So let me get this straight.
LeBron James gets clotheslined, or otherwise slammed hard to the floor. He stays on the ground for a minute, catches his breath, regroups, stands up and plays 45 minutes of basketball—just like every night.
For that, he gets criticized for being a crybaby, a drama queen.
Paul Pierce goes down. Two teammates pick him up and carry him off the floor. A wheelchair is brought out to send him to the locker room. Three minutes later, he’s running up and down the court as if nothing happened.
And now this is the greatest thing since Willis Reed. Really, the only thing that could have topped this would be if Barbaro magically healed to finish the Preakness two years ago.
Can someone explain this to me?
If LeBron was playing for New York or Boston, and Pierce on the Cavs or Pacers, would we be looking at this differently?
Look, if it turns out Pierce actually tore something in his knee, I’ll retract this whole thing; I will.
Until then, I could really care less about Pierce’s gallant return from such a “grievous” injury.
He played a great game tonight, nothing less—and certainly nothing more.
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