The Slow Goodnight

The System failed them.

The System failed us.

It’s fitting, really. The very same system that brought us together let us down. Yeah, it might not be the exact same system; not as fluid, not the same. Still not familiar though, and still nostalgia-laden.

Where was the shooter in the corner? He’s always there. Joe, Q, Raja, anyone. Why wasn’t he there? How could that tenant of this offense fail them at that time?

And Nash. Poor, Steve Nash. Resigned to losing since The Trade. Couldn’t even muster an argument on the last turnover. KD said it best, “it’s like watching your Dad get beat up.” Where was the dribble-probing that makes this thing work? How could that disappear? How could he appear in all the wrong ways?

Three turnovers lost the game, but they didn’t lose The Game. The Game was lost in June. No way a guy with Kerr’s background (Duncan, MJ, Phil) meshes with a guy like D’Antoni. Couldn’t work. Didn’t work.

Now they’re stuck, right? Nash and Amare are back, sure. But so is Shaq. So is Boris, sometimes. (Is there any player in the league more emotionally distant but emotionally affected than he?) The bench is back, too. That disaster of a bench. The one that’ll continue to cost them legs and games and series.

The Architect is leaving, maybe to Chicago. That’d be something. The place where his antagonist made his name would be his new nest. It won’t be the same though. Nowhere will.

They were made for each other. They were made for us. Now, we all crumble.