No Quarter Given: Playing the Phoenix Suns

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No Quarter Given: Playing the Phoenix Suns
IconTick tock.

You’re an NBA team.

You’re in Phoenix to play the Suns, the most explosive club in the league.

The Suns have two-time MVP Steve Nash, the Matrix Shawn Marion, and reigning Sixth Man of the Year Leandro Barbosa—among others.

That’s okay, you think. We aren’t chumps. We have good players too.

Little did you know the timer started ticking as soon as you got off the plane.

Tick tock.

The first quarter starts and you’re feeling good—you like this run-and-gun tempo the Suns force everyone  to play.

Phoenix is shooting cold, and you’re up five when the quarter ends.
What’s everyone complaining about, you wonder. We can score as many points as these guys.

Tick tock.

Now it’s the second quarter and the Suns are warming up—but you’re on fire, and you match them shot for shot.

The only problem?

You’re also getting tired.

The first half ends—and you need the break. The Suns don’t even seem winded.

These guys must do their offseason training in Kenya, you think as you reach for the oxygen mask.

Tick tock.

But then again it’s not all bad—you’re up by a point, and Nash only has three assists, which is great considering he averages 10.5.

Tick tock.

Unfortunately, like a gazelle taking a drink from a crocodile-infested lake, you’re oblivious to the destruction that awaits you.

Tick tock.

The third period opens and you swear you can hear something ticking around you.

Tick tock.

First Amare Stoudemire hits two buckets.

Then it’s Nash.

And then back comes Stoudemire.

That ticking you hear gets even louder.

Tick tock.

Suddenly you realize what the sound is.

But it’s too late.


The ticking time bomb that is the Phoenix Suns has finally detonated—and you’re in the center of the blast.

You spend the rest of the game in a state of shock, amidst a barrage of dunks, three-pointers, steals, and blocks.

When the dust finally clears, the scoreboard reads 113-94—and all you can do is wonder what happened.

As you leave the arena, you shake your head and feel sorry for the next victim on the Suns’ schedule—because you know what awaits them.

The timer has already started.

They just can’t hear it yet.   

Tick tock.

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