Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Well, I was correct, there was heartbreak in the desert tonite, but it didn’t belong to the people of phoenix nor their native suns. The chill at the marrow belonged solely to the second class citizens of the greater los angeles area and one lone gunman on a small yet vastly populated island in the middle of the pacific ocean.

As I sit here at the twilight, nay, the sundown, of what was arguably the greatest season in los angeles clipper history (at least the second best season, of that no argument can be made, I was alive yet unaware of my environs for buffalo’s 1976 swing) I feel a profane mix of pride and hope tinged with a sadness reserved for opportunities missed. This was LA’s series to lose, and lose it they did. But you have to, despite the pain of the cliché, give credit to the suns, who simply refused to be outplayed tonite, hitting everything that was even remotely open, assisted in no small part by what seemed LA’s poorest defensive effort of the series.

It’s just baffling the degree of hesitation combined with defensive confusion that the clips exhibitied this evening, but I’ll leave such discussions to the experts. What I will say is that despite the feeling of horror and letdown I feel at this moment, this was a hell of a run, and an unexpected one at that. Gracias to dunleavy, cassell, brand, mobley, maggette, the whole damn team, every last one of you, down to the equipment manager and the executive chef, for putting on a hell of a show to the clipper faithful.

The bandwagon may have filled up, and some will stay & some will depart, but there are a core group of us out here, the clipper nation, as we seem to have been dubbed, and we are strong, and we are patient, and we are ecstatic that you have finally chosen to provide us with the product we have so illogically waited for.