With the trace of negativity on this board for our boys' chances in Game 7, I can't help but contain a need to write something. You won't recognize my username; I've rarely ever posted, (that usually happening right around draft and fre...
With the trace of negativity on this board for our boys' chances in Game 7, I can't help but contain a need to write something. You won't recognize my username; I've rarely ever posted, (that usually happening right around draft and free agency when there is talk of blowing my team up. And, oh, how I can't help the trepidation).
Yes, our boys are getting a little long in the tooth. And, as I've gone a few sleepless nights, these past several weeks (cant imagine way) I can't help but wonder what the future holds; my heart says Spurs, my head says the obnoxious ones. My own stalwart, steely confidence in my team has admittedly waned.
I've been around long enough to see Big Dave drafted, to curse Mr. Strickland for a blind over-the-head pass, to root MJ on for his first and then curse him for all the rest, to be privileged enough to play Avery Johnson in a game of HORSE long before he had become the Little General and had developed anything close to that jumper he hit to close out New York in'99 (I lost of course, my jumper was more deplorable even than his, but my cousin won). I was in the building when Barkley took the three over Big Dave. I rooted for Hakeem and Clyde in '95 just because the Spurs brought in the freakshow that was and is Dennis Rodman. If J.K. Rowling would have allowed an American to play the role of 'he who shall not be named,' the Worm would have had my vote, even if he has proved time and again, that any Joe in 99% of the human population would serve as a better thespian.
Sorry, I'll dispense with the Rodman rant.
I rooted for Karl and John against the Bulls, even after the massive elbow the near knocked the Admiral unconscious, but it was '97 of all years that made me a real Spurs fan. I watched every game believing that Monty Williams was going to become our next great star and that we were going to hold on to the Human Highlight film just long enough for Dave and Sean to get back so that we could win a championship. I never even once felt that, just maybe, we were tanking games on purpose to compete for a number one pick.
Yes, I know. I've never been accused of being a basketball IQ diamond in a bucket of cubic zirconia.
But since then, I've seen Tim Duncan. I don't think I need to say any more to make my point to anyone, but as I've already become a little long winded... Why not.
Karl Malone was the greatest power forward ever. I feel pretty confident saying that, though my experience doesn't extend far enough back to speak of those that came before The Round Mound and present-day zombie movie stand-in, Kevin Machale. He met Tim Duncan in the playoffs beat him once in '98, but not in '99. Suddenly and unapologetically, Timmeh became the new GOATPUFF, (thank you AS for perhaps the greatest acronym of all time).
Sadly, Timmeh could not repeat in 2000, though I dare say he would have if not for the knee. He didn't leave us either, though he had the chance to join all-star Grant Hill and budding starT-Mac somewhere else, nearer to South Beach, (take note, Mr. James of how to really become endeared to fans--true fans--and not just to fair-weather media minions; I'm sure true Miami fans exist, I just can't see them all behind the ...well, I digress).
We struck out in '01 and '02, building in both years the vast anticipation and exhilaration that would be 2003's western conference semis. David and Mr. Kevin Willis tag teamed the Shaq Monster while Timmeh, Tony, Manu, and, oh that guy that believed then and now that he was better than Manu Ginobili and then later Danny Green... What's his name? Never mind, who cares? The right guys won. (We miss you, Captain, in this series more than any other very likely, but I've a few four letter words saved up for you for not being capable of being a team player and joining us in this run. Somehow, I bet you're hurting over this more than most, and if not, hey, find a deep dark hole to crawl in. I hear the Bobcats might