I knew this would happen. I just knew it. I almost blame myself. I knew that if we gave Ryan Karr one chance at the big time, his very own Sports Weekly back-page column, it would get to his head. Indeed, Ryan, stick to writing your Karr's Chronicles, and don't try to mess with the big boys. In an ill-advised effort to "one-up" Jordan and I, Ryan used his tiny corner of the Thursday edition of The Dartmouth to basically rewrite our column in his own words (not the first time he's done that) and call us out for not doing a good job with it. Let me give you some advice, Ryan: come up with your own topic and don't flatter yourself. We let you hang with the big boys for one week. Stop taking potshots at the all-stars from the kid's table.
Now that I have that out of the way, on to the topic at hand -- the two big sporting events of the weekend. The Boston Celtics took on the Chicago Bulls at home in game seven of the most exciting series in NBA playoff history, while history happened at the Kentucky Derby. Jordan got to go on a great adventure to the Bluegrass State to watch pretty women who wear large hats watch horses run around a track, and I went on a field trip of my own to the industrial center of southern Chicago. Although the plane ride home forced me to miss the final game of the Celtics-Bulls clash, I got frequent text message updates from my brother, and watched the entire game on TiVo afterwards (no commercials!). There is nothing like a game seven in Boston. The crowd was deafening. Even knowing the outcome of the game, I had goosebumps on my arms as I watched. After watching the game (and almost every minute of the entire series), I have a few thoughts.
I love Rajon Rondo.
What a player. He does all of the things that lead a team to victory. Whether it is averaging a triple-double for the series or punching Brad Miller in the face to keep him from making a game-winning finger roll (really Brad? You're seven feet tall and you're shooting a finger roll?), Rondo will get it done. I'd almost take him over Derrick Rose. Almost.
It's remarkable that the Celtics won, considering their front line.
With Garnett injured, the Bulls had three of the four best big men in the series. Noah and Miller are both better than Kendrick Perkins, and Tyrus Thomas is better than Glen Davis. I'm shuddering right now trying to imagine Glen Davis covering Dwight Howard in the next round. The Celtics also get no offense whatsoever from their inside players. They'll be lucky to score 10 points in the paint against the Magic. Where is Robert Parish when you need him?
Brian Scalabrine.
Each passing day, Scal looks more and more like Will Ferrell's character from "Semi-Pro" (2008). Also, Big Scal was on the court in the final minute of game seven, with Celtics holding on to a five-point lead. Somewhere, Karl Malone is crying.
All joking aside, Joakim Noah looks like a mutant.
But somehow, he has turned himself into a good NBA player. When is the last time a hustle player who can't shoot from outside of five feet could make anybody's roster? I don't get it either. Noah's heroics are giving the Tyler Hansbroughs of the world a ton of confidence.
Seven games, seven overtimes.
I wasn't as concerned with the legs of the guys actually on the floor for the overtime periods as I was for Kevin Garnett. I swear to God that guy is more likely to injure himself on the bench than he is on the court. He's got to settle down.
Stephon Marbury's game seven stat line.
Two points, one assist, zero fouls, zero turnovers. Whatever, I'll take it.
