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***Now before I start. This is a football and hip-hop site. That’s our niche, but last night’s game and the fact that the series was so entertaining, I had to write this piece which is an ode to gonzo journalism and everything written is extremely fictional.***

It was the longest ten seconds of my life. I took in the moment while Dallas Mavericks fans tried to take me out. I tried to find a safe place in the bleachers, but I was swept into the pandemonium. This was the one time that racial profiling was actually a good thing for me. I was front row and center inside the Dallas Mavericks’ celebration. I guess my dreadlocks and confident demeanor gave security the impression I was a family member of Jason Terry or someone. I wasn’t complaining at all, just watching and taking it all in.

Mark Cuban rushed the court as if there was a chance the Heat could still win the trophy if he wasn’t on the court in time. I was trying to figure out how this guy is worth more than a billion dollars. I went into a brief trance of imagining Cuban on the local Miami news station’s telecast during the weather segment and making it rain while King of Diamonds strippers flooded the set and congratulated Cuban with ass claps.

I snapped out of my fantasy when Dirk Nowitzki walked right past me and shook my hand. I wasn’t expecting that at all, because I was still in my zone making a booty spanking motion with my hand.

Dirk only dapped me up, and left the entire Miami Heat team hanging. He told reporters that he needed a moment alone to cry. That was a lie, because he told me at Club LIV later that night he was sick with Championship Fever and didn’t want to spread his germs to Dwayne Wade and Lebron James. On the podium, he held the Finals MVP trophy like an unwanted Christmas present. He wanted the gold, the gold ball that is the Larry O’Brien trophy that he debo’d from King James. The expression on his face went from happy as hell to disbelief when the trophy was in his German grasp.

I noticed Jason Terry trying to do the Dallas Boggie aka The Dougie. The dance that originated in Dallas, but was then stolen by a California rap group that shall remain nameless. No one joined him, so he started doing his famous “jet” celebration. He caught the eye of Lebron James and showed some class as he stopped his celebration and sauntered over to shake hands with the King. I was close enough to hear Terry whisper to James,

“Great series”. The Jet then thought to himself…”but not great enough”. I didn’t hear him say it. I just read the freshly inked tattoo on his neck. I’m still trying to figure out how he got it done so fast, because the game had just ended.

The Dallas contingency was getting rowdy, so I had to move around. I saw Chris Bosh crying. I felt bad, then I remember he’s a 6’11” grown ass man. He just kept mumbling, “It hurts so bad”. I was appalled, but certainly not surprised.

I was looking for Lebron James and Dwayne Wade, but couldn’t find them. I checked my Twitter page and my mentions were out of this world. People saw me on the court and wondered how the hell I was on the floor with the Mavs. I checked the trending topics in Cleveland only to see,

#TheKingwithNoRing
#TheChosenOne….toLOSE
#WeknowwesuckbutLebronswallowsdefeat

Don’t ask, but my fourth cousin is Dan Gilbert’s maid. You know Dan Gilbert, the owner of the Cleveland Cavaliers, who types like THIS WHEN HE’S REALLY MAD. Either way, my cousin said Gilbert was really upset that Miami lost. He was mad because he couldn’t buy a seat to the game. Apparently, a bunch of black rapper mogul looking guys wearing red, diamond grilled, and tattooed faces wearing Young Money Cash Money shirts bought all the courtside seats.

Dwayne Wade was really upset. I took lip reading as my foreign language in college and was able to make out what he was saying as he left the court,

“This fool, disappeared in the fourth quarter AGAIN! How the hell do you average 3 pts in the 4th qtr of the NBA Finals!!!”

I bent over to tie my shoe when I saw Lebron James headed in my direction. Worldwide Wes was right beside him. I introduced myself to Wes as, Round the Way Rich, but he wasn’t having it. I tried to follow them, but Wes quickly saw David Stern and gave him a weird head nod. Before I knew it, David Stern, the NBA commissioner, was in my face.

He asked me what I was doing on the court. I asked him about the lockout that was looming, and he quickly left me alone. He had a look of worry on his face. As if he knew this was the last game that was going to be played for a very long time.

Dallas looked so happy on the stage. I kept wandering around seeing different players being interviewed. I then found myself at the press conference, when I was just looking for the restroom. Lebron looked dejected. You could just see the “closed for business” signs go up on both sides of his temples as his hairline evacuated as if a Category 5 Miami hurricane was on the way. I wish that kind of stress on no man.

I partied in LIV with the Mavericks afterwards. You can ask me how later, because I have to wrap up this article soon. I noticed the sheer irony of the Mavericks winning on the Heat’s home court. Taking the trophy out of the Heat’s arena and partying in Miami like they owned the city. Mark Cuban’s tab was well over 200K. Someone tried to go bottle for bottle with him on bottle service. Big mistake. Apparently, Ace of Spades makes bottles in a large midget size, because that’s what Cuban ordered for Dirk. Last thing I remember, was how J.J. Barea would not stop talking. He just kept going on about how this was the greatest day of his life. It was the Puerto Rican Day parade in NYC and that he won an NBA title on the same day.

That’s all I got,

Ricky Writer

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