A Curse upon You, Boston!
Written by IndyHoya
Link
AREA 55 NEWS YOU CAN TAKE TO THE BANK!!!!
Greetings, fellow 55ers.
Just when we thought that it might be safe to breathe easy; that it might be time to light up that fat victory cigar; and that we wouldn’t have to worry anymore about objects looming large in our rear-view mirror, our mercurial cagers went and threw us for a loop.
After playing like contenders against the Knicks, the Bulls, and Charlotte; after going up on the Bobcats by 3 games; and after looking like we might even give a premier team like Boston, Miami, or Chicago a run for their money, now, suddenly, we all feel like we’ve just taken an ice-cold shower.
Yup, somehow the Pacers managed to lose – in thoroughly convincing fashion – to the likes of Sacramento and Detroit. And now, tonight, the Celtics are in town. Charlotte is biting our *** again and Milwaukee’s not out of the picture either. It looks bleak.
How do the results of the last two games make me feel?
Well, if Sacramento and Detroit are any measure of the future, I should feel kind of queasy and nauseous. However, for some reason, I don’t.
Yeah, call me a fool (And why not? Many of you already have, and more than once!), but I think we’ve got a shot at beating Boston tonight.
Why? I dunno exactly. Maybe it’s because it’s now become such a big game. I’ve found that our guys usually play pretty well when we let ourselves get really up against things and absolutely have to win.
Maybe its because we have generally played the Celtics pretty tough this season and now, at last, I think we get their big green monkey off our backs.
Maybe its because I have these big, rose-tinted glasses on right now and I refuse to let my playoff hopes die.
Whatever, be it my lack of logic or my ruby spectacles, everything still looks kind of pinkish to me about tonight’s game.
Yup, I just think we might spring one on the Beantown Boys. You can line up to spit on this prediction, on my playoff hopes, and on my premature burial tomorrow night if this prediction proves wrong. But, yeah, I think we’re going to win it.
I think Granger’s gonna go for around 25; Collison’s gonna dole out around 8 assists and may go 7 for 10; and Roy’s going to have a career night. Nobody’s going to stop Tyler Hansborough. And Brandon and Dahntay are going to be just stellar. OK. That’s my prediction. But I’m going to be there extra-loud and possibly a tad inebriated just to make sure.
PTO Doings: As usual, the PTO will be meeting pre-game in the Anthem Parking Lot at around 5:30 P.M. or so. Red Foster, the usual purveyor of hard liquor at these affairs, will NOT be bringing any Irish whiskey to the festivities. John Jameson and Tullamore Dew are a bit too Celtic for the seriousness of these hard times. I strongly suggest vodka, Red. Or just use your imagination and surprise us.
I will be there at the PTO too, as usual, but I will NOT be wearing any green. Nor will I answer to “Murphy.” nor “Murph,” nor anything else remotely resembling my true family name. I will emphatically ignore any greetings or huzzahs thrown my way by PTO attendees insensitive enough to utilize this Irish sobriquet when referring to me. Rather, tonight my last name will be “Raskolnikov.” Tonight, if asked, I will unhesitatingly deny and forswear my 50% Gaelic heritage. Tonight I am Slavic! Croatian! No spud eater, I. Tonight I am going to be loud. I will be dressed yellower than a crocus. I will be wearing a face bluer than Mel Gibson’s was in Braveheart! Bluer than Cole the Mole’s! Bluer than the sea!
Other appropriate precautions have been taken.
PTO’s elfin and unmistakeably Irish VP/GM, Casey O’Brien, has been ordered, per a ukase issuing from our President, Aaron “Brickyard” Coleman, to keep his shamrocky little butt outside an arbitrarily drawn 12-mile radius of the Anthem lot. His tickets to the game have been confiscated and he has been banned from attending. Due to his sickening resemblance to “Lucky the Leprachaun,” the former Celtics mascot, these precautions were all felt appropriate. Additionally, the PTO regulars will be spending all sums comprising O’Brien’s meager pot-o-gold on hard alcohol and Kyle “Kielbeze” Brumback has taken it upon himself to actually steal and personally consume of all O’Brien’s Lucky Charms.
