary Payton claps the ball on the wing, everyone starts in motion, and no one calls a timeout this time. Shaq and Karl run this double screen set in the paint to free up Kobe for a flash out at the three point line. But he’s covered. Dually, Shaq tries to rub off into an attempt for an alley-oop, but it’s covered. Karl falls back to towards a possible hole around the free throw, but … yep … it’s covered. Hmmm … has it been five seconds yet? Apparently not. There’s seemingly no one to go to, but out of nowhere … nowhere … Derek Fisher (who knew he was even in the game?) flares out directly towards GP who by now has to let go off the ball. In one motion, after seemingly hours of suspense, Fisher catches it mid-turn and lefty flings it a mile up in the air. To make a .4 second story even shorter … it swished. Pandemonium 2004! I think I screamed at that moment for (I hope) the only time in my life. Without even meaning to I launched out of my bed and found myself running up and down the hall at like midnight or whatever. One of the single greatest moments I can ever remember.

The Spurs were dead after that one. Of course they lost in L.A. on the Game 6 closeout. We were on a juggernaut rampage now and no one would get in our way. Not even the league-leading Timberwolves. In a series where Kevin Garnett cussed a lot, Latrell Sprewell had cornrows a lot, Sam Cassell looked like Gollum a lot, Michael Olowakandi lacked basketball skills a lot, and Oliver Miller prolly ate doughnuts a lot, the Lakers prevailed in six. That’s all you really need to know. It went a game longer than it should have, but even after Karl Malone left the series a little gimpy, everyone knew the inexperienced Eastern champ (by default of conference suckiness) Pistons would be no match for us. We had four HoFers (if you needed reminding)! They had a ragamuffin band of unwanted parts that couldn’t put points on the board and barely had an all-star résumé between them. Case closed. Cancel the Finals and hand out the rings.

Now this minor little part of the story is so painful that I refuse to relive it piece by piece. It was now into June of the summer after my 8th grade year and I had my one church camp of the year leaving a day after Game 3 where the Lakers were down 1-2 in the series. I was devastated to have to leave after the previous night’s game where I literally turned the TV off and tried to go to sleep after the third quarter of a pathetically mediocre Laker showing (but I couldn’t handle it a half hour later and turned it back on, just to see them in the same exact hole with seconds left). But so be it. With all my instantaneous obsession with the NBA, I somehow had just enough sense left to know God could take precedence over what was going on in the basketball world. Begrudgingly so. But I swore I was going to camp without the burden of the Finals outcome and wouldn’t be sneaking around to find out the scores over the week. But the jerk camp leaders who had TVs and cell phones for nighttime use just haaad to talk about the games the mornings after anyway. Ugh. The website prolly didn’t exist back then, but FML.

[to be continued]

... but do take my word for it.

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