Tyler Zeller tried, I think.
John Henson pouted, swatted, and got himself a thumb sucking technical.
Harrison Barnes played like he had somewhere else to be, checking his pocket watch in between jump shots.
Kendall Marshall was lost and in need of a GPS.
Dexter Strickland was there.
The bench had seats.
Train wrecks are quieter than whatever was happening on the court.
Threes fell like arrows.
These atrocities light fires.
These atrocities either make teams want to play harder or they wind up incinerating the whole goddamn squad into gray smoke.
Eight and twenty felt like this.
Eight and twenty felt like ninety to fifty-seven.
The team ran off the court before time expired, like they were trying to get on some last second helicopter, to escape the trials and tribulations of a third world that is beyond peaceful comprehension.
They left men behind.
There's nothing else to say.
3 comments:
I didn't have a problem with them leaving the court honestly, but the sight of 5 walkons on the court with nobody on the bench was rather amusing. I thought of season 1 of Wire and the pawns on the chessboard.
January 14, 2012 at 11:54 PMSomewhere a Lithuanian is still draining buckets.
January 15, 2012 at 1:13 AMI didn't really have a problem with it, but the sight of it just seemed to sum up the whole game--they didn't play as a team. In defense of the walkons being out on the court, an assistant coach and some of the training staff were still on the bench. When the final whistle blew, you could see those guys yelling "GO! GO! GO!" and pointing to the exits. It was a very watered down version of Black Hawk Down.
January 15, 2012 at 8:54 AMPost a Comment