Chapter 4

Game Two

Okay, so I'll admit it, thirty minutes into the game and I'm still completely nervous. Oh, the game started off fine, I suppose. Although I must say that for a team facing the prospect of going down 2-0 in a best of seven series (with the next two games in Phoenix!), the Mavericks sure didn't seem like they were all that worried about it.

But trust me, I had enough anxiety for all of us.

"Come on!" I screamed at one point. Early in the first quarter, after giving up the first bucket only twelve seconds into the game, the Mavericks managed to take a short-lived one point game, but then - just as in the last game - they went ice cold. Five minutes later the home team was down 10-3, having missed five straight shots (and throwing in a turnover in the midst of that, just for good measure).

"Oh... is baby having a hard time?" Sandra asked. The lips of her mouth was curled up in an evil grin, and I had no trouble at that point imagining all the embarrassing things I was going to do to her... assuming Dallas would ever play a good game.

"Score the fucking ball!"

And that seemed to do the trick. Dirk drove the lane and dunked over everyone, then - after a couple free throws and a made basket - Dallas warmed up. Josh Howard scored, then Jason Terry, then Howard again, followed by Nowitzki and DeSagana Diop, and suddenly the score was tied.

"You should yell more often," groused Sandra during a time out.

"I know," I said. I blew on my knuckles and rubbed the front of my shirt. "I can't help it, though. I 'm just that good."

"Jerk."

"Besides," I added, willing my ego back to Earth. "Mike D'Antoni is really good after a time out." It was true. It seemed that in the previous series, and in game one of this one, that every time Phoenix got in trouble, all it took was a time out, and things got back on track. "Plus, Nash is never off the floor at the same time as Boris Diaw, so it's like they always have a great point guard on the floor."

"Diaw isn't a point guard," Sandra said.

"I know that," I answered, rolling my eyes. "But have you seen him play? I mean, for goodness sake, last game he had what... a dozen assists?"

Sandra laughed. "I don't think it was that many. Steve had something like sixteen, so I don't think Boris had that many." She grabbed the sports page that was sitting, unopened, on her coffee table. "You were close, though," she laughed. "He had two."

"Okay, whatever. Point is, Boris controls the game when he's in there. He's really good."

"Sure, but he's skinny. He can rebound, but Diop is a big boy. There's a man who knows what to do with his body," she sighed.

"I think I should be offended," I said, trying to look hurt. "Are you implying that I don't know what to do with mine?"

"No! Although, you were naked in my house, and you didn't even try to put a move on me."

"I think you made it perfectly clear there would be none of that," I said. "I believe you said we would not be sleeping together."

"Yet," she said. "I should have said we wouldn't be sleeping together "yet." I didn't want you to get the wrong idea about me!"

"Well... you shouldn't have been so hasty."

"No shit! I mean... I said that before I saw you with your shorts off! Talk about hasty." Sandra put on a little pout, although I think she snuck a glance at my pants, just to check.

"Let that be a lesson to you," I joked. "And stop looking at my dick."

"I wasn't!" Sandra protested. "Besides, he's not all big and angry like before."

"Shut up," I said. "Game's back on."

And to my surprise, the Mavericks kept playing like they wanted to win. Even after the time out, Dallas went on to score three more buckets before Phoenix closed to within four points. Dallas managed only a single free throw the rest of the quarter, but still... it was good.

"Seventeen points," moaned Sandra. "My God, Mark... Phoenix only scored seventeen points in the first quarter!"

"Kind of different from last game, huh?"

"Tell me about it. Phoenix had twice that many in game one. The Suns are in so much trouble tonight... Dallas is actually living up to their nickname and playing defense!"

"Hey, I thought I had the "Big D" in this house."

Sandra glanced over at the front of my trousers and gave a mock sigh. "Not at the moment, unfortunately," she said. "Maybe on Sunday."

"Sunday? Are you giving up on this game already? Come on... there are still three quarters to go. I'm sure the Suns have something left in them. Heck, they'll probably score 35 points in the second quarter."

Unfortunately, I was exactly right. Phoenix came out in the second quarter and made their first five shots. Dallas, on the other hand, was a little bit colder, but somehow managed to hold things together and actually extended to a seven point lead, 41-34, midway through the quarter.

Then things fell apart.

Over the last five and a half minutes of the second quarter, Phoenix could do no wrong. They went on a 18-6 run to finish off the half.

"Motherfucker!" I screamed at the television. "Somebody stop somebody!"

"Sheesh," Sandra said. "Calm down."

"But where the heck is the defense? It's like Dallas is playing their matador defense."

"Huh?"

"You know... it's like they're the matador and Phoenix is the bull. Phoenix runs, full-tilt, down the middle of the lane, and Dallas just waves the red flag as they go by."

"Ole!" screamed Sandra. "Like that?"

"Pretty much."

"Yeah, well Phoenix isn't exactly the Detroit Pistons either, you know."

"Now... that is a true statement!" I laughed. Unlike this series, the Eastern Conference finals were basically a defensive struggle. Heck, the final score of the first round game between Miami and Detroit had been 91-86, in favor of Miami. In game one of this series, Dallas had been leading, 95-91, after only three quarters!

"But I suppose that means Dallas still has a chance to come back," reasoned Sandra, who at the moment seemed none too confident in her Suns. "There's a lot of time to play, and Howard is killing us."