Man, I love the NBA Playoffs. And, the first weekend delivered. I called the Mavericks in six back at the beginning of the year, while Caron Butler was still a functioning human. There is no way in Shaq’s calf strain they are winning the whole thing at this point. But, I’m a man of my prognostication and I won’t back down from the prediction. Every team has a flaw and Dallas is as likely as anyone to put it together. Portland is a sexy pick to upset the Mavericks in the first round but I believe it is precisely this uniformity of early doubt which will propel a veteran and cagey team to a stunning victory over the . . . well, you’ll just have to listen to find out.
The song also includes my stage dad confession. My son loves to ball. He wants to play for Kentucky (I was thinking Princeton or MIT or the recently no-longer-winless-in-their-conference-after-26-years Cal Tech Beavers). But, regardless, his ultimate 7-year-old ambition is the NBA. And, so, of course, that has also become mine for him. I spend hours watching youtube videos of vertical jump infomercials in hopes of somehow cheating the genetic sabotage he’s inherited. I’ve tediously read all 700+ pages of Bill Simmons‘ Book of Basketball, and concomitant trove of footnotes, in hopes that some clue to the secret of a future NBA career is there. It’s not. Just page after page of evidence that we don’t have a chance.
Parents are ridiculous. We see our children accidentally fail to dribble it off their kneecap and we think . . . yep, the next Derek Rose. My boy:
Performed by ipoet. Music produced by Sundance.
Today’s song blog here:Win or Go Home: The Next Derek Rose