The Signs are Clear...

Last night I got a call from "Buck Redhorse", my sometimes spiritual advisor and drinking buddy. He said he was calling to warn me that he had seen the omens and the signs were clear: The Spurs were going to lose game 3 of the NBA playoffs against Phoenix on Saturday.
It was well after midnight when he called and I was in no mood for games.
"What have you been smoking, you freak?" I demanded. "Because no sober man would dare call me at this hour and make such a nightmarish prediction."
"It's true," he said. "I saw it in a dream. I know about these things. Don't forget, man, I'm striaght off the Rez. Believe me, the Spurs? They're going to lose."
"You'll excuse me if I don't cancel my bets over a dream," I told him, deciding that if he wasn't stoned then I was too sober.
Buck isn't a bad guy but he's a relic for me, a reminder of a time in my life when such a warning would have sent me leaping for a lucky charm or some kind of totem to help dispel and ward off the ill-tidings. Buck is the otherway around. When he left the reservation as a young man he joined the military and never looked back until he started going myopic. After that he went back home and spent several years studying "Traditional Ways".
"I saw it," He insisted. "I was in the dark, and I was stumbling around while these black birds flew all around me. They started pecking at me and there was nothing I could do. Then, suddenly, there was a man in a mask, who ran in on flaming feet. He started squashing the birds and they attacked him too but he was unstoppable. And then I saw a huge black bird with silver eyes and he was crying like that old indian in the litter commercial, like he was just to shocked to do anything but stand around and cry ."
"The hell you say," I growled at him, ready to end the foolishness, but my curiosity got the better of me. "What the hell do you mean a man in a mask? The Lone Ranger has no jump shot."
"Listen, fool, I know what I'm talking about," he said. "It can only mean one thing. "
"That the Spurs are going to lose? I don't get it, Buck. It makes no sense."
"You're not looking a the signs...It means Joe Johnson is going to play in game 3 and he's going to wear a plastic face guard to protect his injuries and that the Spurs are going down on Saturday."
(Joe Johnson Story from MSN-http://msn.foxsports.com/nba/story/3643910)
I'd had enough of this old mans crap. "They still haven't got a prayer," I declared. "The Suns are doomed in San Antonio, and that's not a dream, that's the way it's going to be," I told him. "The hell with your masked man."
I placed a side bet with him and hung up and afterward I sat out on the patio to do some serious drinking. I needed time to think about this sudden development. In the last two games the Spurs seemed to break a small sweat to beat the Suns in Phoenix but suddenly the fact that San Antonio is the best home team in the NBA didn't seem to matter as much as it had.
The 6ft 7in, 23 year old, Johnson, who had his best season since his debut in 2001, was side-lined May 12 with a face fracture after being fouled by the Dallas Mavericks Jerry Stackhouse. In every match-up in the regular season he has done a superb job of guarding Tony Parker and is the Suns best 3-point shooter.
Word on the street here has been subdued. I get the feeling that no one wants to say the word "sweep" for fear of putting the kaibosh on the next two wins. There is a lack of the usual hype. Fewer signs and banners on the streets and on cars, not as many people wearing Spurs gear, as if the city is holding its breath until after Saturdays game.

And then it hit me: I was being psyched out. That crafty old man was trying to rattle my nerves. But why? It occured to me that Ol'Buck is always so fond of saying he's "Stright off the Rez" but it never occured to me to ask him where that reservation is, exactly. Arizona, perhaps? San Antonio's 2 away victories over the Suns were hard earned but clear-cut wins, and won with an effort I've not seen in them since they took the Rings in 2003. I called Buck back and told him off.
"It's going to take a lot more than Joe Johnson and his damn mask," I told him, "to help save the Suns. There're demoralized and they're desperate and that's going to make all the difference in the world at the SBC center."
"Believe what you want but the Suns are gonna shine, man."
"Where exactly is that Reservation of yours, Buck?"
Buck started to laugh. "Now, you're reading the signs."
I upped the bet and hung up, once again confident that the Spurs have everything it takes to beat Phoenix.
I gave up being superstitious. It's too much effort, really and it gives up too much authority over my life. I take no chances anymore because suprises can come at you at anytime. Last years loss to the Long Lost Lakers cost me more than dollars and you never really know what side anyone else is on, so I still won't predict a Sweep, but I will say that, no matter how the next game goes, the Suns have no place left to go but down.