Like milk, bad news spoils over time.
So let me just say this week’s column may have passed its expiration date. In fact, if these words were milk, they’d probably be curdled and chunky and waiting for some sap to open the lid and get a big whiff of nasty.
It’s not like there isn’t anything going on in sports. Cleveland and Golden State are on a collision course for a third straight NBA Finals matchup; the Stanley Cup playoffs are in full tilt; baseball is hitting its stride; and it’s Preakness weekend in Baltimore.
TBH, I’m just unable to sit and watch what’s going on. I’m smack dab in the middle of a Little League bender that has not only left me scarred, but bone-tired and passed out before any matchup gets good.
This may sound crusty, but how is anyone east of the Mississippi expected to hold a job and watch a series? Every single Western Conference Playoff game is scheduled to start at 9 p.m.
I don’t know about you, but come 9 o’clock, I’m either yelling at the kids to get to bed, reconsidering my decision to stop drinking, finally getting something to eat, or caught up in the latest nonsense coming out of D.C.
If the above is done, I’m laying on the couch, which basically means I’m done. Once my dogs get propped up on the cushion, I’ve got as much a chance of staying up as a prop plane has of making it through the Bermuda Triangle.
Seriously, why do people still travel through there? Is a few gallons of gas or a couple of hours of travel time really worth the trip to the Fourth Dimension?
Bottom line, I haven’t been able to sit and watch a game, so I’m left to get my sports from morning highlights, whatever my son gleans from the phone and, of course, the morning commute.
So I know a bit about the Warriors and Spurs bringing a new meaning to “breaking ankles” by having players intentionally stick out their foot so that a player taking a jump shot can land on it and literally break his ankle, or at least sprain it really bad.
It’s a disgusting practice that is less dangerous, but more gutless than pitchers throwing baseballs at an opposing batter.
I also realize Celtics guard Isaiah Thomas balling out through the death of his sister is as inspiring as the Spurs playoff machine is comforting, but it doesn’t take a binge session to know neither team has a snowball’s chance in Hades of making the finals.
Cleveland and Golden State are heads, shoulders and torsos above every other team in the NBA. The teams’ combined 18-0 playoff record has made the post season boring and as inevitable as a White House leak, but there is a bright side to the dominance.
Cavs-Warriors III will be must-see TV. Of course, each game will probably start right around midnight, which means I’ll probably have to break out the bed of nails to stay awake or learn how to see with my eyes closed.
If you have comments on this or anything to do with sports, contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org, or hit me up on Twitter @CTJibber.