NBA Finals Diary- How to Kill Time Between Games

The days between NBA Finals wins fly by and are full of fun and euphoria. There's the inclination to relive the game, maybe re-watch it, maybe pour over stats and analytics in great detail so as to keep the good feelings alive and the memories fresh.

When you win you leave the television set on afterward. You want to hear what Chuck and Kenny say. You're interested in Doug Collins and Jalen Rose for the first time since...umm...ever? You don't find Neil Everett and Stan Verrett akin to a railroad spike to the ear.

You turn on Mike & Mike the next morning. You listen to Lebatard because you know, deep down, that  he was dying for the Cavaliers and LeBron to get beaten. You know this because despite how he positions it, he's still butt hurt by LBJ going back to Cleveland but he made fun of Cleveland for years for the same thing.

You listen to Russillo and Kanell because.... wait, you don't listen to Russillo and Kanell. Not ever. You take a nap from 1-4pm or actually get shit done at work.

On days following wins Bomani Jones is a safe bet as well. He's entertaining and caustic every day, it's just more fun when his gun isn't trained on your team.

But you can see how it goes. You're not afraid to hear about the games you win.

Now, you still never, ever, ever, EVER listen to Cleveland sports talk radio.

Why. Is it because it tends to be biased toward the hometown teams?

No!  I mean, it is biased. But the biggest reason you never, ever, ever, EVER listen to Cleveland sports radio shows is because THEY BLOW.

There's nothing you can point to that will make me believe otherwise. They stink. There's not one I'd listen to. I might not pee on a host of any of them if they were on fire. I'd go so far as to say..... wait... I digress. That's another story for another time.

Suffice it to say that after a big playoff win, I'll listen to the talking heads. Just not the empty ones that work from here.

Now, on days after huge losses?  Fuhgedaboudit.

Lockdown. Not a peep.

No postgame coverage. Immediately turn off the television and check liquor supply. Appreciate the fact that I bought the handle of Wild Turkey 101 instead of the smaller bottle. Log off twitter. Although it's about the only medium that allows you to easily and quickly insulate what you see. Still, immediately after a loss, it goes off.

Facebook? Please.  The idiot factor on Facebook is off the charts on a random Tuesday morning, much less being forced to read Julie-Who-Graduated-With-Me-in-1985's hot take on why Delly needs more minutes and how Love needs more time on the elbow and less on the wing.  Or whatever horseshit Crazy Julie is spewing that night.

Can't have that.

No newspapers the next day either........

HA!!  That was a joke.  NO ONE gets newspapers on any morning any more. Ever. Probably because Bill Livingston and Tony Grossi ruined the newspaper business all by themselves, but maybe because media is changing, people demand immediacy in the delivery of their information, and all that.

But but don't discount the Grossi-Livingston Ruination Effect.

I haven't watched a minute of sports since Thursday night's loss. I won't until tonight. Instead, I made a few trips to Lodi for my 15 year-old's soccer tournament. Went to the outlet stores between matches, got lunch, watched my wife and daughter walk from store to store accumulating bags and boxes, and then went back for the later game and stood in a pouring rain while her team beat another club 10-0.

While I was crying, I barely even thought of the NBA Finals.

Did I mention the two of them went to the Chocolate Factory there?

Did I mention they were in there for 35 minutes? Did I mention they needed a box from that place? Did I mention me crying?

Anyway, that's how you beat the "After Big Loss Blues". All you really need to do is get married, buy a house, a couple cars, ring up mortgage debt, have a couple kids, dump a few thousand bucks into their club sports each year and all that gives you a ready-made joyful way to avoid the post-game loss hangover. There's always a match or a practice. There's always an outlet mall.


Or you can watch Neil Everett prattle on, listen to Bull & Fox and read the latest Livingston prose.

I know which method is more expensive.  I also know which one is more costly.

Let's Go Cavs!
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