Over the course of an 82-game NBA regular season, most games are pretty good. Sure, some are duds. But I like the run-of-the-mill game in the middle of the season. My standard post-game notebook is built for their incidental pleasures and random occurrences. For the match-ups and great plays and the glimpses of young players developing and colorful bits of in-arena action and other items not necessarily crucial to the course of a season.
But some games overwhelm all that. Some games you don’t even want to write about. You just want to wave your arms and point. Or turn into Chris Farley. Do you remember that Rudy Gay dunk? That was awesome. That Tony Parker three at the end of regulation? Oh man. What, you missed it? Your loss pal.
For three quarters and change, this was already at a playoff intensity. But it was controlled enough to savor the usual details.
There was Tony Allen, on his birthday, with his gas turned up. Moving with purpose and rare efficiency on both ends. Getting steals, getting in transition, quick to loose balls.
There was the great moment late in the first half where Allen came in for a defensive possession, immediately forced a turnover, gave his trademark “first down” signal, then went and sat back down. All in the game.
There was Marc Gasol and Tim Duncan, going at each other in a match-up of tough, skilled big men that feels like my own personal basketball heaven. Gasol blocked Duncan at the rim twice in one possession. He hit Duncan’s trademark bank shot over the master himself. He faced up on Duncan, drove right, spun left, and kissed the ball off glass yet again. And Duncan gave as good as he got.
