We here at No Regard love our stories. And the playoffs are where each narrative strand that was teased in the regular season is shredded or affirmed. So, here are the first round series as we see them. Thank you.
“You’re supposed to be dead!” “Am I not?”
How flummoxed the British soldiers must have been the first time they slammed their sword through a pirate’s chest, only to see that same pirate pull the sword through his body, leering, and painlessly slide it back out again. What a horrified look the Brits must have given each other as they ran towards their fate. How disheartening it must have been to fight a war against a well-armed and undead opponent. There must have been pirates in that bunch who had sailed the seas aggressively plundering for (I’m no mathematician) close to a million years. “Why, this is unfair!” the Brits must have wanted to point out.
By all accounts, this Suns team should not exist. They should not be able to walk, let alone play basketball. We’re talking about a team that starts Amar'e Stoudemire (who happens to age like Robin Williams in Jack) and Grant Hill (presumably a grandparent). Teams must be pissed. Every time Amar'e or Grant Hill dunks, I just imagine the Suns medical team, “cheersing” shots and cackling wildly like the mad geniuses they are.
I appreciate that the improbability of all this isn’t obvious to everyone, because Sun teams over the past decade have been arguably the most consistent and exciting offensive basketball team ever. So the fact that they’re still great may not seem all that shocking to your friend Steve, that guy who only watches games at bars, but what does Steve know? He's nice enough, but he's way too passionate about the league for a guy who's perpetually four years behind.
“Oh the Suns," says Steve. "Yea, of course the Suns are competitive. They always are. They’re so young and athletic.” Fuck no they’re not Steve! These are the patients driving modern scientific knee rehabilitation research! They should be in wheelchairs! Instead, they won their last two regular season games handily–one against a very strong, though inconsistent, Nuggets team and the other against a playing-for-a-TWO-seed Utah Jazz squad–to cruise into the playoffs as the three. Other teams must not know what to think. “My sword is embedded in your chest! Why won’t you die?” Confusing. Oh, and they’re led by the best pirate ever–an absolutely ageless (but if you had to put a number on it, 36) Steve Nash who looks as if he has a golden mushroom in Mariokart and he’s just hammering on the Z button.
Meanwhile here’s Portland. They have a golden boy, number one draft pick with glass knees who has been famous for porn more recently than basketball, and a stud shooting guard Brandon Roy sidelined with a torn meniscus. The Blazers are glaringly mortal. They should be spotted points. They should get an award (coach Nate McMillian just might), or at the very least an apology from the league. They should take the Suns medical team hostage.
The Blazers deserve to be where they are and will try like all hell to stab Davey Jones in the heart and make this Suns team mortal, but I hope it doesn’t happen. And I hope it ends quickly, because it's going to be almost too sad to watch this limping but proud Portland team discover that, even mortal and trapped, these pirates are gunners. Anyway, the Brits are boring and injured. How much more fun to root for a gang of trigger-happy immortal ruffians?
Defining Quote
"Drink up me hearties, yo ho!"
Suns in 5
How flummoxed the British soldiers must have been the first time they slammed their sword through a pirate’s chest, only to see that same pirate pull the sword through his body, leering, and painlessly slide it back out again. What a horrified look the Brits must have given each other as they ran towards their fate. How disheartening it must have been to fight a war against a well-armed and undead opponent. There must have been pirates in that bunch who had sailed the seas aggressively plundering for (I’m no mathematician) close to a million years. “Why, this is unfair!” the Brits must have wanted to point out.
By all accounts, this Suns team should not exist. They should not be able to walk, let alone play basketball. We’re talking about a team that starts Amar'e Stoudemire (who happens to age like Robin Williams in Jack) and Grant Hill (presumably a grandparent). Teams must be pissed. Every time Amar'e or Grant Hill dunks, I just imagine the Suns medical team, “cheersing” shots and cackling wildly like the mad geniuses they are.
I appreciate that the improbability of all this isn’t obvious to everyone, because Sun teams over the past decade have been arguably the most consistent and exciting offensive basketball team ever. So the fact that they’re still great may not seem all that shocking to your friend Steve, that guy who only watches games at bars, but what does Steve know? He's nice enough, but he's way too passionate about the league for a guy who's perpetually four years behind.
“Oh the Suns," says Steve. "Yea, of course the Suns are competitive. They always are. They’re so young and athletic.” Fuck no they’re not Steve! These are the patients driving modern scientific knee rehabilitation research! They should be in wheelchairs! Instead, they won their last two regular season games handily–one against a very strong, though inconsistent, Nuggets team and the other against a playing-for-a-TWO-seed Utah Jazz squad–to cruise into the playoffs as the three. Other teams must not know what to think. “My sword is embedded in your chest! Why won’t you die?” Confusing. Oh, and they’re led by the best pirate ever–an absolutely ageless (but if you had to put a number on it, 36) Steve Nash who looks as if he has a golden mushroom in Mariokart and he’s just hammering on the Z button.
Meanwhile here’s Portland. They have a golden boy, number one draft pick with glass knees who has been famous for porn more recently than basketball, and a stud shooting guard Brandon Roy sidelined with a torn meniscus. The Blazers are glaringly mortal. They should be spotted points. They should get an award (coach Nate McMillian just might), or at the very least an apology from the league. They should take the Suns medical team hostage.
The Blazers deserve to be where they are and will try like all hell to stab Davey Jones in the heart and make this Suns team mortal, but I hope it doesn’t happen. And I hope it ends quickly, because it's going to be almost too sad to watch this limping but proud Portland team discover that, even mortal and trapped, these pirates are gunners. Anyway, the Brits are boring and injured. How much more fun to root for a gang of trigger-happy immortal ruffians?
Defining Quote
"Drink up me hearties, yo ho!"
Suns in 5
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