I have to admit, I was pretty frustrated when the Pacers blew an 8-point 4th quarter lead to trail by one point with 4.9 seconds to go. Their offense was doing its best head-in-the-sand impression, what with turnovers, godawful shot selection, and a "please God don't let us lose" attitude. And Jackson -- who was 5 for 19 -- was the main culprit. But give Stephen his due: he came through when it mattered most. And he did it without some desperate heave from 30 feet or a bizarre, hanging, double-clutch, falling-away-from-the-basket prayer. He curled around a screen for a nice, easy layup...gift-wrapped courtesy of my new best friend, Kyle Korver.
On a sort-of-related note, I'm going to call Jackson "Mad Jax" from now on, because that dude always looks angry. Not just angry, but scary angry. Seriously, if he walked by me on the street I'd probably pee myself just on general principle. I think he may win the "Charles Oakley Award" for the player most likely to stalk me in my nightmares.

No comments:
Post a Comment