When a lady accompanies me to a softball game on the evening of her birthday, she is in for a show. I don't know what got into me; it's like I was convinced that my gift of a macaroni necklace wasn't enough. I was a hitting, catching, throwing son of a gun out there last night, putting forth a performance that will certainly go on my posthumous Cody Powell Sportscentury episode. (Notice in that list, I didn't include running. In a span of three pitches, I narrowly missed getting pegged in the face while running to first, collided with the second basewoman, and then ran over our third base coach. I halfway expected my pants to split apart when I crossed home, but no luck there.) Somehow, we played so well that we actually had to invoke the mercy rule on the other team, as we were up by 15 runs. I can't help but think I inspired the whole team. They saw me and thought, "If that goofy bastard can do it, then we can all do it."
Okay, no one cares about softball. And perhaps no one cares about the NBA either, but I'd like to say that my beloved Dallas Mavericks are currently on a date with destiny, and destiny just pulled out the wine coolers and edible underwear. Right now, they're locked in a playoff series against the San Antonio Spurs, who've consistently beat the crap out of the Mavs over the past several years. This was particularly brutal for me to watch; I lived in San Antonio for a lot of that time. People there are absolute fanatics about that team; you could force most people there to choose between their firstborn or a sleepover with Ginobli, and they'd be rolling out the sleeping bags before could finish the sentence. To be surrounded by the enemy galled me, and what made it all the worse was how the Spurs would always, always pound the crap out of the Mavs.
Fast forward to 2006 and suddenly, things are a little different. By a little different, I mean that the Mavs are up 3-1 in their 7-game series with the Spurs, meaning they hold approximately a 0.75% chance of victory. I'd like to get cockier, but it's the Spurs. If I could make a prediction, it'd be that sometime in game 5, the people of San Antonio storm the court, decapitate Dirk Nowitzki, take Avery Johnson hostage, and give Tim Duncan some robot legs. That's a momentum shifter, you can't deny.
The Mavs will probably blow it; after following them for many years, they'd disappoint me a little if they didn't. If they do lose, then for the love of God, tell me the robot legs had something to do with it.
Posted by Cody at May 16, 2006 7:34 PM