My Pacers are playing the Pistons in the Eastern Conference Finals. It should not be this stressful, but look at my nails and you’ll see how seriously I take this sort of thing.

Game 1:
I can’t honestly say I remember much of this game. I was pretty tired and fell asleep for at least a minute out of each quarter. Yes, I saw most of the game this way, but I was too tired to really remember what happened. Oh, except we won! Also, my brother called in the middle of the 4th quarter. He’s down in Florida and his radio wasn’t picking up right. I gave him a play by play for a bit. As it got down to the wire and it looked like we either might not win or we’d have overtime, he just kept saying “I told you we couldn’t beat this team.” To which I replied, “What-EVER.”

Game 2:
This was by far the worst officiated game in NBA history. Rasheed Wallace and his smart mouth were enough to tick me off; I really didn’t need the officials to help it along. I do have to admit that it was poorly called on both ends, but you’ll never convince me it wasn’t weighted against us.

Game 3:
I don’t get Rick Carlisle. I have been begging Donnie Walsh to hire him for 3 years, but this was madness. Everytime Anthony Johnson would have the team back in the game, he’d put Jamal Tinsley in to lose it for us. Jamal Tinsley is not a bad basketball player; he’s just a crappy point guard. He can’t create offense. He can’t run the ball. He can’t lead this team. So why is it that Carlisle keeps putting him in to throw the ball away?