i'm still recovering.
and i'm not sure the knuckle on my right pointer finger will ever recover.
for every minute after the first half of that game last night (during which, i allowed myself to get fairly cocky, i must admit. shooting at 69 percent?! i mean, seriously people), i was chewing on the second joint on that finger, and i think there are still teeth marks.
that's 29 minutes of gnawing, not including commercials, shots from the stripe and timeouts.
after the first half, landon refused to high-five me anymore for great plays. he waved me off saying, "no, no...not until the game is over." i pouted for a moment. said, "fine. i don't want to high-five you even when it IS over.
but i did. of course i did.
anyway. it was fabulous. dirk was fabulous. jet was fabulous. how about winning decisively in overtime with three guys fouled out? i said to landon, "if three guys fouled out for san antonio, they'd be screwed." as it was, they had their best three and everyone else available and we ROCKED them in overtime.
oh, lord. i'm so excited.
if i never again see duncan's big, bug eyes and long, flappy arms when he thinks he deserved a whistle, it will be too soon.
so it's on to the western conference finals and the phoenix suns. let's just go ahead and make a run of stomping all the guys who left dallas to pursue a championship. we're just gonna blow right by with hardly time to wave on our way to the trophy.
what!!!
to further set the scene, doc slept like a baby (well, he is a baby, but you know what i mean) during the whole thing.
he just doesn't get it. he just doesn't get it.
go mavs. freakin go mavs, man.
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