The NBA Finals have made me want a professional sport to be like professional wrestling. Not only would I like to see Russell Westbrook fly off the top rope with a drop kick to Lebron James, I really want to see Shane Battier turn face.
In the world of professional wrestling, like the WWE, good guys are faces and bad guys are heels. The Miami Heat are the quintessential heel team. They are the nWo from the 1990’s glory days of WCW, complete with James playing the ultimate turncoat villain, Hollywood Hulk Hogan.
The Oklahoma City Thunder play the face role perfectly (for everyone except half-interested Miami fans, disgruntled Seattle Sonic fans and Shane here at Tobacco Road Blues). OKC is led by the young, hungry and humble Kevin Durant, the high-flying, risk-taking Westbrook, and the lovable bearded guy James Harden.
An hour ago, I got this text from my girlfriend:
"Omg Tyler Hansboro is in my yoga class."
As many readers know, I have a special affinity for the big fella who never lost in Cameron. Normally, I would've been at this class with her, but a knee injury suffered last night while playing ping pong has me sidelined. DAMN YOU, CURS'ED LIFE!
I told her to remember EVERYTHING, but I think the text arrived late. Still, she came away with some good details. Here now is her full report of the episode I'm calling
A Heartfelt Tribute to Pyscho-Chi
(Props to @chrisalyss for the wordlplay.)
So I'm waiting in the lobby a few minutes before class starts, and a really tall guy with a dark-haired friend came in. He walked to the desk, and the woman there asked if he'd ever been to the studio before.