Wednesday, June 19, 2013



click above to start the new series, 1 of 4, ectoplasm not required to click.

my collarbone story is as permanent as my tats stories...

now see, this is what i mean, the Spurs choking away their NBA Championship Rings last night is exactly what i mean.

in life, many times, more often than not, you have but ONE chance to make something happen, to achieve your dreams. the timelines work with one key at one hole at one location at one part of day for the rest of the years. you have to talk to a specific babe at this corner-shop coffee-shop in order to make the other connections which will allow you to sing on stage for a living and not starve. the Spurs expended all of their energy last night, they knew they had to win yesterday 'cause they weren't winning a Game 7 in Miami. Old Man Duncan stretched his dusty bones to the limit in the first half, the Spurs packed one day's worth of clothes, they wanted the trophy NOW. they were even wheeling out the championship celebration with minutes to go in the fourth quarter, the Heat "fans" were filing out because there were better parties elsewhere i guess and the handy traffic excuse. everybody and their grandmama knew the Spurs had this in the bag, but a couple of shaky free throws and Ginobili flailing away, swimming in costly blunders at the end, and the golden opportunity is missed.

the opportunity isn't just missed, it's forever gone, the Spurs are doomed, last night was their chance, their only chance, they made sure to play well so they could wrap it up, they will not win tomorrow in Game 7, you can book that, they are exhausted physically and spiritually, they are devastated beyond belief. imagine thinking you have something, you have obtained Excalibur, you picture the glorious sword in your hilt, you are touching it, but it is just a dream, the reality is that the Black Knight punked you, beat you over the head with Excalibur while you were daydreaming, and you are left with just your head above ground cartoon-style lamenting the fact that your dream was just that, a dream never rooted in reality. you are still the loser with no sword. so close, so fucking close.

that is my life.

the Spurs won't just lose Game 7 and the Finals and the championship that was there in their hands, they will wave the white flag, they will get destroyed by 30 points, it will be a laffer by Period 1's end. they will show signs of despair and grief, they will try to move to block and rebound, but their bodies will show externally what their internal psyches cannot bear to perceive but still do: they let it slip from their fingers, they couldn't grasp hard enough for a few more seconds.

the Spurs experienced something ghastly, horrible, and now they are haunted. you can see during their press conferences last night that they are haunted. they didn't even really try to cover it up, it was just too painful. sure, Coach Pop gave his reliably empty assertion that everything is okay, the team will simply rebound by getting back on that bus and playing another basketball game, but even the great legendary Coach Pop is being questioned today, his decisions are being challenged, something you could never imagine happening. as Trent Reznor puts it:

I'd listen to the words he'd say
But in his voice i heard decay

decay, that is all the spills out of the poor Spurs as they lean in to the microphone to try to explain their sadness. only i can see it, it physically manifests itself to me, it's a ghostly white trail that issues forth when Ginobili talks about the devastation, Duncan realizes that this is a difficult loss, Tony Parker laments that they were close to the 'chip. the words don't matter anymore, it's the heavy feelings which come out of their mouths, a straight line-drive mist which surveys the press corps then quietly ascends to the ceiling, the after-soul of humans, athletes striving with every cell but coming up short, of grand humans becoming bodies before the weight of failure, the decay of trying, trying, trying but not succeeding.


this is my life precisely.




phairhead said...

Stubble, huh? That's surprise

Kazi G said...

I prefer to see the glass half full. This will wound them, yes, and they'll fight harder next year. Haunting is reaerved for year-after-year failure despite great moments, such as the Red Sox experienced.

Taking it on the chin, eh? ;)


~Kazi xxx

Cheeky Minx said...

Oh, the stubble... Have I mentioned I'm a very easy mark for a man with a beard?

the late phoenix said...

phair: i shave my head once a month, that's it, no other maintenance of the hair and beard the entire month.

kazi: curses are real, i've come to that conclusion, especially when it comes to sports and me.

cheeky: *pumping my fist*

the late phoenix said...

i tried reverse psychology on the Spurs. it almost worked. did you notice Tim Duncan's post-Game 7 news conference? he said Game 7 will haunt him...

Juliette said...

When you say Spurs I think Tottenham from The English premiership. It throws me.

Life has curve balls. ;)

the late phoenix said...

juli: i kinda think that, too, actually, i'm getting more into The Beautiful Game with the World Cup coming up. watching the Beautiful Game with a beautiful dame named Juliette...