Bobcats Thoughts, 2/29

Riding the subway over to MSG on Wednesday night, I was suddenly seized with panic. It occurred to me that by seeing the game live, I’d be missing out on the inane television commentary, which tends to account for 50% of my jokes (bizarre and/or unintentionally hilarious post-game comments and Jeff McInnis comprise the other 30% and 20%, respectively). Fortunately, former Bobcat/Piston Primoz Brezec came to the rescue by giving a Toronto paper a candid yet insanely distorted view of his legacy in Charlotte. Brezec’s account of his time here is almost 100% inaccurate; you could say it’s "exactly inexact." From the opening observation that Sam Vincent wants to be more “run-in-gun” (by playing Jeff McInnis for 30+ minutes?) to just two sentences later, when he claims he can “run for 3 days” (this guy missed practically half the season last year from “exhaustion”), Primoz delivers the most remarkably false piece of commentary I think I’ve ever heard. Anyway, thanks, Primoz! I hope you find success with the Raps, and that you get more than just garbage time. Because that’s not you, man. That is not you.

As for the Knicks game, I shelled out 120 bones for the affair, which in NYC translates to “nosebleeds.” I was pretty disappointed with the quality of the seating, to say the least. For $120, I expect to be close enough to get splashed when Zach Randolph throws a water bottle at one of his teammates. Instead, I was so high up that the only object visible was Jamal Crawford’s shoulder bandage. Funniest of all was when Earl Boykins matched up with Nate Robinson—it just looked like a ball dribbling by itself.

Too bad I wasn’t alone in not seeing Nate Robinson—Jason Richardson failed to see him just before getting his eyes gouged out by him. Things went south almost immediately, as the Knicks rattled off 15 straight points to close out the half. I’d love to get worked up with outrage and spew forth vitriol over this latest embarrassment. And sure, at one point we trailed by 30 to the Knicks, but I’m a firm believer that if you’re going to go on a rampage, you need to have a target. And who am I going to blame for this? Jermareo Davidson for not getting a triple-double? Jared Dudley for not going for 20-and-10? Matt Carroll for not willing the team to victory like Kevin Garnett? I mean, look who we were playing out there.

The Knicks weren’t exactly spellbinding either. In fact, as I looked around at the faces on the crowd, everyone seemed slightly uncomfortable and embarrassed to be there, watching this dreck. It looked like 15,000 people who’d simultaneously been watching porn flicks just had their mothers barge in. David Lee hustled beautifully but only scored 4 points (I finally figured out what Lee looks like, by the way: he looks like what would happen if you combined BOTH guys from the movie Superbad into one person). Quentin Richardson had 17 and 6, but continues to play like the sole representative of an unnamed third team on the court (emphasized by his decision to wear jet black headbands, sleeves, and pads, which match nothing on his uniform). In general, it wasn’t just a bad game, but a sad game.

Saddest of all is that we could have used a win before going to Boston tonight, because I’d bet a front-row seat at MSG that we’re not winning this one. If you’ll recall, not only did we win against them last time, but Raymond Felton made the ill-advised decision of getting in Kevin Garnett’s face at the end. Garnett’s already bloodthirsty on a normal day, so ticking him off is kind of like ticking off Hannibal Lecter. We don’t want this kind of heat...