Mike Conley's face is so swollen, he looks like he just survived a battle in the old Coliseum in Rome fought entirely with 50 pound wooden clubs.
He looks like Greg Kinnear in 'As Good as it Gets.'
He looks bad. He looks f'ing fierce.
His one eye glares across the land, searching for battle, ready for blood sport.
He is the last survivor in the human-camp and the zombies are swarming over the hills and you're trying to get to the weaponry stockpiled beneath his bunk but he's not having any of it—no, sir—zombies be damned. You ain't getting his guns.
Anyways, we could keep going, but you get the point. Conley probably is not fit to play basketball. His face is broken And yet, for game two, he was the most important player on the floor for the team that eventually prevailed.
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Stephen Curry was presented with his MVP trophy before the game.
The Warriors were on cloud nine. In the last few days, their leader had won the league's most prestigious individual award, they had dispatched the Grizzlies with seeming ease in game one, and they were headed into a game two on home court, with all the momentum in the world. What could go wrong?
Conley's meat-face and all the horror it holds went wrong.
The Warriors, for all they've accomplished, have at times been written off as purely a "jumpshooting team." People have, rightly, wondered what happens when the shots don't fall??
Last night is what happens. You see what happens Donnie?
You see what happens?
You. See. What. Happens. When you FIND A STRANGER IN THE ALPS??
(I hope someone gets that reference)
Stephen Curry, with the adoration of a nation shining upon his angelic face, shot a grimy 7-19 from the floor, including a particularly bang-your-head-against-sharpglass-shards-to-forget-the-pain-of-life 2-11 from beyond the arc.
Klay Thompson shot 6-15, and 1-6 from three. At one point, he missed seven shots in a row, including (on one single possession) a one-footed running three pointer and a one footed too-fancy-for-his-own-good reverse dunk that caromed wildly off the metal rim, leaving a hollow, empty CLANG ringing through the cavernous stadium.
Tony Allen was in Klay's head. Tony Allen was so far inside his head that he may as well have been dictating his every thought. Writing it out, laboriously, on some dust covered typewriter. Tony Allen, sitting with a mad look on his face, one eyebrow cocked. Sitting in the attic of Klay's mind, quietly typing the same sentence over and over and over again on a small, clicking typewriter like Jack in The Shining... And do you know what that sentence was? Do you?
FIRST TEAM ALL DEFENSE. FIRST TEAM ALL DEFENSE. FIRST TEAM ALL DEFENSE.
So now that the Warriors have been punched in the mouth by One Eyed Charlie and his pirate horde, what is to be done?
I believe, honestly, that this is a blessing. The Warriors were never going to go 16-0 this postseason.The Grizzlies are not The Pelicans. You can't come out flat against them, go down 20, and then expect to come back. They are too big, too strong, too experienced, and too nasty to allow it.
Steve Kerr has all the time in the world (seriously, next game isn't until Saturday) to fix this.
The Warriors are too good to let themselves be insulted like this. They will respond.
I think if anything, the playoffs have now officially begun. No more cuteness. No more dancing. No more individual accolades.
The time has come to step it up and show that this season, and its 67 wins, was not an aberration.
Onwards into the fray dear friends.