ThisEmptyChair

There is quiet and there is quiet. There is the quiet of a graveyard at midnight—nothing but whispers of sad somber breeze slithering in between tombstones, dusty wax and burnt out candles that occasionally decide to stir fallen leaves and sleepy tress; and there is the split-second quiet following an angry crack of lightning, or that passing moment of silence shadowing a black out. There is quiet and there is quiet, Ana. There is the quiet of a volcano masking its mounting fury. There is the predatory quiet of rattle snakes on a hunt. There is the quiet countdown of time bombs before inflicting indiscriminate violent force upon anything in its path. There is the quiet gloom in the air and the skies that herald an unstoppable nagging from an irritated weather. There is the quiet of a playful puppy unwell. There is the quiet of a trusty car radio broken. There is the quiet of a sneaky burglar moving about cat-like in the dark. There is the quiet static of a dropped call. There is the quiet of a boisterous church bell before and after mass. There is the solemn quiet of the earth ready to rest at dusk. There is the sudden ominous quiet of songbirds.

There is quiet and there is quiet, Ana. Some of which I understand, some I long to understand.

-paeng

10:55am, 29 May 2006

my quiet room

Posted by: ThisEmptyChair / 11:50 AM 0 comments

The King. The Prince. Last Battle at The Palace. A Royal Match. Game Seven of the 2^nd Round 05-06 NBA Playoffs.

This (very early) morning I saw the otherwise quiet Tayshaun Prince run over and demolish King James and his Cavaliers at The Palace for a 79-61 victory. The Cavs didn’t break the 60-point mark until the dying seconds of the game—aka, garbage time. James’ 27 points, 8 rebounds, and 2 assists was all for naught as only one other Cavs scored double digits (Hughes, 10 points). Now that is D-E-F-E-N-S-E, my friends. Down 3-2 after an upstart series, the Pistons needed to recompose themselves to snag the last two games of what most thought would be clean murder. The King, who as of yet is without a legitimate crown nor throne has been emphatically denied of such, thanks to the valiant heroics of our Prince. Tayshaun ( 20 points, 7 rebounds, 3 assists) inflicted most of Game 7 damages doing everything from contesting shots, to ripping the boards, to dishing it out, to draining the hoops. Four other Pistons chalked double-digit scores.

But I have to give credit where it is rightfully due. LeBron, young as he is, will be king one day. His talent is as dumbfounding as it is mind-blowing. His stats (look it up, my doubting Thomases) this early says it all. He will be king. But not this soon. Not just yet. But he will. Despite his age, he single-handedly carried his team throughout the Playoffs, shining right on cue when the Cavs needed him to, and he will be doing much of that in years to come. The Boy-King, for his Cavaliers, wrangled with Prince and his Pistons (as he did against the Wizards) but failed short in this Last Battle in the Second Round. The Motor City boys, he found out, eat unfathomable pressures for breakfast and he had to learn this bitter lesson the hard way. As Rip Hamilton summed it, “If it ain’t tight, it ain’t right.” Oh, but learn his lessons James will, and pretty soon the rest of the NBA (My Pistons included, I admit) will be scratching their heads helplessly before (or is it at the feet of?) this juggernaut. I only wish he tread the humble path of the Great Ones (Bird’s, Magic’s, Jordan’s) and not that of Kobe the Cocky Ball-hog.

Back to my Pistons. Well, they got sluggish in this series. Over-confident, perhaps. Honestly, I thank the Cavs for giving My Pistons the cold shower and the fire in their seats. As Teban, my analytical friend said, “they are sleepwalking their way to The Finals.” Much thanks to the young king, Sheed had to swallow what he spat after they got an uppercut in Game 5. Coach Flip must have flipped out but he regrouped his boys just in time. Pistons oiled their defense slick enough for a good clamp in Game 6 and even better in Game 7.

I express gratitude to the basketball gods for the rise of Hunter and McDyess. These veterans might not have been making the headlines regularly but boy they know when to step it up. Yes, and Delk is earning his minutes as well. And Rip? Rip is now where Prince was a year ago—at the backstage, sniping at the enemies in silence. I miss his catch-and-shoots, though. Even so, before this year’s quest for The Crown is over, I’m sure he’ll get his rhythm back and set the games on fire. And Billups? He’s there. I know he’s there. His free-throws still send shivers down enemies’ spines. Big Ben? He might not have the precision of Billups at the line but this monster’s timing is still clockwork in sending back the ball to its origin and in ripping it from the air. Yes, he made James rethink his shots so many times in this series. No questions about it, he is still The Great Wall of Defense. Sheed? Well, he has to learn how to make his game do the talking from now on because, goodness, it has all the god-given right to do so.

The Bad Boys of the East will meet the Miami Heat in Round 3. The only person in Miami hungrier than Shaq is Wade—who, like James, is not without profound talent as well. Apparently, the bloodbath did not end with the Cavs but started there. Oh, boy, what a series this will be.

I can almost hear Drowning Pool growling, “Let the bodies hit the floor!!!”

--paeng
22may06
my furnace of a room

Posted by: ThisEmptyChair / 9:26 AM 0 comments