You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Game 7.
It’s electric, like sticking your finger in a light socket while tap dancing in a bucket of water.
Game 7; it says hold on to your hat masked man cause this motha is about to curl your toes.
Game 7.
You could say balls to the wall, down to the wire, excitement at your disposal. Or you could just say, Game 7.
Game 7.
It rolls off the tongue like sauteed octopus.
It doesn’t matter whose playing, it doesn’t matter what sport is involved.
Game 7.
Need I say more? It has my juices flowing like a dog that hears the garage door open.
I was trying to explain this to my son the other day.
He’s an Xbox nerd and Game 7 in battlefield doesn’t exist.
I say “Hey boy. Take that head set off a minute. Quit sniping from a helicopter. Heat. Pacers. Game 7. The winner goes to the finals. the loser goes home.”
He stares at me.
“Game 7?”
I stare him down like a wolverine about to sharpen its claws. “Game 7!”
He pulls the trigger and snipes a bad guy.
He doesn’t get it.
Game 7: It is the game of games. It’s the one that people will tune in to watch, will talk about forever, will pay to see.
Tonight it’s Indiana at Heat.
It’s Lebron James chasing greatness, trying to impose his will on 5 other men.
It’s the returning champs, the team that won more games than any team this year, playing a mid western, small city team, that very few people knew about till they blasted the Knicks in the Eastern Conference semi-finals.
I’m rooting for the Heat. It makes the NBA more interesting. Lebron seems like a good guy, for a superstar. He is undoubtedly the best basketball player on the planet.
The guy is a tight end in the paint. He’s a quarterback on the fast break. He’s a magician in the air, and an artist around the rim.
If the Heat lose, then I’m out. it’s like Tiger Woods missing the cut. Don’t care where they golf or who is golfing. I’d rather watch college rugby.
Lebron and Game 7. That’s top billing. That’s Clooney and Pitt. It’s Newman and Redford. It’s Babe Ruth giving home run tips to Hank Aaron. that’s freaking hot.
Game 7. It’s like massaging nitroglycerin onto a hand grenade.
If the heat lose and the Pacers advance, the season is effectively over for me.
San Antonio vs Indiana.
Set the snooze alarm. Hold the ambien.
But that’s tomorrow’s headline.
Tonight it is the electricity of game 7.
Hold on to your ass everyone. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.
Life’s Crazy™