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viktor_haagThe Boston Celtics have arrived. Clearly, signing Garnett and Ray Allen as compadres for Paul Pierce has, to date, been an enormous success. Despite the Raptors' undeniably deep bench, the hometown Raps have staggered out of the gate, whereas the Celts (and the Magic) have clearly taken the Eastern conference by the throat.
Last night the Celts put a Wilbonian beat-down onto the sorry New York Knickerbockers. Beat. Down.
Toronto: if you think your Leafs are in turmoil, your Jays are in turmoil, or your Raptors are not perhaps playing up to expectation, then the New York Knicks are here to show you how bad it could be.
Please to remember: the current front office in New York is mostly made up of a guy who once made an ill-fated bid to purchase the Toronto Raptors.
As the days pass, and I watch the Raptors' maddeningly inconsistent play keep them at .500 while a Celtics team with three all-stars and a crowd of also-rans tear up the conference, I can at least thank heavens that things would be far, far worse if Thomas' mad chicken-scratchings on the back of a cocktail napkin had actually led him to successfully purchase our hometown team. Instead, he was practically dusted on the butt by the door on his way out of town.
To Mars Blackmon and all his pals, I must say, "We're so sorry; we know (a bit) how you must feel right now."
There but for the grace of God, etc, etc, etc.
Last night the Celts put a Wilbonian beat-down onto the sorry New York Knickerbockers. Beat. Down.
Toronto: if you think your Leafs are in turmoil, your Jays are in turmoil, or your Raptors are not perhaps playing up to expectation, then the New York Knicks are here to show you how bad it could be.
Please to remember: the current front office in New York is mostly made up of a guy who once made an ill-fated bid to purchase the Toronto Raptors.
As the days pass, and I watch the Raptors' maddeningly inconsistent play keep them at .500 while a Celtics team with three all-stars and a crowd of also-rans tear up the conference, I can at least thank heavens that things would be far, far worse if Thomas' mad chicken-scratchings on the back of a cocktail napkin had actually led him to successfully purchase our hometown team. Instead, he was practically dusted on the butt by the door on his way out of town.
To Mars Blackmon and all his pals, I must say, "We're so sorry; we know (a bit) how you must feel right now."
There but for the grace of God, etc, etc, etc.
