Also Ran Nuggets Ease by the Thunder Inside the Peake, 126-125 OT

Morphine. I need some morphine if I’m going to make it to the conclusion of this Thunder basketball season.

I can’t lie and I won’t. Never in my life has a team sucked the joy and passion like this from me. This isn’t a basketball season–it’s torture chamber.

This season has become like a death knell for me. Part of me says fuck it—you don’t have to watch this bullshit anymore. But the competitive part of me won’t allow that degree of quitting even though I’d like to be the one personally who doused this team in diesel and lit a match.

I wonder if it’s felony to catch an NBA team on fire in Oklahoma?

The diva lab Pauli keeps her eyes closed during the games and flaps her ears over in a cute way where she can’t hear me screaming. My wife makes sure before every tip there aren’t any objects near me I could shear the flat screen with. Some of my neighbors at this point must think I’ve killed some people over here, but must be afraid to call the police.

But thank god—there’s only five games left. And maybe, perhaps, with divine intervention–this group of basketball misfits Sam Presti saw fit to pay $134 million dollars will somehow miss the playoffs and allow me to focus on the Philadelphia 76’ers and Boston Bruins.

But I can’t quit at this point. This has become personal with me even after this loss to a blah Denver team. But here’s the thing, when you go 15-27 from the free throw line — it’s hard to win a basketball game even at the high school level.

But by the grace of God there are no more Thunder games in March. Only five games remain in April if Billy Donovan doesn’t change some things.

I can see in his eyes…he’s dying just like me with every game.

Like me—I think he wants to get this death knell march over and pretend it never happened.

The Thunder at New Orleans on Easter afternoon.