A word about Father's Day in a minute. First, a quick note on last night's Game 2 (with the admission that I was in a sports bar where the DirecTV conked out in the final minute, so I had to go back and watch highlights and YouTube clips to see the relevant plays after the fact):
Shots miss. Even for Kevin Durant. He got a good look -- the kind of look he regularly makes. He didn't. Even the best perimeter players only shoot 50% or so. And Durant was only guarded by the one of the best defenders in the league, LeBron James. Speaking of which...
Fouls go uncalled. Particularly on superstars (or superduperstars). Did LeBron foul Durant? Probably. Should it have been called? Probably. Is it worth freaking out about? No. Durant moved past it, and so should everyone else. And that's because...
The Thunder lost the game in its first minutes, not its final seconds. The Thunder wouldn't have put Durant in that position at the end of the game if they hadn't gotten behind 40-2* in the game's first few minutes (* - it sure felt that wide). Start stronger, win the game. The Thunder's "slow start" schtick finally nicked them, at the worst possible time.
But I'll echo Simmons on Twitter last night: If you believe in the old maxim that it's not a series until the road team wins a game, we now have a series.
Check out Quickish's NBA stream for really good recs of the a.m.'s best NBA Finals reads.
This weekend is Father's Day. Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there. I don't ask for gifts or cards or breakfast or anything like that -- being a dad is my favorite thing in the world, and that is enough. This year I'm triply blessed to be Lucy's dad, too.
Two good friends were generous enough to offer us tickets to the Nationals-Yankees game on Saturday -- the hottest ticket in town (and, arguably, the most exciting game in the history of the Nats franchise in DC and one of the most exciting games this city has seen in a decade).
Taking Mrs. Quickie and the kids to the game is the best possible Father's Day weekend gift. The boys both have "curly-W" Nats hats and I'm sure I'll make it to the sporting-goods store in the next 24 hours to get them Bryce Harper shirseys.
The irony is that Gabe is just old enough to have picked up a kernel of Yankees fandom from living in New York. I'm not sure I can stomach getting him a Derek Jeter jersey that he really wants (but I ended up getting him his first baseball glove, a signed Jeter model, naturally).
I'm not one to influence the kids' rooting interests, but I'm hoping that the scene at Nats Park tomorrow is a seminal one for them -- crazy Nats fans, celebrating a first-place position, against the most storied franchise in sports. This might be the tipping point that turns them into Nats fans.
How much fun will that be to watch?
Happy father's day to all the dads. If it's an option, call yours.