Open Letter To Bill Simmons

It seems such a waste of time.  If that’s what it’s all about.  Mama, if that’s movin’ up, then I’m movin’ out.  -Billy Joel

Public service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  I’m done.  Fini.  I’ve had all I can stands.  I can’t stands no more.  Good night, sleep tight and pleasant dreams to you.  Adios, au revior, auf weidersehen.     

Don’t get me wrong.  There was a time I loved Dollar Bill.  Loved him.  The godfather of sports blogging.  The godfather of Red Sox Nation as we know it.  I was honored and grateful that he invited me to his home on the wedding day of his daughter.  Today he is dead to me.  So is Phillip Tattallgia.  Moe Green.  Slacci.  Cuneo.  Today I settled all family business so don’t tell me that you’re innocent.  Admit what you did.  Admit it Bill. 

You sided with the enemy.  You said nobody is beating the Lakers this season.  Not Boston…not anybody.  It’s not so much what you said, but how you said it.  Like you were in bed with them.  Spooning them.  Whispering sweet nothings in their ear.  Whispering sweet nothing’s in Phil Jackson’s ear.”  Phil Jackson!  You should be ashamed of yourself.  You know what Red said about Phil.  Red said, “Remember one thing:  He’s been very fortunate.  He picks his spots.  That’s all I can say.”  That says it all. 

While you were busy bashing Doc and lauding Phil, Doc was busy outcoaching the Zenmaster.  All series long it’s been Rivers, not Jackson, who has pushed the right buttons and given his team the upper hand.  In the comeback to beat all comebacks, Rivers went small.  Jackson had no counter.  The Lakers were so fearful of Boston’s lineup that they let Ray Allen drive right down Main Street for the game-clinching layup.  Ball game.  How ’bout that Bill?  How’s that make you feel?  All broke like?  I hope so. 

You have some nerve.  Some nerve massaging Kobe Bryant’s genetalia.  Massaging Kobe’s genetalia and calling him Jordanesque.  Saying things like Kobe has the ability to raise his game in big moments.  Kobe can pick his spots.  Kobe keeps his teammates involved.  Kobe can arbitrarily take over the game and put it away. Kobe, Kobe, Kobe. 

While you were massaging Kobe’s genetalia and saying all that, our favorite son, Paul Pierce, was winning ballgames.  Where were you?  Where were you when the longest-tenured member of the Celtics put this team on his back and carried them to the Promised Land? 

You my have written this.  You may have written that.  A day late and a dollar short.  Damage done.  You live in Los Angeles now.  I fear that’s who you are now.  You and Joe Torre now.  All those Celtics games you were at and waxed so poetic about, well, I was at those games too.  And I guess that’s what makes me so mad.  You’ve lost all perspective.  You said the complete confidence that every Lakers fan has in Kobe compared to the lack of confidence every Celtics fan has in Boston is what puts the Lakers in the driver’s seat.  The only Celtics fan who lost confidence in their team was you. 

So now, now, when the Celtics hoist banner number seventeen into the rafters, I don’t want to hear about your joy.  Not one word.  You are the guy who put the balloons up in the LA rafters and was ready to party.  And like Don Nelson, I am here to rain on that parade. 

Public Acknowledgements:  Popeye, Lawrence Welk, The Godfather and John Hollinger

Peace out homies.  Six two and Even!

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