A Westie Don't Cry Uncle

Heyadoo Bremerfans,

It's just me, Kiethers, here. Well, two games in and I think the Green and Gold are starting to really gel as a team. We've got a long road ahead if we're planning on taking home any hardware this season but I really feel like we're coming together and playing to our strengths. I mean, sure, we pretty much got our collective nut pouches delivered to us like a fucking Pizza Mia the first half of game 1 and maybe we could've used a little gut fire and hammerdick in the second half of Game 2. But let me remind you of something, friends: A Westie don't cry uncle.

Take a guy like Mark DeBaun, for example. The guy's always getting butt raped in the paint and still he's putting up numbers and making shit happen. If some Martha needs to be laid down flat on his cake-eating ass in order for DeBaun to throw in a game-tying deuce, he makes it happen, Cap'n. And Tilgner...well, don't get me started. These guys are busting up defenses like a high school kegger. It's fucking sick.

Even some of the as-yet underrated guys like Dave Plous are getting in on the action. The Hacksaw stayed true to his name in last week's matchup, bludgeoning the opposition repeatedly in the waning moments of the game during a kind of "berserker" rage one could normally only read about in the great Viking sagas of yore. It's this kind of dedication to the sport that I find so refreshing about this season's squad and is why I remain hopeful for the rest of the schedule.

Don't get me wrong, though. The loss of Zul, not to mention the air of conspiracy he's left in his wake, is going to no doubt affect the locker room. I'm anxious to listen to the full Paul Mitchell Report, as read aloud by actor James Brolin this Sunday night on Sirius 121, to really understand a little more about the whole situation. Right now, I'm just going off internet rumors and what the guys over at the 6-top at Texarkana's were saying earlier this evening. Of course, those meat whistles were just trying to get up my ass from the minute they saw my B-West satin jacket.

Well, I'd better call it a night, Bremerfans. Medium's on in a few. Probably won't catch you courtside for tomorrow night's tilt. Couldn't find any direct flights back to Richmond after 10. I'd have to get a connector in Cincinnati and I'll pound my nuts flat with a wooden mallet before I ever go back to Cincinnati.