On Trading Tony Parker...

Don’t trade him. I beg of you. Why even think such a thing? I don’t care that he sexted Brent Barry’s wife (not cool man). I don’t care that his game is predicated on quickness and that he’s 29 and entering his 11th season having just played the most minutes with the highest usage rate of any Spur. I don’t care because trading Tony Parker would mean that it’s over. The window’s slammed shut. Done for. All nada. D'accord?

It’s a salvo to the league that the last great dynasty of the heretofore 21st century has crumbled. Confirmation that Tim Duncan has finally worn down, his skills eroded, and that Pop plays him 26 minutes a night not out of care, compassion, or creed, but as a crutch. It confirms that Timmy is indeed a 13 and 9 player, an occasional 20-10 gamer, and just a role player.

Why did you give Manu an extension if only to waste his last productive years? Fiercely competitive and a winner by any definition, you know he only wants to win. And it’s still possible! Something may be brewing in NYC and South Beach already has its super team but the Mavericks proved that they can be beaten. Please believe, if just for one more year, that this team has a chance. Please believe so that we may as well.

Where do we go from here? Championship caliber franchise players come along once a decade and it’s unlikely we’ll land the next big name. My entire life has known nothing other than basketball success and now we find ourselves at the threshold of something portentous. But wait! Sidestep that shit and give me one last opportunity to be free. Give me that farewell tour and the time to come to terms with the effects of Father Time and Mother Nature. Let me see what you see before forcing me to take that step. It’s dark in there, and I am afraid there might be no light at the end.  

Legend has it that at the Battle of the Alamo, William B. Travis explained to his troops the overwhelming odds they faced and proceeded to draw a sweeping line in the sand with his sword. To stay and fight, or go quietly into the night. We’re all on the same side. So please, don’t trade Tony Parker, I beg of you. Run this thing into the ground because I am not ready to live in a world where it is an absolute certainty that Manu Ginobili, Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, and Gregg Popovich never again raise the Larry O’Brien trophy. Parades do not float down the Riverwalk. Confetti does not fall. And there will be no dancing in the streets tonight.

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