We're Almost There

"Just one more step,
'Cause we're almost there"
--Almost There, Michael Jackson

This would be the cry of the 2004 Western Conference Champion Los Angeles Lakers, victorious tonight and advancing to the NBA Finals against either of the lugs from the east. Since they defeated San Antonio, the rest seemed as if it would be anti-climactic, but KG and Spree stepped up to make this a series. Garnett very clearly demonstrated his MVP credentials throughout this series, especially with Cassell out and the ball-handling duties falling squarely on his 7-1 frame. He was all over the court--scoring, rebounding, setting up shooters, blocking shots and rarely benefitting from any kind of rest. Lakers win despite his greatness, phew. Now onto the Finals, and who knows what the leastern opponent will bring.
A sports radio host made the point tonight that since 1980, every year but one has featured a team from one of America's four largest cities (New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Houston) in the NBA Finals. They stretched the parameters a little to include New Jersey from last year, but the point was that a conspiracy of sorts exists to allow the league to appeal to it's largest markets for the longest amount of time possible. Ludicrous. Even Ludacris, if i may be so bold.
First of all, New York/New Jersey barely even registers on the map, because the Nets went the last two years and fell meekly at the hands of superior Western opponents, and the Knicks did likewise in 1999. If the biggest market--and the location of league headquarters--needed to be in the spotlight, I'm sure something could have been arranged to prevent Patrick Ewing's missed finger roll against the Pacers or Charles Smith's repeatedly-denied forays at the basket against Chicago. John Starks' scintillating shooting display against the Rockets in '94? No conspiracy, however deep, could overcome that vestige of inaccuracy.
Getting down to the other three, is it possible that the quality of players had anything to do with their Finals appearances and resulting titles? Magic Johnson, Michael Jordan, Hakeem Olajuwon and the duo of Kobe and Shaq would probably have been able to win a ring or two in another city. MJ is MJ in Chicago or Portland or Miami or whenever (and no, comeback-number-two MJ doesn't count). Magic makes everyone better no matter where he plays and the Dream Shake leaves David Robinson crying and three-point shooters open from Orlando to Seattle. That's not even mentioning Kareem, Moses, Big-Game James or Scottie. Coaching? Pat Riley and Phil Jackson, both undoubtedly among the game's all-time greats. This is just a waste of time.
Logic like that is why this guy (I didn't get the name) is hosting the 10 p.m.-1 a.m. slot on Memorial Day.
Padres lost 7-1 tonight, dropping them back into a first-place tie with the boys in blue. When a guy named Puffer comes out of the bullpen and allows three runs in his one inning of work (bringing his ERA to a robust 6.10), you're not going to win. The 4-5-6 spots going 1-for-10 didn't help much either, I suppose.
Amazing how one phone call can make an entire day. An entire week, for that matter. I'm still smiling.
Editing youth baseball stories is pretty much my kryptonite. I feel weak. I look forward to this part of Monday night about as much as I'm looking forward to a dental assistant jamming her scalpels or whatever into my gums over and over on Wednesday morning and telling me that my lack of flossing is why I'm bleeding so much. No ma'am, I'm bleeding because you've been stabbing me repeatedly for the last half hour. I don't bleed when I brush at home, thanks.
On that note, bedtime beckons. Dark week at work so I'll get to work on a few fun projects the next couple days--NHL playoff rollout, MLB All-Star game great moments, Lakers stuff--good times.

Sunshine

"Well, I'll push the clouds away
So you can have sunshine
I'll give you anything that your heart desires"
--All, Collective Soul

