Before blowing out my achilles tendon during a pick up basketball game (don't try this kids, it stinks), I played on a city rec league team with, shall I politely say, octegenarian jump shooters. It was a veteran squad that had just as much fun heading to our tavern sponsor after the game as it was taking the floor. We stayed together for several winters and played some pretty good ball. The most enjoyable victories in band box junior high gyms were against a gaggle of young kids with expensive shoes and color coded uniforms. During pre-game warmups, these teams would look at us with mis-matched socks and tattered sneakers, along with our graying hair, and smirk over what appeared to be a rollover rout. More often than not, it didn't happen. Which brings us to the San Antonio Spurs NBA Finals opening victory over the Miami Heat 92-88 on Thursday night. I'm not saying the Heat is full of young punks, Ray Allen and Shane Battier are NBA senior citizens, but led by LeBron James, they are pereceived as the young stallions compared to the decrepid plow horses on the Spurs. Tim Duncan, Tony Parker and Manu Ginobelli are all well into their 30's, but just like my rec team, have played together for over a decade. They've been to four prior championship series and have yet to lose. Everyone assumed rigormortis would set in after a nine day layoff but nope, the old men still play a pretty good brand of ball and served notice to the boys from South Beach, if you want a second straight title, you're gonna have to take it from us. Score one for the old boys.
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