Seven Starter Army

Oooooh O-Oh uh ohhh ohhhhhh ohhhhhh



I can't get that opening acid guitar line out of my mind after last night's game. The Suns brought the chant back from their European tour last preseason, and it's been stuck in my head ever since. And, like that groove, so have visions of a championship.

Really. I get these flashes in my mind -- almost like deja vu. I've been here before, and I have seen what is about to happen. Steve Nash raising his fists in triumph as the court is flooded with players, personnel, and camera crews. Smiling ear to ear as his team mates crowd him in euphoric celebration. I see Amare with a 2007 NBA Champion hat tilted sideways on his head as he looks dazed in the spotlight. Marion is congratulating each of his team mates individually, finally able to let loose the cocky persona often hidden from public view.

The Suns are the champions.

Anyway...enough about my psychotic hallucinations.

I wanted to write last night after the game, but I was just too exhausted to sit up. After watching such an incredible performance by the Suns, I was just drained. It didn't help that I had only gotten four hours of sleep the night before. I accidentally fell asleep on the couch after watching the replay of Sunday's game one on a network which I will not name.

I don't know. It must have been between 2:30 and 3:00 in the morning when I checked out of consciousness. I would have been fine if not for the damn dog sticking his nose in my face and whimpering for a bathroom break at 5:00 a.m. It is not my responsibility to walk him in the mornings, and he's lucky I even let him back in after he does his deed in the back yard. I'm not sure how it started, but he somehow found reasoning in the rise of the morning sun. As soon as the first light breaks through the window, he thinks it's time for his daily constitutional around the neighborhood. Listen closely, Simba -- it is NOT MY JOB!

He does it again at 6:00 and then again at 7:00, and I had given up on sleep. The smart thing would have been to get my lazy ass up and go to bed, but I'm not the brightest of bulbs in the early mornings. So I sat up and thought about writing something to get everyone pumped up for the game, but I just never got around to it. I managed to catch a power nap before the game, but the sustained rush of utterly obliterating the Lakers proved to be too great a drain to overcome.

It's too bad, too, because I was thinking of some great stuff to write last night. When I'm that inspired, I'm a writing machine. But when I'm that tired...forget it. The brain may still be working, but the body will punch an early time clock. So I made a few mental notes, wrote up a draft in my brain, then filed it under "Will Do Tomorrow". So here we are, and I don't know where to begin.

A few notes on last night's game...

The Good: Everything. I'll go ahead and single out the Suns' defense, though, because it was as good as we have ever seen it. Amare and Junior were blocking just about everything, Shawn would not let Kobe get an inch of open space to shoot, and everyone was focusing on their assignments. When the Suns rotate and help each other out, they are one of the best defensive teams in the league. They just don't get the credit for it because, let's face it, it is not often that they put forth the necessary effort to prove it to anyone on a consistent basis. That's fine by me, though. It gives them room to pull an Ali and shock the world.

Note: I found the Suns' theme song for their defense. You can watch the video here, but it's probably just best to let the song play in the background. It has too much of an 80s hair metal look, even though the song itself isn't nearly that hard.

Say we'll never get anywhere
Well, they don't care
It's just not fair
But you know, and I know better

I think that encapsulates the feelings of the Suns, as Mike D'Antoni said after game one, "We've said it a thousand million times." No one listened. Now they know better.

The Bad: Everything good about the Suns was bad about the Lakers. The Suns scored at will on the Lakers' overrated and overstated defense, and Los Angeles could barely get off a clean shot in the face of a Suns defense that was even stingier than Charles Barkley guarding a box of Krispy Kremes.

The Ugly: I don't care how hated a player is, even if we have every reason to hate him, there is no excuse for fans booing Kobe as he lay fetal in the lane after hurting his ankle. Yes, it was his own fault for jumping in front of the lightning-quick Brazilian sensation, but injuries are not material for the boo birds. Those cat calls were better served for Lamar Odom's hard foul/bear hug on Steve Nash. I don't care how frustrated you are, Lamar, you don't put another player at risk of injury. That's just poor sportsmanship. You're a professional...act like one. Take your beat down like a man, and save the rough stuff for a guy who deserves it. Maybe start with your own team -- Kwame Brown comes to mind.

After reading everything available about game two, there really isn't much else to say. I said this on azcentral last night after the game, and Scott Bordow over at the East Valley Tribune echoed the sentiment -- the NBA needs to consider instituting the Mercy Rule on this series before anyone else gets hurt or humiliated. The Lakers don't even belong here, so why risk any ankles, shoulders, or egos getting bruised to the point of disrepair?

Let's hope that our Suns invoke the rule themselves and end this series quickly. Put Kobe and Phil out of their collective misery, and get on with life. Playoff rest is almost sacred when making a push for a championship, so we may as well end it all in Los Angeles in time to make it home for a Sunday evening barbecue. Don't let Kwame keep sticking his nose in your faces, whimpering like a spoiled pup who can't hold his own urine for two hours. Wrap it up, and bring it home.