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Gobsmacked: What If Your Team Ends Up Sucking?

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Gobsmacked: What If Your Team Ends Up Sucking?
(Photo by Ethan Miller/Getty Images)

Your GM has shored up the bench. He's traded for that potential All-Star and gotten the okie dokie from the ESPN Gods. Life couldn't be better.  Right?

And in the light of day you throw down every gauntlet you can.  Somebody questions any of those moves you call the upstart an idiot.  You ask questions about what their Mother bred with to make them, or whether they were dropped on their head during the All-Star Game. 

You say that not only is your team going break the Bulls record, each member of your team is actually getting invited to MJ's house for beer and cookies. But they aren't listening.  They keep trying to make you look at some far fetched bit of minute detail.  Blah blah this and blah blah that.

The rhetoric gets vitriolic, spitting bile with the comments flying back and forth.  It's a competition to see who can use more exclamation marks.  You can't wait to jump on every ridiculous and unfounded thing that idiot says because...

...everything they're saying is your greatest fear. 

We don't want to hear it, but there is no team in the NBA that couldn't suck this year.  And by suck I mean play far below expectation.  The Lakers look good to repeat this year, but do they even get past the first round of the playoffs without Kobe?  I dare say not.  They are one meniscus tear, or hamstring hernia (I don't know) away from possibly not even making the post season.  (You could argue that they'd still sneak in with everything they have).

Balance of power is indeed a delicate thing.  But you wouldn't know it right now with how people are talking about their teams.  I've seen more one-eyed, faith over fact predictions this last month because...well, it is after all, the crazy season.  That all encompassing, mind numbing silence before the storm.  It's almost like we all believe that before the actual sweat and blood is spilled, that a little mindless optimism couldn't hurt. 

Any time I feel tempted to do that, I remember times when I did that and brought on bad b-ball Karma.  That's right!  Like last year when my Raps looked good and because I got on some kind of high horse and screamed from Mount Olympus..."FROM THE POWER OF GREYSKULL I COMMAND YOU!!!", that Death from that Family Guy show came out and kicked Jermaine O'Neal, Jose Calderon and CB4 in their collective Basketball jewels and we sucked!

Now I'm not saying that the Raps were expected to be great last year, but everybody thought the front court of O'Neal and Bosh would dominate.  So much so that our front office gutted the bench.  Yeah, that was a good idea.  I mean it's not like anybody gets hurt in this game.  A little iodine and a Holly Hobby band aid and you can shove them right back on the floor.

So, there it is, it's my fault that the Raps sucked so bad last year.  It was me burning up the phone lines telling my Dad that they were gonna make some noise in the playoffs.  They finally had someone that could bang with the bigger centers in the league.  And with Bargnani playing a little three, they would be the match up nightmare no team could contend with.  Man, it was like calling Mother Nature a b*tch and then wondering why my house got smashed by a tornado.

So knowing this, I make a plea to all of you huge homers out there (and you know who you are).  Stop now! While you still can!  Don't be the reason that your team engenders a string of bizarre and unrelated accidents. 

Don't be the mouthy fool that causes Dwight Howard to trip and lose an eye on a little girls ice cream cone. 

Don't be the squealy dude who causes Paul Pierce's headband to catch on a nail, giving him a lobotomy. 

Or the girl who gets Kobe caught by his wife with the whole cheerleading squad.  She borrows the Slap Chop from Vincent Shlomi and...you just don't want to know.

I'm begging you.  Stop now, before it's too late.  Don't be like me.  The guy who walks around his own city with a tightly drawn hoodie, hoping that nobody sees me and dribble penetrates me with a knife in the alleyway.

But you know, I still got to say, the Raps are looking pretty sweet this year.  Oh yeah, baby!

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