There are no bad conspiracy theories in the modern era, only theories that have not yet been fully examined. It’s the only way we can achieve completely insane Nirvana, where each of us is free to achieve our own individual freak-out follies without worrying about any factual investigation, motivational analysis, or just plain plausibility. Today’s test: November 5 is still scheduled.
More tests: Game 4.
It has suddenly become our argument, after hours of research over late-night or sleep-deprived espresso martinis, that Adam Silver and Gary Bettman independently concluded that their respective championship series were cold, gray failures. The Boston Celtics and Florida Panthers were seriously competing with their fifth-seeded opponents, the Dallas Mavericks and Edmonton Oilers, and the only talking points that came out of the first six games played were (a) Luka Doncic is an incredibly talented star and astonishingly petulant and (b) Connor McDavid is overrated by the Canadiens because he doesn’t play 55 minutes a game.
So Silver and Bettman, who learned at the feet of the tyrannical but brilliant David Stern, met over cocktails in the Thrones Fortress and brainstormed the topic of the day, namely, “How to take down the WNBA?” He came up with an approach that is not terribly novel but still attracts attention: the meek get up and kick the favorites right at the crossroads.
The Mavs, beaten and beaten during the first three games against Boston, rose on Friday as if they had been alchemically transformed and defeated the Celtics, 122-84, the third most lopsided Finals game in history, behind Michael. Jordan game in which Utah scored an all-time low 54 points and a 2008 Celtics victory over the Lakers, only to rub the green bleach deeper. Doncic behaved relatively well during the victory (re: minimally complaining), as befits someone who missed all eight of his three-pointers. The rest of the box score was equally hilarious on both sidesparticularly the career-destroying -38 of defensive wizard Jrue Holiday.
Bettman, noticing this, sent a message from his aerie in the Edmonton suburb of Whitemud that the Oilers needed to establish some credibility and fast. The result: an 8-1 beating of the Panthers, the second most lopsided Finals game in history after Pittsburgh. The decider of the 8-0 series against the Minnesota North Stars, a loss so complete that the North Stars changed their logo before the following season and fled town two years later. McDavid broke the record of assists in a playoff season, scoring the not-so-important fourth goal and assisting on each of the next three, including the one that chased goalie and part-time brick wall impersonator Sergei Bobrovsky. He also repaired his reputation, which should never have been damaged, giving disaffected Canadians cause for hope that will, of course, eventually be crushed.
That’s the secret to all this aluminum foil haberdashery. While both leagues and ABC will get two extra games thanks to these recent developments (hence the wild conspiracy theory we bring to you at no additional cost), we also know that there is no such thing as momentum between games, only within them. If there was such a thing, both series would have been swept (game four scores would have been 106-95 and 4-1 because We Know Things), and they wouldn’t be very interesting either. In such a scenario, the Celtics would have been criticized for having had too easy a path to victory, the easiest path based on Denver’s 2023 opponent ranking, and the Panthers would have been punished for having no discernible superstar beyond of the Bobrovsky who answers a single question.
Both series would have died a quick death and left the rest of the summer to the Chicago White Sox. search for the earth’s crust and Caitlin Clark and the search for insert it into every CNN nightly news story, including the daily roundup of sharks attacking swimmers off the Florida coast. So Gary and Adam, take a bow, you desperate old idiots. You did; true, not very subtly, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
This theory is the only way the last two days make any sense, and frankly, we’ll go with it. When a story needs to be invented, only true craftsmen will do, and when the only evidence offered for a crackpot story is, “Well, what’s your theory, smartass?”, the skill lies in turning the implausible into reality. conceivable through intelligent storytelling. Anyway, that’s ours, for a Father’s Day you will forget it because nothing good comes from a bastard day in which men are unreasonably honored for causing their partners the greatest amount of measurable physical pain.