(As you read the below color commentary, consider that the coach of the St. Louis Blues, nemesis of the Wild, and a couple of sports talking heads from one of the new(er) mega-networks, all sported various duos of pastel colors on their suit-breasts and you would think that non-gainly for figures in a sport where the fathers of the current stars mostly had missing teeth from (well-placed?) pucks. Especially when it goes against sacred team colors. And then there is me, Howdy Joe, with still after all these years only a shadow of a photo up top, (no one has missed). Pitchers usually don’t get chipped teeth, but …)
The Bucks weren’t out there for long — is it ever long enough even when savoring a title? — in the Wild this Deer District season. The Buck has stopped here, and fewer fear the deer. And the Minnesota Wild? Amounts to a Twin killing, to bring in baseball and our now boys of summer.
But in this year’s playoffs, both of those other two teams — thus like twins — pulled a Packer to pack in another squad and exited the playoffs early, as last weekend’s ending games revealed basically same day. There’d be no repeat of Charles Barkley making the then astounding prediction that the Milwaukee Bucks would find it all and win it all, and prompted the staging of the many hundreds of dollar bills — like their reigning down of threes — falling from the set’s glowing ceiling to the stage. Light is fleeting when you Ride The Lightning. The lyric could lie in a billboard, “Slay the Greenshot.”
We also had precious little time to watch the commentators … commentate … as was the new makeup of the old matchup between The Round Mound of Rebound — in the shape of a quarter, in both the first and the fourth — and the Shaq of similar girth. And Kenny would this year only have a few instances of analysis, by marching up to the Biggest Of All TV Screens and make his points about Midwest Xs and Os. Throw in one more analyst and they all needed more than 10 yards to be put between their Gang of Four sprawling set as they sparred and shouted, in front of a camera lens that shot more horizontal then vertical. There was not nearly as much social distancing by those who picked apart the puck use at the Wild games.
There also would not be a Bucks vs. Lakers best-of-seven, such as in days of yore, but we did have the Celtics coming to town to win a 4-3 series. They did just the opposite in their Game One of the next series, blowing a 13-point lead and going on to lose by 11, in part because of a record number of (other) blocks surrendered. The site where the Bucks lost their antlers would be in that other Milwaukee arena, the Bradley Center, which also provided a shift, not instead being called Miller Park. When I wrote about the retired jerseys hanging there with a different kind of sleeve, and not one of big center Bob Lanier who’s obviously and rightly been in the news of late, I forgot to mention that they indeed go on facia “around the horn” to encompass a series of banners seen from anywhere in the park, not just the Game Sevens.
To take it down a level, so many college stars, and not those in the sky, have announced that they’re entering the so-called “transfer portal” to go to a team with better perks than just parks, having been won over by chances of winning the playoffs and the heart of the fraternity girl provided. OK, that was a way Old School way of what shall I say, enticement to join?
Or, as Osbourne’s song goes, “the astral plane we’ll travel through.” And despite lack of regional games to cover, and such concerts to go to, Ozzy’s lookalike, with his big rounded shades, can be seen at your friendly area Super WalMart, hawking their eye glasses. What? Is it Elton?
And what about those avid viewers of color commentary who when the camera panned, drew a bead from behind, so they would no longer have to endure … Terry Bradshaw, in third and long, having three-piece-suit double trouble, via a wide pink and mauve tie. At the next chair was a talking head with one of tiny black and white polka dots. No self-respecting middle linebacker would wear that. Incomplete. And the Wildless foe, St. Louis, moved into a best of seven where both teams have the Blues on their jerseys.
Don’t know about Gopher coach Fleck in that regard. But he is the near namesake of Ben Afleck and the Aflack Duck via Gilbert Godfried in a football-game commercial — presumably the polar opposites of what is just ducky about sense of style. And we won’t go into those waters about the local real estate agent, sign on the corner, by the name of Fletch, and any comparison to the Chevy Chase portrayal of a defective detective by nearly such a name, although their first names both end in Y).
But the bartender had the Blues over her precious Wild, who set the stage for what was to come by dropping a 2-0 lead to lose 5-2. She was adamant about asking about the final outcome, as it busy and the opposing goals came too quickly to be tracked. Every Series Is One Less To Your Last. On the evening following the downfall, and deflating her mood, she kept the same murky expression while lamenting what had happened, even while turning her head away from me.
That what-are-you-known-by was called online a strange “illusion” when referring to the Minnesota Wild logo combining themes. It was not an illusion that the singer who did her National Anthem thing at a recent high school playoff game, and was caught similarly, on camera a different time, wearing the pro hockey logo-ed jersey and/or hat of the other team! Oh Canada!