Too little, too late...

I was planning on penning a nice long piece on Dallas' Game 7 victory a couple of days ago. I was going to talk about how Dirk's season saving three point play was emblematic of the new Dirk. How his decision to attack the rim instead of settling for his (nearly) automatic fallaway in the waning seconds of Game 7 was a microcosm for the changes that Avery Johnson has spurred in Dirk's mental and physical approach to basketball (as is the 1-7 line that Dirk put up from behind the arc during the series). Unfortunately, the time has passed for such opining.

Earlier today, I was planning a putting together a little something on last night's fastbreak-until-you-puke Game 1 between the Suns and Mavs. More specifically, the odd phenomenon that somehow makes it next to impossible to bury Phoenix, regardless of time, score and any other number of factors that traditionally determine the way in which we perceive the flow of a playoff basketball game. You see, Phoenix had no business winning last night's game. Not after Raja Bell went down like he had been shot by one of Mark Cuban's blow dart snipers (Do you really believe he doesn't have them posted all over American Airlines Arena?). Certainly not when they were down 9 with four minutes left on the road and Shawn Marion hobbling all over the place like some three legged mutt. It's to the point now that you can't ever feel safe in turning off a Suns game if there are more than 5 minutes left in the fourth quarter and Mike D'antoni's mustache still has a couple of timeouts at it's disposal. For Pete's sake, I can't remember a team so capable of quickly erasing a lead since the salad days of Rock n' Jock Basketball when the Bricklayers and Violators were tossing up 25 point shots like they were about to be outlawed. Which, coincidentally, they were.

I was planning on doing all of these things. Unfortunately, as is par for the course around these parts, there's been some significant delays in the that have been brought on by those in postitons of power above me. These delays have left me sitting here in front of my monitor in a hostage like state, eagelry awaiting the arrival of some (surely) groundbreaking material in my Inbox. Will this issue be resolved before I leave the office this afternoon? I've been promised as such but you'll have to forgive me if my mood is significantly closer to "guarded skepticism" than, say "unwavering belief". Regardless of the result of this afternoon's project, rest assured that my mood will remain unaffected. And that's a good thing. It's kind of tough to work up a suitable amount of vitriol for any person or thing when you're sitting on the edge of a four day weekend. A four day weekend that's kicking off with a concert featuring one of your favorite musical acts at one of your favorite venues.

Tonight, I'll be traveling to Orlando with my old roomate Vitas to meet up with another of my former roomates, Berto, in order to take in People Under the Stairs. This evening's show will mark the first time that PUTS has ever played a show in the Sunshine State and, more importantly (to me at least), the first time that I've had the privilege of watching these guys hone their craft live on stage. To say that I'm excited about tonight's agenda would be a massive understatement. In fact, I'm not sure if it's possible for me to overstate just how psyched I am for this show. Not only are these guys some of the best around in the "underground hip hop" scene, but their relatively low profile and west coast home base make trips to the east side more than a little rare. The fact that this show happens to fall on the beginning a holiday weekend makes it all that much sweeter.

I'll be back Friday with some thoughts on tonight's game and a report from tonight's show. Have a good time at work.