Man I miss that band. They made "Seven Year Itch" about seven years ago (or so it seems) and haven't released a good new album since Dosage. Ross Childress out as lead guitarist and nobody else in? Ed Roland was so prolific for so long, I guess he's finally dried up as far as creativity and lyrics go. Oh well.
Today is absolutely gorgeous. If I weren't already so burned, I'd be outside right now instead of typing more on this thing, but my skin being what it is, inside is better in the long run.
I just saw that Derek Fisher is questionable for tonight's Laker game with a sprained knee, which actually worries me a bit. Even if Sam Cassell isn't playing, the point guard matchups have not been favorable to GP, and Fish coming off the bench to hit some shots and play some hard-nosed defense has been huge for our boys. If he's not able to go, Shaq and Kobe need to go for like 35 apiece or we'll have an Eastern Conference game on our hands.
Just watched the end of "The Fugitive" and couldn't think of a line from that for Side's movie game. Watched "The Rock" in its entirety on Saturday and that was an easier kill: Connery's immortal "Welcome to the rock" utterance.
Got to play some NASCAR (finished top five at Daytona to open up the new season) as well as some Halo with Charlie, which was a wonderful blast from the past--memories of eating hot pockets and bombing on aliens on the legendary level pretty much every day when I didn't really have a job for a while there in the Fairmount house. My job is pretty wonderful--I actually can't think of a better one offhand--but it does mean I can't just sit around and play video games all day. I suppose that's what weekends--especially those of the three-day variety--are for.
Gonna go read ("A Prayer for Owen Meany" by John Irving) for a while, play some guitar (probably Collective Soul, now that I'm in that reflective mood) and then head up to LC for birthday barbecue with Michael. Such a great day.

The Aftermath

"This is the millenium of Aftermath,
It ain't gonna be nothin after that"
--Forgot About Dre, Dr. Dre

Sunday was a lovely day--church in the morning, reading and guitar (learning some Toad), then the beach all afternoon (I'm quite red as a result, unfortunately). Phil was hosting a huge Memorial Weekend Beirut tournament, the likes of which our poor neighborhood had definitely never seen. I hung out for a while then headed up to Perrault's house in Westchester for a little barbecue and various activities. Turns out I might be writing some sports content for a website Kevin and Lars are developing, which should be a cool thing. Also teamed with Lars to beat Kevin and Kevin at ping pong, two out of three--solid effort.
Got home from there around midnight and I can't begin to describe the carnage left in the tournament's wake (this is the basis for the aftermath reference, if that was heretofore unclear). I took some pictures so the wasteland would be preserved in some form for posterity, because it truly had to be seen to be believed. Kegs, cups, chairs and other assorted items strewn across the backyard as if left there by a tornado or some other similar natural disaster. Wow.
Somehow managed to miss the Eastern Conference Finals (darn), which were replayed on ESPN late-night. Imagine a score like 83-65, that was really surprising to see. Neither team has even scored 90 points once in this series. It's pitiful. I'm not sure which is worse, Ron Artest's jumper right now or the combined jump-shooting prowess of Indiana's pass-first, please-don't-shoot point guard duo, Jamaal Tinsley and Anthony Johnson. Even when the Lakers advance today (and they will), it's going to be hard to watch the NBA Finals, knowing that an Eastern Conference team will be involved. So stinkin' ugly.
Missed the Indy 500 too, which hasn't captured me like NASCAR. Maybe it'll take some pit passes and a luxury suite at one of those IRL races to get me on that bandwagon. For now, it's Junior and the neck-car circuit that have my attention. Jimmie Johnson (not Jimmy Johnson) was on the pole and won the Coca-Cola 600, narrowing Junior's lead atop the overall Nextel Cup Series standings. People who have yet to experience NASCAR need to give it a shot. I knocked it until I tried it, and Side and I have been converted for life.
The Padres (or the Fathers, as Venouziou puts it) won again yesterday, maintaining their one-game lead over the Dodgers and keeping a cushion on the streaking Giants. He didn't play yesterday, but people need to do to Barry Bonds what Jack McKeon did a few weeks ago: four intentional walks in four plate appearances. Occasionally Pedro Feliz or Edgardo Alfonzo are going to make you pay, but I'm fairly certain that their "occasionally" would be far outweighed by Bonds' absurd .616 on-base percentage. Don't ever pitch to that guy--my boy Jake Peavy got away with it once and struck him out looking (walked him the other two times up), but he could afford to with rather substantial lead.
Memorial Day baseball (and xbox) all day, barbecue in LC and Lake Show tonight. Peace.