(Editor's note: Roy is grieving. As are we all. He just started last night and has already passed through the denial and rage stages.)
We gather here this late Friday night to drunkenly hate-mourn This Weird & Current Pacers Era, which has thankfully passed - having finally succumbed to lupus or mercury poisoning or whatever had been so viciously murdering its insides, nobody really knows - and nobody really cares to.
Let us bow our heads in frustration & exhaustion.
Oh Heavenly Father, let us take solace in the fact that This Era died not in pain, but rather in the comfort of hospice care under the deep, restful numbness of morphine & malaise. Some of its last days were better than others, naturally, but those others seemed hellbent on killing us - through emotional whiplash and stabbing our psyches in the groin, except it was too lazy to finish us off. No, this Current Pacers Era did not give a shit, really, at least in the end. Not a'one. It was ready to go alright; it had been for months. (#DIEDREADY!) Because whatever was eroding its vascular system and ball movement and chemistry was also eroding its will to live. To fight in earnest. Make no mistake, you guys, This Era was quite eager to go softly into the good night of free-agency & trades and a complete organizational overhaul. And so they have.
Lastly, Dear Lord, we are comforted in knowing that This Era died "full of years," just as it is written in the Bible - and by "full of years" I mean "full of Lithium and bath salts(?)" and NOT AT ALL "years," and that may be the biggest tragedy here of all: this Era was an infant, relatively speaking, although it was also an elderly/deranged Korean War vet in many ways too. (It was a confusing Era indeed.) That our last vision of it was the ugly shit-storm of disinterested basketball we saw tonight seems so inevitable and yet so grossly unfair. Of course, the NBA is unfair and so is life, and only five months ago This Era was on pace to become the most likable in memory. Yet here we are, inexplicably - criminally - laying it to rest as the benchmark of unfulfilled promise and distaste. What a goddamn shame. Whatever. Amen. BYE.