Ian—Can I call you “Coach”? No? Well, I’m the editor, so you don’t really have a choice.—Coach, first call me “Tony.” You’ll remember my alter-ego from our basketball days: Anthony by day, Tony by night. That’s right, if you’re going to use your retirement to tell our audience about the NBA, then I’ll just have to sit them on my knee and tell them a few war stories of my own.
Second, I should apologize for how the text formatting got screwed up in your post. It turns out I’m not a very good editor. So I should apologize. But I won’t. Like I said, you don’t really have a choice in these matters.
Frankly, Coach, I’m not happy. Really, I’m angry at myself. You see, I could have picked some windbag sitting at a bar to write the sports posts on this blog, but instead I picked you, the one person who knows so much about the NBA that I’m afraid to disagree. See what I mean? Not a very good editor.
But rumor has it that once in awhile women come across this site, so I’ve got a reputation to uphold. What do men play sports for, if not to impress women? Heck, can you think of any other reason why men do anything we do? I can’t back down and admit that your predictions are the definitive take on the sport I used to play. So, Coach, consider this a challenge. I have come to reclaim my manhood. Let’s start with your predictions for the bottom of the Eastern Conference. Continue reading “Ian and Tony Take on the NBA, Part 2”