SPURS – BALZERS GAME 3. A VIEW FROM ITALY

Ciao a tutti.

Being a fan is a tough job.

You wake up at 4:30 a.m., make coffee, watch the Lakers steal the game from the idiot Rockets, and then watch the Spurs, filled with fear for what might happen.

You watch Avdija make what seemed like an endless string of free throws, wondering how the referees fall for his tricks every time.

You watch Jrue Holiday show you why he’s one of the most underrated yet most impactful players in the NBA on both ends of the court.

You watch Williams III, who you thought was a permanent fixture in some orthopedic ward, dunk and block everything that moves around the rim.

And, along with all this, you see our boys resisting everything, sitting on the shoulders of Luke Kornet and pushed by Castle, who, in his second year (and, we often forget this), takes on responsibilities he shouldn’t (yet) have, even from 3-point range.

You see Fox dealing with the aforementioned Avdija, making life difficult for him and getting fouled.

And yet, in the third quarter, it simply seemed like the Blazers had broken the barriers and that our boys could no longer resist with their small starting lineups, with Vince Kobe Carter Bryant, who, despite flying around, couldn’t plug all the holes. Holiday was too tough, Clingan too big, Avdija too clever. The Spurs, bleeding, as often happens in basketball games, seemed unable to stop the bleeding that was sapping them of their necessary strength. The game never developed as it should have: the Blazers’ defense strangled our players, preventing them from seeing a solution beyond their outstretched arms.

In my living room, while my little town still slept, I was ready to give up. Why not, after all? Who would make me sit here and suffer through a basketball game?

We had every excuse: we were away from home, coming off a loss, and Victor wasn’t here…

It also seemed like nothing was going to work. I almost wanted to start cleaning the house just to have something to do and not have to think too much.

I was stupid, I admit. Stupid because these guys had no intention of doing what I did: they were there to stay in the game, despite everything.

They did everything in the best way possible: one step at a time. They fixed everything, piece by piece. They fixed the defense, grabbed rebounds, and started scoring.

KJ, beloved KJ, hit a blistering three-pointer after another game of extreme offensive fatigue. Fox hit a shot in the paint. Carter decided we couldn’t help but love him. Harper made me scream. I screamed like a fool around the house watching Candace Parker, in her flashy pink dress, gawk at D-Wade after Dylan’s dunk over Williams III.

Everyone’s been through tough times, I imagine, including 1995, 2013, and 2018. We can even put this game in there.

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