It's Nut Cutting Time

Game 7 of the NBA Championship tomorrow. Both teams should be pumped and ready to go. The Warriors, surprisingly, are at a disadvantage with Andrew Bogut out and Andre Igudala suffering back pain and definitely not at his best. There ar only two answers for those two problems: Festus Ezeli and Harrison Barnes. Festus must guard the hell out of Tristan Thompson, and Harrison has to step up and play a strong all-around game. As a free agent, Harrison is asking the Warriors for big money; he must prove he's worth it. I've been in his corner since that fabulous power drive of his in his rookie year in the playoffs against the San Antonio Spurs. Wow, what potential, I thought. Now, I think that it's time for potential to become realized.

On the subject of refereeing which is the reason for league fines levied against Steve Kerr and Stephan Curry, there must be parity. If the refs are going to call "ticky-tacky" fouls against Curry, they must call LeBron for charging fouls when he bulls his way over the chests of players trying to guard him. LeBron is one of the strongest players, pound for pound, that ever played in this league. He does not need an advantage. Right now, the refereeing provides him with a distinct advantage.

Were it possible to influence the outcome of NBA games,the one sure way to do it would be through the calls referees make or not make. In today's game in which refereeing is a life's career, this is highly improbable, but not impossible. So here's a message to the refs for Sunday: it's the finals, no itsibitsy, teeny weeny touch fouls. Let the  players determine the outcome of the game. Keep the game under control and call the fouls even-handed. LeBron is not a KING. You do not have to bow down before his throne.

Although the following poem is about baseball, and in context might be considered a mixed metaphor, I think it qualifies as a message for all sports. 

Pastime    by Emilio De Grazia

A girl, nine years of wonder
Still on her face,
Stands directly on the bag at third
Turning amazed fingers along the wrinkles 
O my old leather mitt.
It is the bottom of the ninth
And everywhere in the world
The bases are loaded. 

It is the bottom of the ninth at Oracle tomorrow. All the Dubs have to do is bring her home.