GOOD MORNING PEOPLE!!
Golden State 132, L.A. Clippers 105 (Warriors up 2-1)
The Clippers were told to make Stephen Curry and Klay Thompson work, dammit. Something something something OUR HOUSE something something CHESS PIECE something something NEATLY TRIMMED GOATEE.
It didn’t work, nothing worked, the Clippers even let the lead get up to 36 points (to account for the line outside the place) and it still wasn’t enough.
Golden State owns too many options to count, and when the helpers come alive you’ve got apsatively no chance against the champs.
Andre Iguodala played his ass off in this win: Kevin McHale should learn that he doesn’t like to be called “Iggy” and Dre’s Game 3 strut ended with three three-pointers, two blocks and 15 points.
Andrew fucking Bogut grabbed 14 rebounds, four offensive (because you can’t joke about anything anymore).
Alfonzo McKinnie made his way to every loose ball via several loose limbs, and Kevon Looney ran masterful in his attempts to process everything he’s ever been told about NBA defense.
The Clippers responded with JaMychal Green’s missed assignments and a ton of shots that went halfway down and out.
Danilo Gallinari missed 11-13 attempts in his bid to earn double-figure free throws (halved it, 5-5), rookies Shamet and SGA combined to clang 10-12, Lou Williams missed 7-11 shots.
And poor Patrick Beverley could only do so darn much against a Golly twice his size:
He’s gonna look so good next to Kevin Knox.
Game 4 in Los Angeles on Sunday at 3:30 PM on ABC.
Philadelphia 131, Brooklyn 115 (Sixers lead series 2-1)
The Sixers started Greg Monroe because they needed someone to mop up minutes. They understood that Monroe’s worn six uniforms in four years, not including 14 trips to tailor as a Celtic.
They get that he only played 480 minutes this year, and that most of that space was spent explaining why his arms can get rim on one side of the court but barely touch net on the other. He’s Greg Monroe, he’s somehow only 28 and here because Joel Embiid can’t be.
It turned out fine, just fine. Monroe’s curly-fry defense crunched hopeless in the face of D’Angelo Russell and it took Greg a while to realize which team he was supposed to be rebounding for, plus he did miss 9-13 shots before we could get to the end of this sentence.
But Monroe did hold the trunk in time for Boban Marjanovic (14 points, eight boards) to enter appropriately, and he settled a usage-heavy Sixers starting lineup in the spots of game where the fewer names, the better.
Philly did the best with what it could on Thursday, the team shitcanned T.J. McConnell (two minutes of garbage time) and didn’t dress the available Zhaire Smith yet the stars were more than enough.
Every Sixer got a strong taste in the first quarter, the visitors’ growing lead was cemented by the inclusion of Boban alongside the lamestain entrance of Net reserves Spencer Dinwiddie and Caris Levert (1-7 combined in the first).
The Sixers fielded athletes at every spot plus Boban’s taste and touch, this realization crushed the Nets. With the rotations slimmed and the stars fit to burn, Brooklyn conceded a competitive disadvantage at most running positions.
Tobias Harris took cunning advantage.
Harris has parked 8-12 three-pointers in his first postseason as a Sixer.
LeVert returned to make some hay of his release, he’d curl into 26 points before the evening was through, Dinwiddie also re-emerged to develop some OK action and 15 bench points.
Brooklyn looked outclassed, though, even with Embiid cramped on the bench.
Down at home, the Nets rolled out a zone to counter Joe Harris’ inability to match J.J. Redick (26 points, 7-17 shooting) and it eventually drew blood. Rondae Hollis-Jefferson slipped in for 10 (!) free throw makes, there were second half spots where BKN looked to have a Game 3 in them.
As Redick’s legs left him, however, Ben Simmons stepped into solemnity.
Simmons contributed 15 points, two blocks and three assists in the fourth period.
If it takes him this long to wind up, fine. I’m cool with this advancement.
Monroe, we’ll figure out later.
Game 4 on Saturday at 3 PM in Brooklyn on TNT.
San Antonio 118, Denver 98 (Spurs lead series 2-1)
Listen, if Derrick White is going to be this good all the damn time, I’m gonna want some of my monologue jokes back.
The second-year Spurs guard bodaciously careened through Game 3. The 24-year old’s 36 points were outrageous enough — White refused to take fliers on looks around the basket — his defensive capabilities dragged San Antonio over the top.
Derrick was part of a strong Spur collaboration to yank Jamal Murray out of his warm zones, rendering the Nuggets guard uneasy all evening. Murray reacted to the scrutiny like he was just asked to explain the documentary he pretended to also watch.
Jamal didn’t have much help. Will Barton missed 4-6 shots, his entire form looks different. Gary Harris ran 4-13 from the field and Nikola Jokic’s 22-point, seven-assist, eight-board night didn’t dent like it was supposed to.
Paul Millsap ran a thorn in San Antonio’s side all evening yet his play was never going to push the visitors ‘round a corner. It took the purpose of Denver’s delightful bunch of bench (Malik Beasley hit five threes, pulled nine rebounds, Monte Morris delivered spotless point guard play yet again) to make fertile the fields of play.
San Antonio wanted its salt back. The Spurs lived in the lane all evening, it wasn’t just White.
When initial penetration efforts folded the San Antonio Second Nature slipped into its spring schedule, the offense innately folds into each and every available slotted receptor because these Spurs need this shit to survive.
No Manu, no Timmy, no Parker and no gahdamn bow ties standing around explaining things.
Instead, we bring you TV’s Derrick White:
Confidence resonating, White was asked to step forward and instead he decided to jump up.
Game 4 in San Antonio on Saturday on TNT at 5:30.
IF I EVER LOSE THIS HEAVEN
All the Quincy Jones albums are great, I went and checked.
Thank you for reading, maybe listening! Consider contributing, you won’t regret it.
(More to come.)
Behind the Boxscore, Never Too Much: Clippers wait too late