The Spurs lackluster play has countless sleeper cells of Spurs fans across the country in a state of shock. Here is one example of this, from a reader named Rocco.
Letter Number 1:
Title: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck Dat Noise
"I go out for some burgers. Have a few beers. Life is good.
Come home and check how the Spurs are doing.
I found out the answer They Are Too Busy Participating In An Ass Sucking Festival To Actually Bother Playing Competetively Against A WC Title Contender AT HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So I'm like fuck it. One of two things need to happen.
1. The Spurs need to withdraw from the ass-sucking festival and participate in the basketball festival known as the NBA regular season.
2. I need to stop placing any compartment of my emotional well-being in how 12 merceneries representing my childhood home do in a game of basktetball.
Since I can only control the former the former, fuck the latter.
I'm a Rocco fan now. That's the only shit I can control."
Well done, Rocco. Though unlikely by his tone, this letter is full of Carl Rogers humanism.
While Rocco was off having burgers I was eating a cold over-priced pulled pork bbq sandwich at the aforementioned Spurs game. I rarely go to the games because I don't always have time but also there is the possibility that I don't want to pay to get bombarded with advertising and loud noises. I can do that on I-10 at 5:00 pm. (And slowly the inner Roddy Stinson is born.) I still have memories from Hemisfair when there were only 5000 people in attendance so perhaps I took for granted the quiet, contemplative, Russian Winter like atmosphere. Clearly, that's it.
However, a promising architect took me along with the company tickets. Amazing tickets. You are so close you analyze the players' tattoos. Notice the rows in front of me. That's right, not that many.
The fact that the Spurs got humiliated was lost on me. I was mesmerized by Babylon. The annoying, pulsating music of the arena sound system seems softer on the first few rows as if it were soft house music from an ultra lounge. Waitrons buzz back and forth. It's a very country club atmosphere. The food court is high end and exclusive, which made the cold sandwich all the more confusing. My friend sent it back twice but to no use. We were exposed for being impostors.
A recreation of the Hindenberg disaster as symbol for the Spurs demoralizing loss and fall from grace. And underneath the dirigible in a black coat and pink shirt and completely out of focus, Joe Reinagel's doppleganger.
Letter Number 2:
A link to this dog dancing video that's captivating the country.
A Conversation With Congressman Al (About the Sorry State of the Spurs and the History of 'Twilight' Point Guards that Have Played in San Antonio)