Boston 106, Detroit 102; Eastern Finals, 2-3No, I'm not going to rant and rave. I've done enough finger pointing and accusing and blaming for the Pistons' failures. There's no point in doing it anymore. I've run out of anger when it comes to the Pistons. I tried to avoid them tonight. I tried my goddamndest. With the Red Wings getting outhustled in Pittsburgh, I stuck with them, desperately trying to avoid the game in Boston. I settled for watching Hal Gill literally throw Tomas Holmstrom into the net and not get called for a penalty.
And still, the urge to check the Pistons was too much, so I flipped it. And what did I see?
Boston 84, Detroit 67.
I scoffed, and turned it back to the final minutes of the Red Wings' loss. I stuck around NBC for postgame hockey crap, while periodically checking the Pistons' score, because they're like fucking crack cocaine. They're so addictive, but in the end, they'll kill you. And everytime I turned it back to check, the deficit was smaller, until finally I couldn't look away any longer. Those goddamn bastards had lured me in again, and I wanted desperately to believe. A 17 point lead was down to 102-101.
And in the end, Chauncey missed a shot, Rasheed missed a shot, and the Pistons lost, again.
Damn you. Damn you for not being blown out. Damn you for luring me back in with a spirited comeback and then not finishing the job. Damn you for pushing me to the point where I don't have any anger left inside.
Do the honorable thing, Pistons. Roll over and die in Game 6 on your homecourt. Throughout this magical run of 6 straight conference finals, the elimination game has never occurred at the Palace. In 03 it was in New Jersey. In 05, San Antonio. In 06, Miami and in 07, Cleveland. Let this era of Detroit basketball be laid to rest where it began, in Auburn Hills. Don't you dare lure me back in by winning Game 6. Don't you dare try it. Fuck you if you win Game 6 and then lose Game 7. I despise you for what you've done; if you're going to lose, lose. Don't make an art out of it.
I feel bad for guys like Antonio McDyess and Rodney Stuckey. McDyess is doing everything he can to pull the rest of the starters through the malaise. He's trying to pull Tayshaun through even though Tay's legs are shot and he's out of gas. He's trying to pull Chauncey through even though his hamstring is injured. He's trying to pull Rasheed through even though the dude's mind is fried and he got another technical tonight. And Stuckey's too young to be fazed by the malaise. He doesn't know that a prerequisite for being a Piston is showing up 50% of the time and then desperately making a valiant comeback to tease the fans.
I've got nothing left. I've tried everything. I tried to believe this year was different. I tried to distance myself from them to avoid the heartbreak that was delivered tonight. I don't know what else there is for me to do. I've got no energy left. No energy to call out any of the coaches or any of the players. After yet another Pistons debacle, and they come in all shapes and sizes, I've got nothing left in the tank, and nowhere left to hide because of the Cup Finals being off until Saturday now.
Maybe I'll read a book Friday night or something.
And still, the urge to check the Pistons was too much, so I flipped it. And what did I see?
Boston 84, Detroit 67.
I scoffed, and turned it back to the final minutes of the Red Wings' loss. I stuck around NBC for postgame hockey crap, while periodically checking the Pistons' score, because they're like fucking crack cocaine. They're so addictive, but in the end, they'll kill you. And everytime I turned it back to check, the deficit was smaller, until finally I couldn't look away any longer. Those goddamn bastards had lured me in again, and I wanted desperately to believe. A 17 point lead was down to 102-101.
And in the end, Chauncey missed a shot, Rasheed missed a shot, and the Pistons lost, again.
Damn you. Damn you for not being blown out. Damn you for luring me back in with a spirited comeback and then not finishing the job. Damn you for pushing me to the point where I don't have any anger left inside.
Do the honorable thing, Pistons. Roll over and die in Game 6 on your homecourt. Throughout this magical run of 6 straight conference finals, the elimination game has never occurred at the Palace. In 03 it was in New Jersey. In 05, San Antonio. In 06, Miami and in 07, Cleveland. Let this era of Detroit basketball be laid to rest where it began, in Auburn Hills. Don't you dare lure me back in by winning Game 6. Don't you dare try it. Fuck you if you win Game 6 and then lose Game 7. I despise you for what you've done; if you're going to lose, lose. Don't make an art out of it.
I feel bad for guys like Antonio McDyess and Rodney Stuckey. McDyess is doing everything he can to pull the rest of the starters through the malaise. He's trying to pull Tayshaun through even though Tay's legs are shot and he's out of gas. He's trying to pull Chauncey through even though his hamstring is injured. He's trying to pull Rasheed through even though the dude's mind is fried and he got another technical tonight. And Stuckey's too young to be fazed by the malaise. He doesn't know that a prerequisite for being a Piston is showing up 50% of the time and then desperately making a valiant comeback to tease the fans.
I've got nothing left. I've tried everything. I tried to believe this year was different. I tried to distance myself from them to avoid the heartbreak that was delivered tonight. I don't know what else there is for me to do. I've got no energy left. No energy to call out any of the coaches or any of the players. After yet another Pistons debacle, and they come in all shapes and sizes, I've got nothing left in the tank, and nowhere left to hide because of the Cup Finals being off until Saturday now.
Maybe I'll read a book Friday night or something.
2 comments:
From Tuesday, May 27:
"...god knows they could be in for a slew of power plays after their coach Michelle (yes, I spelt it that way on purpose) Therrien spent the entire postgame press conference whining like a sniveling crybaby about the Red Wings getting away with all kinds of obstruction."
From Thursday, May 29:
"I settled for watching Hal Gill literally throw Tomas Holmstrom into the net and not get called for a penalty."
'nuff said....
Yeah, because that's EXACTLY the same thing.
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