So this happened last night. Apparently Paul Pierce blew his knee out. Sprained meniscus was the word. But suddenly, taking a page out of Penny Marshall's book (insert Awakenings joke here), Paul Pierce wasn't hurt anymore. Did he realize that he looked like a sissy on national television (insert Dwayne Wade cry pic here)? Was it Brian "Mix-Tape Assassin" Scalabrine's breath? No, it was neither of these. The answer is, Christ loves Boston sports and saved Paul Pierce.
I know I know, I sound ridiculous, but I think it's true. I've read enough Bill Simmons to have seen this apocalypse coming. I don't know about you guys, but this Finals has been tough to sink my teeth into; sure I predicted this outcome, but do I like either of these teams? Sure don't. Are any of my NBA man-crushes participating? Sure aren't. So after simultaneously celebrating my wedding anniversary and Jor's foray into matrimonial bliss on Florida's gulf coast,
I wasn't particularly psyched about going back to everyday life, which included this seven game series. Either way, it's still going on and Boston still won last night, and Paul Pierce may be the reason for that.
After getting smashed by his own teammate (Kendrick don't!!!), collapsing to the ground, and hearing something pop, Pierce had to be carried off the floor by Brian Scalabrine (G.O.A.T.) and Tony Allen and taken out back for a Derby Salute, when Jesus touched his face and said,
So in summary, Round 1 goes to the Celts. I still stand behind my dish and say L.A.'s going to get on Kobe's shoulders and take this series. Don't be surprised next holiday season when you're looking at a nativity scene, and you notice one of the three wise men is wearing a green headband, a number 34 jersey, and throwing gang signs; Jesus loves Paul Pierce. Oh and congratulations NBA, I care now.