Forget Electric Avenue. This past month I’ve been rockin’ down to Bad Beat Street.
I don’t feel special or cursed. Everywhere I look I read about another player who is fully prepared to put out their anger on the nearest inanimate object to alleviate the pain of yet another 9th inning loss. Tis the season – for giving away your money, apparently.
Yes sir, it is that time of year where football is still but a twinkle in your wallet’s eye, and baseball’s bullpens have you headed the way of state ordered institutionalization. Why just this past week in various threads on SBR, I’ve witnessed posters wish horrible, horrible things upon David Ortiz, Jim Leyland, and three quarters of the Ray’s roster. I believe that even I might have had some choice words for Todd Jones. That’s humorous because A) Todd Jones doesn’t pitch anymore, and B) I never had money on the Tigers. Some wounds run deep. It’s a dirty game baby, and right now the game done got dirtier.
Throw in several bad beat finishes in the NBA playoffs, and you’re left with bedlam. Somebody needs to conduct a study on how much business picks up for TV and computer repair shops on the couple of days following a brutal bad beat.
Did the Celtics really lose by eight, when getting seven, when the score was tied with just under four minutes remaining? Did they really only score 13 in the 4th quarter? Did Paul Pierce, a career 80% free throw shooter really miss not one, but two freebies during that brutal drought? Did I really hear thousands of fists simultaneously smashing LCD’s and laptops that never really stood a chance? I think I did.
I was not one of those unfortunate souls, as I have kinda stayed away from the NBA since the end of April. That was when one of the greatest playoff games ever took place, and I didn’t get to enjoy it at all. Pretty sad, but such is the life. Oh, and for you Celtics backers the other night, Paul Pierce got me good on this one too.
I’m not generally too big into prop bets, but this one jumped out at me - Paul Pierce points/rebounds/assists o/u 32.5. “The Truth” had been having some relative success against the Bulls in this highly entertaining series, but he was beginning to look weary to me. I liked this play and I liked it a lot! When the first quarter ended and he had a solitary assist in his stat line, I was feeling pretty good. At halftime, it was even better. Forget Beat Street, I was strutting around like John Travolta on golden paved roads.
Then the game went to OT. I was still pretty safe. Then the game went to double OT. I began to sweat a bit. Then the game went to triple OT. The things that had to happen for that game to go into triple OT, well, I could explain Tom Cruise to you before I could make sense of this deluge of delirium. But even still, I had a shot towards the end. Pierce was sitting on a total of 32 and time was running out. Then he ran in for an uncontested offensive board. 22 points, 9 rebounds, 2 assists – total of 33. A half point prop loss in triple OT. Ouch.
That one hurt, but not nearly as much the Texas-Seattle game a week later. I jumped on the Under like it was a trampoline with a great body. Less than eight runs was what I needed to change my life around, make my parents proud of me, and regain my swagger. When the 9th inning ended, the score was 1-1. I was proud of myself. But my moxie was short lived, as my moxie wasn’t meant to be, and being a Bread winner was just an oxymoron.
Texas scored six highly improbable runs in the top of the 10th, all with two outs. God laughed at me when the 9-spot batter, Jarrod Saltalamacchia, capped off my pain with a grand slam. Oh hooray, my sure winner is now a push. Well I guess that’s better than a loss. Then Seattle drives one useless run across the plate in the bottom of the inning for a 9-2 final. Like there was ever any doubt. Brutal.
Do you remember the scene in ‘Braveheart’ when William Wallace discovers that he has been betrayed by his good friend Robert the Bruce? Do you recall the despondence in his eyes? His complete disconnect from anything that was real to escape the pain? That was me at that moment. Jarrod Saltalamacchia will forever by my Robert the Bruce. Plus, Robert the Bruce is just easier to say. Unreal.
At this point, I could be winning a game 20-0 with two outs in the 9th inning, and the Rapture could occur and I wouldn’t even bat an eye. It’s a block party on Bad Beat Street y’all and you’re invited. Although I would certainly recommend that you find another block party to attend.
A sense of normalcy has to return at some point. It simply must or my fingernails are going to be taken down a knuckle or two. There is an interesting UFC card coming out next weekend that might help me shake what’s ailing me. We shall see.
