PERIOD.

Tim Duncan and the San Antonio Spurs are a scar on the ass of the NBA. If I had to create a ranking in terms of entertainment, watching the Spurs play basketball would land somewhere between C-Span and watching my grandma nod off on the porch. San Antonio has terrorized the NBA playoffs for the better part of the last 10 years. It’s like they’ve been commissioned by satan to drive all the viewers away, one fundamentally sound pick and roll at a time.

The Detroit Pistons are only slightly less boring than San Antonio, but that’s only due to the interesting cast of characters on the team. The highlight of any Pistons game is the inevitable moment Rasheed Wallace snaps and gets a technical foul. I used to find enjoyment in laughing at the fact that Rip Hamilton had cornrows and a receding hairline at the same time, but he had to be difficult and shave his head. Now I’ve been reduced to staring at that weird silver patch in the back of Rasheed Wallace’s head.

I don’t want to waste my NBA Finals experience in agony. For the love of god, Kobe and Kevin Garnett need to pull their teams through.