Irish Curses Upon Boston!
Since the VCU/Kansas game, I have also been repeatedly muttering the following compendium of Irish curses (which worked great for me on Kansas) for further use on selected members of the Boston Celtics:
To Paul Pierce: May there be a griping in your stomach! May your misfortunes at the 3-point line be food for gossip at the forge! May your shooting hand shrivel and be like that of a crone’s!
To Kevin Garnett: May you stand repeatedly on the out of bounds line, holding the ball, on weak spindly legs! May your dreams and reflections of baskets turn vile and bad!
To Ray Allen: Let the cat eat your shooting eye and the devil eat the cat!
To Glen “Big Baby” Davis: May the devil make a ladder of your backbone and a hodge-podge of your shot!
To Rashon Rondo: May warts and chapped hands be upon you and may your dribbling and passing be twice vexed! May your comings be goings and your goings be errant and inaccurate.
To Jeff Green: The curse of all NBA tramps be upon you and may your shooting and rebounding be first poor and then poorer!
To Troy Murphy: Another stone on your grave, you traitorous and miserable wretch! May the rebounds you steal be all from your own team!
To Doc Rivers: May all your vaunted emerald offspring promise much and deliver little!
And to all of you bandwagon traitors that tonight will undoubtedly don bilious Celtics green; forsake your city and its team; and cheer on the enemy, I give you this:
May the devil eat your insipid heads
May worms choke your worthless butts
May hounds of hell gnaw incessantly at your minisculel manly parts
May pitiless bureaucrats and tax collectors chew at your vitals
May you and your offspring all leave Conseco without returning.
May your hopes ever fall short and be without rising.
And may the devil cut the heads off you, and then make a day’s work of your necks!
And may we be loud and mean tonight, 55ers. And may our boys be courageous and prevail!
Go you Pacers! And be loud and proud, O Area 55!
Written by IndyHoya
Link
AREA 55 NEWS YOU CAN TAKE TO THE BANK!!!!
Greetings, fellow 55ers.
Just when we thought that it might be safe to breathe easy; that it might be time to light up that fat victory cigar; and that we wouldn’t have to worry anymore about objects looming large in our rear-view mirror, our mercurial cagers went and threw us for a loop.
After playing like contenders against the Knicks, the Bulls, and Charlotte; after going up on the Bobcats by 3 games; and after looking like we might even give a premier team like Boston, Miami, or Chicago a run for their money, now, suddenly, we all feel like we’ve just taken an ice-cold shower.
Yup, somehow the Pacers managed to lose – in thoroughly convincing fashion – to the likes of Sacramento and Detroit. And now, tonight, the Celtics are in town. Charlotte is biting our *** again and Milwaukee’s not out of the picture either. It looks bleak.
How do the results of the last two games make me feel?
Well, if Sacramento and Detroit are any measure of the future, I should feel kind of queasy and nauseous. However, for some reason, I don’t.
Yeah, call me a fool (And why not? Many of you already have, and more than once!), but I think we’ve got a shot at beating Boston tonight.
Why? I dunno exactly. Maybe it’s because it’s now become such a big game. I’ve found that our guys usually play pretty well when we let ourselves get really up against things and absolutely have to win.
Maybe its because we have generally played the Celtics pretty tough this season and now, at last, I think we get their big green monkey off our backs.
Maybe its because I have these big, rose-tinted glasses on right now and I refuse to let my playoff hopes die.
Whatever, be it my lack of logic or my ruby spectacles, everything still looks kind of pinkish to me about tonight’s game.
Yup, I just think we might spring one on the Beantown Boys. You can line up to spit on this prediction, on my playoff hopes, and on my premature burial tomorrow night if this prediction proves wrong. But, yeah, I think we’re going to win it.
