Dear Paul, I'm Back
Two games. Two losses.
My brothers took me to the Eastbank Saloon the night the Blazers hosted the Nuggets. They convinced me it was time to bust this curse. Actually, to be honest, it was born out of their belief that I don't hold any power over the Blazers fate. Even my own brothers, who have witnessed loss after loss after loss with me watching games, still don't believe me.
So we sat there, ordered some whiskey and beer, and watched. With two or three minutes remaining in a tight game, I offered to leave the premises. They said no and told me to fight through it. A handful of missed free throws later, the Blazers had their first home loss of the season, which came much earlier than last years first home loss, which was the first home game I watched last year, if you'll remember.
Amazingly, my brothers still tried to convince me it wasn't about me. Of course, logically, they make an obvious case. There is absolutely no way for me to prove it is true. I can't prove that if I'd got up with two or three minutes to go and left that Brandon Roy or Greg Oden would have made any of the crucial free throws they missed, but in my heart of hearts, I think they would have.
For good measure, I tuned into the end of the home game against the Atlanta Hawks. Coming off a home loss to the Nuggets, I was pretty certain that victory was inevitable. But no. A late rally fell short. I couldn't help but feel I'd thwarted it.
Out of boredom in my car I tune into the local yokels of sports talk radio. Caller after caller wants to talk about lack of team chemistry and who should be starting and who should be coming off the bench and who's to blame for this and who's to blame for that, but obviously none of them have ever read my blog.
Labels: Blazers Paul Allen Curses