The Sports Guy Made Me Do It
And I know this team. I've followed them since I was ten, when they were granted David Robinson (or, as Magic would say, "David Robisson") by random chance. I recall the rookie card hype. I remember sitting on my back porch with my father, listening to the 1989 NBA draft and praying that Danny Ferry would fall past the Clips. (He didn't, of course. They're the Clippers, people. They took the prematurely-bald Dookie before the likes of Sean Elliott, Glen Rice, J.R. Reid, Tim Hardaway, Sean Kemp, B.J. Armstrong, Vlade Divac and Cliff Robinson. OK, I'll give you J.R. Reid, but the rest of those guys were solid starters at a minimum.)
I remember where I was in 1999 when they won their first championship (at Bandera Downs of all places-- but they had TVs there!-- I saw Avery hit the jumper in the corner and I remember Elliott chunking the ball into the air as the time expired). I spent hours on the phone with Matty the Blade discussing how there was no rational explanation for the Spurs not demolishing the Nets in 4. I was again on the phone when Duncan hit the "lucky shot," mumbling "It's not over, Matty, it's not over. I'm not letting this sink in yet..." And five minutes later I was still on the phone, in shocked silence while my wife cried on the couch (I swear to Jesus, if Derek Fisher would have reacted in any other manner I would have hunted him down and gutted the overrated son of a bitch. It would have only taken one strut, one punch of the chest, one smirk, one little "I'm going to soak this in" pause. I would have killed him. You think I'm kidding.).
So, basically, I'm going to talk a lot about the Spurs. I'll have midseason player evaluations up this week. How exciting.