And most cheeseheads couldn't care less
So we get Jeremy Scott to wail the anthem on his sax. He's not noodling for the sake of noodling anymore -- now he's got this bit that where every time there's normally a note that would stand alone, he runs a chromatic scale up and down to get to it, so he's still in Bleeding Gums Murphy territory.
The game starts, and, well Michael Redd's playing but he's not starting. Bogut is out, but at least he's dressed in a sharp suit, he appears to have actually shaved, and he's reallystarting to remind me of Ashton Kutcher in those Nikon Cookpix commercials.
Scott Skiles does notlook happy. The team's lost (albeit, admirably, but this rooting for the also-ran is going to get old fast) a bunch in a row, and they're up against Cleveland. They probably just got off the plane that morning, had barely enough time to do the three s's, maybe get in a nap, and then go play after Bleeding Gums Scott renders the anthem. And so they're flat, sticking out so much because Scott was perfectly on key.
The whole night is flat. They're out there in their new red uniforms, and Cleveland therefore has to wear their home jerseys. Luke "The Short White Guy" Ridenour is the only one who seems to be on fire, and he's the one who gives them a chance. But it's not to be. They're almost tied, and Brian and I are deciding whether to cut out early and catch a band, or wait till the bitter end. We cut out after the deficit stretched to 8.
This year, I'm going to give them the benefit of the doubt. Redd played, but you can tell he's not 100%. Maybe he's been working out, but he hasn't been playing NBA ball for the past few weeks. Bogut is out. Charlie V was supposed to be out, as it was, he wasn't 100%. They were putting on some big defense, but they couldn't shoot to save their lives (unless you're talking about that short white guy.)
And the crowd was flat. We're all starting to turn into Cub-like fans, I fear. We enjoy a good ball game, but we're not expecting anything remarkable to happen, and that's a recipe for horrible self-fulfilling prophecy. Rahne Taylor (I finally got a read on the correct spelling on his name), is even getting tired looking. I'm hoping that all these guys will heal up and get the spark back that almost had them beating Boston the other week, that seemed to come alive last night in the 4th quarter, that might turn them into at least a team able to give a hoot. But in the meantime, I'm trying not to be like this one cheesehead, who looked at the Uptown Savages for only three seconds before declaring he could care less.