The Side Part: The chaotic world we live in

USATSI

1. If you were to walk into a meeting with someone from Paramount Pictures and pitch to them a movie about a basketball team where eight of the fifteen players get injured and they can only play with seven guys for a time, they would ask you to please come back when you have an idea that’s more believable. Something like elephants talking and doing karate, underwater, on Neptune. At this point it’s like there’s almost nothing more to say aside from, “Come ON. For real?” I’m watching these games with a general concern for the physical well-being of the Thunder players. Like, I’m scared for them. Maybe the one benefit of this is that it’s making us a more humane fan base? I don’t know. I’m trying here.

2. Watching these games now I feel myself expecting something bad to happen. It’s as if every time a guy even falls it’s a given that they’ll be out for the next four to six weeks. There are no minor injuries anymore. It’s a wonder a guy hasn’t been decapitated at this point, or at the very least lost an eye. If Steven Adams, the man with the Carharrt skin, gets hurt, I’m just heading to church to live there.

Imagine a very real and potential scenario where another guy goes down and the universe decides, shortly thereafter, to pick that moment to give Collison his first face bleed of the season — we forget how much of an inevitability this is (It’s coming). We could really only have five eligible players for a hot minute. Scott Brooks would be bordering on Gene Hackman territory. Now imagine a time where Reggie is especially Reggie to the point Brooks can’t do it anymore. Perkins is out with an injury — his legs fell off or something — and out on the floor it’s Bass, Adams, Collison, and Lance. Reggie gets up to check in, walks toward the scorer’s table, takes his long-sleeved warm-up off. Hoosiers time.

Where are you going?

Into the game…

Sit down.

Coach, we only have four guys.

Sit down.

Joey Crawford runs up blowing his whistle repeatedly, dancing. He has a neon sign on the front of his shirt that says his name.

Scotty, need a fifth.

Brooks looks at Reggie, then at the court, then at Crawford. He points to the players left on the floor.

My team’s out there.

Joey Crawford pulls out Roman candles and shoots them off around the arena while his new single “Look At Me” plays. Catchy chorus, but the song’s just too long. Pitchfork gives it a 7.3 saying, “intensely lyrical, thoughtful, vocally stunning, but the passive aggressive shots at Duncan miss their mark.”

3. There’s a gif that nobody has made yet of Scott Brooks’ face on Walter White’s body in that SUV in the final few seconds “Ozymandias”, bullets flying every which way. That episode in all its Oh dear God no! Noooooo!!!! was less depressing than this Thunder season thus far.

I could watch forty-eight hours of dog adoption promos with “Angel” playing and be less depressed than I am watching Sebastian Telfair aka Bassy aka The One True Chucker come down and launch another contested three into the abyss. Coney Island is burning. It is completely on fire. It is being burnt to the ground. You will recover none of your personal possessions.

4. Something sad is just one slight degree away from being hilarious. This works the other way, too. It’s why Bill Murray can almost win an Oscar for Lost In Translation. It’s why he should’ve at least been nominated for one for Broken Flowers. Go watch that movie. It’s on Netflix still.

If I was not a Thunder fan I would watch these games purely for the comedy. Truly. There are lineups trotted out there with only one guard and that one guard played in China last year. There are lineups with Serge at the 3. There are lineups where the most viable offensive option is Lance Thomas. There’s everyone’s favorite “We’re one injury away from Kendrick Perkins playing PG” joke. If this was happening to the Mavericks it would be the funniest thing ever. As it is, it’s happening to us, and it sucks.

5. A statistic that proves nothing makes sense at all:

Lance Thomas, his senior year at Duke, on a national championship team, averaged 4.8 ppg. Brian Zoubek averaged more than Thomas did.

Thomas, through five games for the Thunder, is averaging 9.2 ppg.

We live in a random and chaotic universe and nobody is safe.