Sunday
Complacencies of the peignoir, and late
Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair,
And the green freedom of a cockatoo
Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
The holy hush of ancient sacrifice.
She dreams a little, and she feels the dark
Encroachment of that old catastrophe,
- Excerpt from “Sunday Morning”, Wallace Stevens
I forgot how much I love the NBA’s Sunday games. I’m sitting here on my couch eating some bacon and eggs, drinking a cup of coffee and slowing picking through the Sunday Times hungrily awaiting this afternoon’s Spurs-Lakers game. Mike Tirico and Hubie Brown are busily repeating the old tropes about the Celtics (Garnett’s intensity, Rondo’s potential) as Dallas struggles to find open looks for Dirk and and Allen reminds me why you should never discount a pure shooter, no matter what his age. I can say quite confidently that, even if the Spurs lose (which typically leaves your humble author in a pretty bad mood), today will have been a good day. Enjoy the game. Go Spurs.
