The Hornets lost to the Atlanta Hawks 103-76 last night in a game that definitely happened. I should know, as I’m pretty sure I watched it whatever that was. Anyway, I’m glad you’re here, we have a lot to talk about! Now that the season is done, we can finally begin calculating precisely where the Hornets stand with exactly zero games left to play:
Wow— if these calculations are correct, I have no idea what to write here.
Look, I watched that game, and if you did too, then... I don't know what to say. Go seek help. I’m telling you this as a friend, as a concerned friend that can no longer bear to see you like this. I can't watch you tear yourself apart like this. Its too late for me, but you... there’s still hope for you. GO!! GO LIVE, DAMNIT!!!
Sorry about that. This is the part of the recap where I would give you some stats, box score figures, key plays, etc. I’m not going to do that; not because the game was a blowout, or because Kemba didn't even play, or because it was for all intents and purposes a meaningless exhibition and very possibly the single most bland matchup of the year (seriously, Kemba-less Hornets vs. the Atlanta Haaaaaaaaaaaww— sorry I started yawning, what was I talking about? oh yeah...) not because I’m lazy and just don't want to write about it. No, the reason I’m not going to put game stats in here is for one reason and one reason only: Because I am lazy and just don't want to write about it. Wait— ah crap.
The story of the game was how long it took me to come up with this tweet:
Charlotte and Atlanta are connected by I-85 which is fitting because we are also straight up collapsing here— At The Hive (@At_The_Hive) April 12, 2017
Unacceptable. I mean, I thought of that with 0:36 left in the fourth. If I had thought of that at say, the end of the third? Or halftime? Or way before the game when they announced that Kemba wasn't playing? Or a few days ago when we were FINALLY, mercifully, put out of our “playoff hopes” misery? Pssssh, I could've just put a pair of sunglasses and a bucket hat on that tweet and been sittin’ my butt down next to a cool Marg at the Myrtle Beach Señor Frog’s.
That’s the closest I’ve ever come to this moment from Ferris Bueller’s, and I squandered it.
I swear to you I cannot conjure up the energy necessary to write anything about the what happened in this game. But I will do the bare minimum. I’ll do my due diligence. I owe y'all at least that much. Here’s a peak at the box score from the game— draw your own conclusion:
Alright but seriously here are the raw numbers:
That’s it. We are post-singularity. That’s what a basketball box score looks like once the cold, sterile efficiency of computer program is in charge of our society. I for one welcome our new overlords.
So that’s it, the last game of the season, and with its passing I hereby strip myself of all land and titles and begin to grow the patchiest of beards to embark on an arduous vision quest to a remote, unassailable mountain, where upon climbing I will find an ornate monastery housing members an ancient brotherhood of assassins that will teach me if I make myself more than just a man, if I devote myself to an ideal, I become something else entirely.
Actually I’ll probably just hang out here and post a stupid video tomorrow.