On a side note, sometimes some news reaches you that can make my Bad Beat Street visit seem petty in comparison. Basketball great Wayman Tisdale passed away on Friday from his battle with cancer. He was only 44. Tisdale was an NBA star back when I first became quite interested in sports. I was a fan of his game, and more importantly, his high top fade. By all accounts he was a super guy and wonderful family man. Last year doctors amputated his leg in hopes of ending his cancer threat. It didn’t work and now he is gone. But he kept smiling until the end.
I commend you Wayman Tisdale. You handled the ultimate bad beat with dignity and grace. Hopefully some can use this as an example to keep things in perspective. I know that I will.
I don’t feel special or cursed. Everywhere I look I read about another player who is fully prepared to put out their anger on the nearest inanimate object to alleviate the pain of yet another 9th inning loss. Tis the season – for giving away your money, apparently.
No right turns allowed
Throw in several bad beat finishes in the NBA playoffs, and you’re left with bedlam. Somebody needs to conduct a study on how much business picks up for TV and computer repair shops on the couple of days following a brutal bad beat.
Did the Celtics really lose by eight, when getting seven, when the score was tied with just under four minutes remaining? Did they really only score 13 in the 4th quarter? Did Paul Pierce, a career 80% free throw shooter really miss not one, but two freebies during that brutal drought? Did I really hear thousands of fists simultaneously smashing LCD’s and laptops that never really stood a chance? I think I did.
I was not one of those unfortunate souls, as I have kinda stayed away from the NBA since the end of April. That was when one of the greatest playoff games ever took place, and I didn’t get to enjoy it at all. Pretty sad, but such is the life. Oh, and for you Celtics backers the other night, Paul Pierce got me good on this one too.
I’m not generally too big into prop bets, but this one jumped out at me - Paul Pierce points/rebounds/assists o/u 32.5. “The Truth” had been having some relative success against the Bulls in this highly entertaining series, but he was beginning to look weary to me. I liked this play and I liked it a lot! When the first quarter ended and he had a solitary assist in his stat line, I was feeling pretty good. At halftime, it was even better. Forget Beat Street, I was strutting around like John Travolta on golden paved roads.
Then the game went to OT. I was still pretty safe. Then the game went to double OT. I began to sweat a bit. Then the game went to triple OT. The things that had to happen for that game to go into triple OT, well, I could explain Tom Cruise to you before I could make sense of this deluge of delirium. But even still, I had a shot towards the end. Pierce was sitting on a total of 32 and time was running out. Then he ran in for an uncontested offensive board. 22 points, 9 rebounds, 2 assists – total of 33. A half point prop loss in triple OT. Ouch.
That one hurt, but not nearly as much the Texas-Seattle game a week later. I jumped on the Under like it was a trampoline with a great body. Less than eight runs was what I needed to change my life around, make my parents proud of me, and regain my swagger. When the 9th inning ended, the score was 1-1. I was proud of myself. But my moxie was short lived, as my moxie wasn’t meant to be, and being a Bread winner was just an oxymoron.
Texas scored six highly improbable runs in the top of the 10th, all with two outs. God laughed at me when the 9-spot batter, Jarrod Saltalamacchia, capped off my pain with a grand slam. Oh hooray, my sure winner is now a push. Well I guess that’s better than a loss. Then Seattle drives one useless run across the plate in the bottom of the inning for a 9-2 final. Like there was ever any doubt. Brutal.
Do you remember the scene in ‘Braveheart’ when William Wallace discovers that he has been betrayed by his good friend Robert the Bruce? Do you recall the despondence in his eyes? His complete disconnect from anything that was real to escape the pain? That was me at that moment. Jarrod Saltalamacchia will forever by my Robert the Bruce. Plus, Robert the Bruce is just easier to say. Unreal.
Damn you Jarrod Saltalamacchia
A sense of normalcy has to return at some point. It simply must or my fingernails are going to be taken down a knuckle or two. There is an interesting UFC card coming out next weekend that might help me shake what’s ailing me. We shall see.
On a side note, sometimes some news reaches you that can make my Bad Beat Street visit seem petty in comparison. Basketball great Wayman Tisdale passed away on Friday from his battle with cancer. He was only 44. Tisdale was an NBA star back when I first became quite interested in sports. I was a fan of his game, and more importantly, his high top fade. By all accounts he was a super guy and wonderful family man. Last year doctors amputated his leg in hopes of ending his cancer threat. It didn’t work and now he is gone. But he kept smiling until the end.
I commend you Wayman Tisdale. You handled the ultimate bad beat with dignity and grace. Hopefully some can use this as an example to keep things in perspective. I know that I will.
RIP my friend
