So here we are. The culmination of another long, long NBA season, one in which your Phoenix Suns did some spectacular things before this recent face plant in a giant pile of Sarver poop.
The NBA's two most "storied" franchises meet yet again in yet another Finals and have battled it out to take this series to seven games. I gotta tell you: this matchup may be storied, but it's one boring ass story and I'm tired of reading it.
Understandably, both Lakers and Celtics fans are super-giddy-excited about the possibility of a second championship in three years for their favoritest team. Congrats to the two teams and their fan bases and all of that.
We all know Emperor Stern shudders to himself in ecstasy at the very thought of this game and Tim Donaghy is heading over to his bookie's to place his bets, but I personally couldn't think of a less interesting end to the NBA season.
The NBA playoffs are already a relatively predictable affair given the lack of one-and-done games like the NCAA tourney or the NFL playoffs and a bracketed system designed to give the top teams every benefit of the doubt.
I don't mean to give the wrong impression, though: I like the NBA playoffs. I'm an NBA junkie and any chance to watch professional basketball is a good thing.
But maybe I'm still bitter about the Suns going down in the Western Conference Finals when it seemed so tangibly realistic that they might finally make it back to the Finals, 17 years after big Chuck led them there.
Maybe I'm still bitter about the fact that Pau Gasol was wrapped in some cute paper with a pretty bow on top and left at Mitch Kupchak's doorstep by a generous grizzly bear.
Maybe I'm still bitter that the Celtics transformed Kevin Garnett from a loyal, Midwestern all-around good guy into Douche-Tron 2000.
Blah. Go Celtics! I mean ... Go Lakers! Eh, who cares ... I've got an anxiety- and angst-filled Suns offseason to fret about.