August Strindberg reporting from the field.
I had the pleasure of attending the Tuesday evening affair. The Raptors arrived from their northern homeland, hoarfrost still whitening their great beards, wrapped in furs and whale blubber. This once-proud tribe has fallen on hard times, relying on Bosh of the Long Neck and Rafer Alston skittering about like a devilish pixie. Even Pape Sow, the proud successor to Ousmane Cisse, has been unable to restore vim to their vigor. The Wizards' inevitable victory was, indeed, inevitable, and the hallowed hardwood was holy once again. Ah, but how the stars did shine! On the court, yes, but even brighter off. I refer first to David Aldridge, once one of our own, now the bespectacled sage of TNT as ESPN saw fit to do him in. I refer second, and third and forever, to the presence of Little Gita, Gheorghe Muresan, the last smiling remnant of the glory days, truly a man of the people, truly heavy in the pants. Joy rattled and shook the arena, a tremor felt even in the Dark Realm where rests a young Mase and the beloved soul of Charles Jones. Also, did you see that Gar Heard was ejected vs. Bobcats? Surely a Garbot programming error, alas, but a loss is ever guaranteed when Benson is at the helm.
Posted by August Strindberg, WizzNutzz intern & desirer o' death