I think Granger’s gonna go for around 25; Collison’s gonna dole out around 8 assists and may go 7 for 10; and Roy’s going to have a career night. Nobody’s going to stop Tyler Hansborough. And Brandon and Dahntay are going to be just stellar. OK. That’s my prediction. But I’m going to be there extra-loud and possibly a tad inebriated just to make sure.
PTO Doings: As usual, the PTO will be meeting pre-game in the Anthem Parking Lot at around 5:30 P.M. or so. Red Foster, the usual purveyor of hard liquor at these affairs, will NOT be bringing any Irish whiskey to the festivities. John Jameson and Tullamore Dew are a bit too Celtic for the seriousness of these hard times. I strongly suggest vodka, Red. Or just use your imagination and surprise us.
I will be there at the PTO too, as usual, but I will NOT be wearing any green. Nor will I answer to “Murphy.” nor “Murph,” nor anything else remotely resembling my true family name. I will emphatically ignore any greetings or huzzahs thrown my way by PTO attendees insensitive enough to utilize this Irish sobriquet when referring to me. Rather, tonight my last name will be “Raskolnikov.” Tonight, if asked, I will unhesitatingly deny and forswear my 50% Gaelic heritage. Tonight I am Slavic! Croatian! No spud eater, I. Tonight I am going to be loud. I will be dressed yellower than a crocus. I will be wearing a face bluer than Mel Gibson’s was in Braveheart! Bluer than Cole the Mole’s! Bluer than the sea!
Other appropriate precautions have been taken.
PTO’s elfin and unmistakeably Irish VP/GM, Casey O’Brien, has been ordered, per a ukase issuing from our President, Aaron “Brickyard” Coleman, to keep his shamrocky little butt outside an arbitrarily drawn 12-mile radius of the Anthem lot. His tickets to the game have been confiscated and he has been banned from attending. Due to his sickening resemblance to “Lucky the Leprachaun,” the former Celtics mascot, these precautions were all felt appropriate. Additionally, the PTO regulars will be spending all sums comprising O’Brien’s meager pot-o-gold on hard alcohol and Kyle “Kielbeze” Brumback has taken it upon himself to actually steal and personally consume of all O’Brien’s Lucky Charms.
Irish Curses Upon Boston!
Since the VCU/Kansas game, I have also been repeatedly muttering the following compendium of Irish curses (which worked great for me on Kansas) for further use on selected members of the Boston Celtics:
To Paul Pierce: May there be a griping in your stomach! May your misfortunes at the 3-point line be food for gossip at the forge! May your shooting hand shrivel and be like that of a crone’s!
To Kevin Garnett: May you stand repeatedly on the out of bounds line, holding the ball, on weak spindly legs! May your dreams and reflections of baskets turn vile and bad!
To Ray Allen: Let the cat eat your shooting eye and the devil eat the cat!
To Glen “Big Baby” Davis: May the devil make a ladder of your backbone and a hodge-podge of your shot!
To Rashon Rondo: May warts and chapped hands be upon you and may your dribbling and passing be twice vexed! May your comings be goings and your goings be errant and inaccurate.
To Jeff Green: The curse of all NBA tramps be upon you and may your shooting and rebounding be first poor and then poorer!
To Troy Murphy: Another stone on your grave, you traitorous and miserable wretch! May the rebounds you steal be all from your own team!
To Doc Rivers: May all your vaunted emerald offspring promise much and deliver little!
And to all of you bandwagon traitors that tonight will undoubtedly don bilious Celtics green; forsake your city and its team; and cheer on the enemy, I give you this:
May the devil eat your insipid heads
May worms choke your worthless butts
May hounds of hell gnaw incessantly at your minisculel manly parts
May pitiless bureaucrats and tax collectors chew at your vitals
May you and your offspring all leave Conseco without returning.
May your hopes ever fall short and be without rising.
And may the devil cut the heads off you, and then make a day’s work of your necks!
And may we be loud and mean tonight, 55ers. And may our boys be courageous and prevail!
Go you Pacers! And be loud and proud, O Area 55!
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