I am fed up to the gills. And the Miami Heat have yet to play a game that counts. I am sick of the Heat.
Stop calling the Heat hot until they play game
Aren't they awesome? Oh-my-gosh magnificent? Don't you wish you could touch them?
Nauseated yet? I am fed up to the gills. And the Miami Heat have yet to play a game that counts.
I am sick of the Heat.
Sick of their preening and their smoke-filled light shows and the rose petals strewn at their feet. This entire orchestrated production feels like a reality show out of control: The Real Heat of South Beach!
I am not breathless. I am not sleepless in anticipation of all things Miami Heat. Unlike the ESPN website, which has a daily "Heat Index" and two full-time Heat bloggers. And they say there are no new jobs in journalism.
Perhaps I am old-fashioned, but I would like to see them win a title before enshrining them.
Could they win this season? Absolutely. They have two of the top four players in the game - LeBron James and Dwyane Wade - and perhaps three of the top 15 with the addition of Chris Bosh. All three are in their prime: James is 24, Bosh 26, Wade 28.
But super trios are no championship guarantee. The Los Angeles Lakers were thought to be invincible when they added Wilt Chamberlain to Jerry West and Elgin Baylor in 1968. They did not win a title until 1972. Boston won three seasons ago, but Ray Allen, Paul Pierce and Kevin Garnett matched flash with a substance the Heat trio have yet to display.
Why not allow the Heat to show us something before elevating them to sporting Valhalla?