Location: Evergreen Ave.
Personnel: Me, KT, GD, GG, Olive the cat
T-shirt: Golden State of Mind
This time we had our Champagne at the beginning of the game, in the form of mimosas. Mine was mostly juice, though, because I needed to be laser-focused for Game 7.
This despite the fact that after a wonderful Saturday I felt like I had achieved the sense of detachment that would allow me to accept any result. Asking for a fifth title in nine seasons is a bit greedy, after all; maybe the joy should go to some underprivileged town like, say, poor Sacramento — where the fans bring cowbells to the games because Phil Jackson once called it a “cowtown,” which it is, figuratively if not literally.
But I don’t decide these things. Steph does.
I said in the Game 5 post that I had run out of superlatives for him, and they haven’t invented any new ones in the meantime. I guess “Steph” is a superlative of its own at this point. Several times a game I just shake my head and say “Steph,” and everyone knows what I mean.
50 points is the most ever scored in an NBA Game 7, and though the final score looks a bit lopsided, the game was nip-and-tuck most of the way. Most of the Warriors were having off-nights except rock-solid Kevon Looney (21 Reb, 11 pts, 4 art, +25); Klay Thompson was an execrable 4-for-19, and Jordan Poole continued his slide back to G-league level. It didn’t matter. Steph decided that we were going to win this one, and we did.
Some people get annoyed when I use “we” vis-a-vis a professional sports team, but after 30 years of fandom I feel entitled to the pronoun. I lived through the years of Vonteego Cummings, Byron Houston, Bimbo Coles, Todd Fuller, Felton Spencer, Marc Jackson, Michael Pietrus, Žarko Čabarkapa… I could go on but this is giving me tsuris.
Anyway, yes, I have been more than amply compensated for all that by a decade of giddy success. And it’s all thanks to one man. Don’t get me wrong, I have at times called myself a Klaytheist; I think of Draymond as my own overachieving, incorrigible child; and I respect Steve Kerr enough to shush people when he comes on TV. But without Steph this is just another team. I jokingly call him My Personal Savior, but as far as basketball goes, that is no joke: He came along to deliver the Nation from purgatory, and for that we owe eternal gratitude both to [insert name of preferred deity here] and the Minnesota Timberwolves, who lest we forget selected two other point guards in the slots before Steph.
Obviously I’m in a reflective mood today, still a little high from what I witnessed on my TV yesterday afternoon. But the season goes on — tomorrow is Game 1 against the Lakers and LeBron James, and that’s going to be a whole thing unto itself. So rest is called for, maybe a little light cardio, and we’ll be back at it soon enough.
Todd Fuller has more upside than koMe Bryant, I said it then, I say it now