It’s times likes these I pray for writer’s block. I haven’t gotten around to looking up from this glowing computer screen to actually confirm it, but the television behind me just said summer is around the corner. Based on the date showing on my cell phone screen, that would appear to be confirmed. Barring a nuclear winter in the next five minutes, this missive will be seen through to its conclusion.
Recall a time when summer represented a time of freedom from three months of physical education, the gruel served by that seedy-looking fellow who always wore a state-mandated hairnet, and the random detention … Actually, come to think of it, school did seem a little like prison didn’t it? Flash forward to an indeterminate period of time later. Nope no physical activity, unless getting up to use the commode at regular intervals counts as a calorie-burning activity. The guy in the hairnet? Once the butt of jokes among 3rd graders, now comes the realization that he undoubtedly made more money doling out stale Sloppy Joe’s than I do opining about sports. And detention now lasts as long as a seven-game series.
Why miss out on the opportunity to eat one’s weight in barbecue to watch the NBA Finals, featuring the perennially hapless Dallas Mavericks and the overly-maligned Miami Heat, cornering the NBA’s cherished jaded NASCAR fan demographic? A rematch of the 2006 Finals, where the Mavericks famously frittered away a 2-0 series lead to lose in 6 games. The NBA would like you to think that its championship pairings age like a fine bottle of scotch. In this case, it would probably be best to check the expiration date on that boxed wine left over from the Bush administration. Give it time, though, and the story lines will be hashed out (perhaps some hashing would aid enjoyment).
A ring for the King? A smirk for Dirk? Maybe they’ll even throw in clips of the movie Maverick and Heat since we are already going back into the archives. Val Kilmer might be a full Pacino over his playing weight, but to quote the immortal Mark Jackson, you gotta give him credit. Regardless, if I were a betting man, I’d take the Mavericks in seven … years.