He might suggest that James, on into his thirties and facing the cusp of declining abilities, might not have many if any more opportunities to hoist his teammate on his broad Midwestern shoulders, and fireman’s carry them to certify a reclamation for his beloved home, the City by the Lake that Caught Fire.
He would wonder if James, Chosen as he was in early age like some hoopster Siddartha, can transcend the middling talents of his current teammates against a foe with more spare parts than Team Penske on Memorial Day at Indy?
He would consider if James’ legendary run of Finals’ appearances will be enough to feed the grandiosity of the star’s desires, as well as the vision of those who anointed him when he was a relative babe?
He would again assess the wonder of James’ physicality, basketball acumen and hardwood intuitivity, but concede that, in a conversation James’ longs to be a part of — Who is the best baller ever? — his name might early on fall out of the discussion.
He might wonder, that hyperbolizer, about his own conjecture here presented, whether he could be over-analyzing the long term ramifications of tonight’s contest, whether his internal queries are but mental hula hoopery?
Then again . . .
* * * * *
Considering only the present, tonight’s tilt is similarly as huge for Golden State.
They look to erect a spotlighted neon sign beside their accomplishments of ’15 and ’16. They wish to interject themselves into another conversation, i.e. Which is the best team of all ever?
They have battered their opponent from the Heartland twice, at home, without really playing their best? Can the Warriors summon the intensity and quality of play displayed in dispatching OKC in Game Six of that series at the Chesapeake?
There are many questions to be answered.
* * * * *
Coming in it was noted that Cleveland, on a serious post season run, is a much better, and significantly healthier contingent than last year.
Kyrie Irving and Kevin Love are in uniform.1 Not LeBron’s running partners are living up to billing, or coming close to impersonations of Dwyane and Chris.
Where have you gone Andrew Wiggins?
Oh yeah, traded away for trundlefooted Love.
(Which is not to mention the story in an espn.com piece, which reported that Tom Izzo called Sparty alum and Cavs owner Dan Gilbert a few years back, and implored him to draft a forward named Draymond Green. Which advice billionaire biz guy Gilbert ignored.)
So, yeah, Cleveland is supposedly, allegedly, ostensibly better.
But so is Golden State. More assured, with a championship belt and 73 regular season pelts attached thereto. With the Splash Brothers hitting targets with so little ripple, they’ve been asked to try out for the U.S. Olympic Diving team. And, you know, more spare parts than the DuPont Square Pep Boys.
* * * * *
So, he who would hyperbolize, use up an English major’s semester of syllables and ampersands and deplete his cache of synonyms for this rumination, has to get back to basics.
Can Cleveland win Game Three?
The answer, of course they can.
Is it probably or maybe? Can they shore up their deplorable defense in a couple of days, under the tutelage of an over-matched coach, whose marionette strings are tangled?
If so, can they make it a series?
Is it probably or maybe or Nah, it ain’t gonna happen?
Tip Off’s at 9:00 EDT.
— Seedy K