We're In The What?

Before I begin, I'd just like to pass along a message from John Mason, the wildly-popular and insanely-talented Pistons public address announcer:

"DEEEEEEEE-TROIT, GOING HOME!"

The fourth quarter was yet another concrete validation as to why the male of the species always have--and always will--love a good breast.

31 points? 19 in the fourth quarter of a Conference Finals close-out game? From a rook second-rounder?

On the heels of The Chosen One's epic Game Five?

LeBron has blown TCE outta the water.

It no longer exists. It's done. Stick a Joe Tait-sized fork in it.

And make sure the tines are long enough to reach the "dynastic" Motor City Bad Boys, version 2.0.

(Pardon me while I order some take-out chicken and bust into the rum for Jobu)

(Just in case)

Our boys are in The Finals.

Hot.

Damn.

With LeBron, I always knew it was not a matter of "if", but rather "when". Just never thought it would happen this soon, in this manner, with this cast.

And with a Longhorn playing the Robin to his Batman.

NBA Finals, the Cavs are in.

Much like very early Friday morning, all I can say is "wow".

Just, wow.