Talkin’ Nuggets Blues

by C.M. Jones

Please forgive any misspellings in this post, I’m typing with one hand, my left, while my other is in a blender. I’ve eaten a full bag of candy hearts (thanks again mom) and I’m about to smash a full can of Pringles before bed. Little by little, that’s how hearts break. Rarely does it shatter all at once under some immense force. It gets chipped, shaved, sanded down over time until it becomes a tiny ball which, if you look close enough, has a likeness to Kevin Durant.

A tiny chisel will do the trick. A few traveling violations in crunch time by a veteran, a few blown defensive assignments, particularly on pick and rolls, a look of panic in the face of our young leader with the ball in his hands at the end of the game; soon enough, you look down and think, oh those are little pieces of my heart on the floor, but the vacuum is in the closet and it needs a new bag anyway.

The glass of whiskey on the table next to me (what else does one wash pills down with these days?) is half…One wants to say full. There is still hope. The bench played fantastic. We will be getting key players back soon after the all-star break. Wilson Chandler might be so excited to be playing in America again that he could instantly put up 30 a game. I take a swig. Now it is completely empty.

This is what the Nuggets are. A very exciting team that is fun to watch. Young, creative, driven, slightly inept but good enough to pull you toward the belief that they can do some damage in the playoffs if only, IF ONLY. They are the NBA’s best IF ONLY team. If only they were healthy. If only they played smarter on defense. If only they had a few more practices. If only they played in the pathetic Eastern Conference or, really, any division other than the Northwest. They have the talent to provoke these questions. I pour some more whiskey. I’m out of pills so I go for the Flinstone vitamins. Fred looks at me and tells me that I shouldn’t be making excuses. I should just enjoy this team for what it is. He imagines that more than half of the cities with NBA teams would kill to have this roster and their effort. I eat his orange, chalky head and call it a night.