Last night was one of the best bouts of insomnia I’ve ever had. Even though I had to chug a keg of coffee with a Scarface-sized pile of Splenda to get me going this morning, it was all worth it. That’s how psyched I was to see the Bobcats take out the Boston Celtics. I know, I know, the Celtics were playing the second game of a back-to-back, their game the night before had gone to triple-OT, they were already down Rajon Rondo, Jared Sullinger, and eventually Leandro Barbosa, etc., so I shouldn’t exactly be doodling bumblebees while whistling the theme to The Partridge Family. In fact, the Bobcats are like a 1986 Nintendo game in that you can always beat them straight up, so the only way to make it challenging is to start upping the degree of difficulty, (e.g., beating Kung Fu by only limiting yourself to jump-kicks). And in this case, the Celtics finally just had too few options to beat the Mr. X Bobcats. I don’t care about any of that; I’m still joyful. I’m about to lose control and I think I like it.
After all, we didn’t just beat the Celtics, we stopped their 7-game winning streak. That’s right, like the Pope, the Celtics are suddenly fallible again. Boston’s perfect record since Rondo went down was probably more incidental than anything else, because they’re probably a 7th or 8th seed at best this year. Now that I think about it, doesn’t it feel like their decline has been going on for years? It actually feels like it’s lasted longer than their prime at this point—they’re like the Roman Empire. Or Vince Carter. But anyway, they’ve given the Bobcats more fits than a Nordstrom’s clerk on crank through the years, so we should savor every victory we can get.
And actually, even before the game I was happy, because I knew I’d be able to have the home announcers call it. For all displaced North Carolinians watching the Bobcats on League Pass, there’s no better sight than this one:
It means you have your choice for announcers, and when the alternative is Tommy Heinsohn, there’s no putting a value on that. I’m just hoping I’ll have a choice when we play the C’s yet another two times this year (boy, can I not wait for that), because I would frankly rather watch airlines merge than deal with Heinsohn.
For the game itself, of course Byron Mullens was the hero. He was more lights-out than the Superdome, shooting 10-for-16 and 4-of-5 from 3-point land, plus he grabbed an astonishing 18 boards. Make no mistake: his defense is still the stuff of nightmares. In fact, I’d been intentionally putting it off, but I went ahead and looked at some of the numbers, and great Caesar’s ghost was THAT a bad move (I don’t know why I couldn’t have just left well enough alone. If I were in a slasher movie, I’d be the kid who finds the severed head floating in the toilet and decides that rather than calling the cops, I should investigate the rest of the house on my own). Did you know that opposing forwards are averaging a 19.8 PER against him? And guess what it is for opposing centers? Sorry, I don’t even know what you said but I know it’s way off. It’s 32.5! I didn’t even know PER could go that high! Do you know who averaged 32.5 for a season? Nobody! Even Wilt Chamberlain at his 1962 groupie-est topped out 31.8
Never mind, I’m happy. I’m REALLY happy! I’m Larry Craig in an airport men’s room after my wide stance has been acknowledged-happy. The Bobcats put the Celtics away like toys on the floor, and we get another 24 hours to savor it…before the Cats head to Indiana and probably get torn limb from limb and stuffed in a woodchipper. Enjoy!
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