Nine More Hours

After a summer full of full-time committment (and pay, thank God) for part-time work, prayers that The Boards would be interesting without being bitchy (riiiiiiight), lots of lol cats (because monorail cats are funny), and too much time looking for good pictures of the big guy (damn pajama uniforms), the off-season is nearly over. We're sitting in the theater, suffering through easy listening and mediocre R'n'B, watching the ads and movie quiz cards flip across the screen (and they've already gone through the set eight times), and finally, there's a click, the screen goes dark, the lights go down, and the talking starts to quiet.

It's been a long few months. And it's going to be an even longer few months as I watch my Mavs become what they're going to be in 08-09. Will the new coach be as advertised, able to balance running offense with brick-wall D? Will Jason Kidd have one more season of greatness before riding into a future rich with alimony suits? Will Josh Howard finally crystalize under pressure, instead of just cracking? Will Stack's body hold out? Will the Four-String Motherfucker give us all the gifts the Hornets were too stupid to take? Will our young guns grow into heros in their own rights? Will Our Dirk become, once more, a player who kills so cleanly you're in Hell five minutes before you realize you're dead?

And will it be enough?

We'll see. Binoculars, train ticket, victory cigarette -- I'm ready!
-BJ