The Romance Is Over

When watching a game at a bar you don't always get to listen to the play-by-play and commentary by the analysts. Instead, you may be watching to the game you deemed 'too big to just watch at home' listening to the two guys next to you trying to figure out who the group is that sings the song playing on the jukebox.

When you close your eyes
And go to sleep
And it's down to the sound
Of a heartbeat
I can hear the things
That you're dreamin' about
When you open up your heart
And the truth comes out

Saturday night I hobbled out to a bar on U St. in Northwest DC in my blue 'away' Rasheed jersey. The hobbling was due to someone having stepped on my toe with a cleat in the soccer game I played earlier. It's either badly bruised or broken--not sure which at this point. The bar we went to features three different beers for $2/bottle from 10PM - 2AM Saturday night, which is inline with my new initiative of avoiding the $4 Miller Lites when I go out. This, in The District, is not an easy thing to accomplish, especially during the weekend.

You tell me that you want me
You tell me that you need me
You tell me that you love me
And I know that I'm right
'Cause I hear it in the night

I arrived at the start of the second half after watching the first at my home, ordered a $2 Harp, and locked into the game while Cleveland fans Detroit haters gave me shit. It was good natured, however, and the guy bought me and my girlfriend a beer when he left (easy to be generous when they're $2). First Pistons shot: Rasheed misses a three. Fuck. The third quarter, like many quarters that Pistons fans have become accustomed to, is painful to watch. Cleveland ends it up by a point but neither team scores twenty.

I hear the secrets that you keep

When you're talking in your sleep
I hear the secrets that you keep
When you're talking in your sleep

"Aw, shit, who the fuck is that? It was one of those bands with the big hair. Something like Loverboy, but not."

"The Romantics. It's The Romantics."(other guy looks it up on his cell phone)
"Shit, you're right. Fuckin' a."

Unlike game five, Lebron was not dominating and watching it I got the feeling that it was the Pistons game to lose. And losing the game seemed frighteningly likely, especially the way the third period went. It was the other Cavs that were hanging with the Pistons. The Cavs picked it up during the fourth quarter, led by the bombs from Daniel Gibson. The Pistons gave up 31 and only scored 16. It was painful to watch.

When you close your eyes

And you fall asleep
Everything about you is a mystery

When you watch a game at a bar with the juke box music on, you not only get to listen to the big hits from mostly forgotten eighties bands and the taunting from drunks that are happy that your team is losing, but you also get to form your own opinion about what you are witnessing. It's the same thing when you go to a game. For me, what happened to the Pistons Saturday night was what happens to less than great teams in crucial situations. They missed their shots. There were plenty of good looks. They just shot and missed. I don't particularly care why they missed them. I don't think that their head coach had anything to do with it. When a team gets in position to take open shots, and they miss them much more often than not when the other team is shooting the lights out...well, that's just going to happen sometimes.

What is unsettling about this series is how the Pistons were eliminated by losing four straight games after barely pulling out wins in the first two. More unsettling to me is how impossible it seems to say "We'll be back next year". Yeah, I know they have two 1st round draft picks, but I'm just sick of this team. I'm sick of the sixteen point quarters. I'm sick of Mason. I'm sick of Rasheed and his replica jersey I bought that comes down to my fucking knees. I'm sick of Rip's mask. Lindsey Hunter? Fucking retire, please. Webber? Thanks for coming out.

What would get me excited for next year would be a starting five with Prince, Hamilton, Billups with less than a max contract, and two new big men--preferably twenty-five years old or less, but even that bores the shit out of me right now. A few months ago I wrote about all of the sports going on and how it would be a challenging time of year to be a boyfriend. That time is now just about over. Sure, the Stanley Cup playoffs is going on and the NBA finals is about to start, but after that? Just like the Pistons, the exciting Spring sports season is just about dead.