What’s up, Steph? How’s it going? I know you don’t curse, so let me warn you now that, for this letter I’m writing to you, parental discretion is advised because I’m about to get candid. Like The D.O.C. when he moves like a one-arm bandit.
Sorry, I tend to get off track with old school rap references sometimes. Anyway, I’m writing to see if I can help you wake the fuck up for the rest of the NBA Finals. I mean, seriously, what in the hopeless-wanderer-ghosts-that-we-knew hell has happened to you? See what I did there? I know you’re a huge Mumford and Sons fan. I’m digging deep to try to reach you.
Speaking of Mumford and Sons, can you do me a favor, please, and not listen to them for your pregame jams tonight? Trust me. There are better options out there to get you in the right frame of mind to turn this shit around and start drilling threes in Matthew Dellavedova’s face. Maybe try some Run the Jewels instead. All Due Respect, Sea Legs and Oh My Darling Don’t Cry are good places to start. Or go old school with N.W.A. Not into rap? Try Rage Against the Machine or System of a Down. Just stop listening to Mumford and Sons. I know you’re a nice, easy going guy. But it’s time to try something new so you can go from being the Baby-Face Assassin to a straight Muthafuckin’ Assassin. Word to The Geto Boys.
Like a lot of long-time die-hard fans, I really thought I’d be happy with the Warriors just making it to the Finals. But now that it’s actually here, we’re all like, never mind. We gotta win. This is our best shot. LeBron has no one left on his team. It’s like Jermaine, Jackie and Randy all went down and Michael is left playing with a bunch of Tito’s. If you can’t beat Michael and a bunch of Tito’s, then you will never win a title.
I’ve seen the Ghost of Warriors Fans Past floating around the arena each game ever since you flipped over Trevor Ariza and fell on your head. I really thought the ghost got us that night and our playoff run was over. Then you got up and came back to play. But now that we made it to the Finals, the ghost is back. He’s been drifting alongside the court shaking his chain and swinging his wrecking ball. You might not see him, but us old-school Warriors fans do. We hear him chanting and haunting us as he calls out names like J.B. Carroll, Chris Washburn, Mitch Richmond, Chris Webber, Todd Fuller and Adonal Foyle.
Can you please make sure we don’t hear him chanting “Steph Curry” in a few years? All you gotta do is get your swag back. Get a killer’s mentality like LeBron has, because this is do or die. No need to over analyze anything. Who cares if Dellavedova is going under picks or over picks or below my feet on picks (sorry, that was another attempt at reaching you through a Mumford and Sons reference). The Cavs and Dellavedova aren’t doing anything different or better that you haven’t already seen and destroyed this season. You’ve taken on four Hawks 5-feet beyond the 3-point arc and scored on them. You dribbled through the entire Clippers team, and when Chris Paul had the steal, you yo-yo’d the ball behind your back (or was it between your legs?), jumped behind the line to make sure you’d get an extra point and hit one of the most amazing 3-pointers ever.
This has nothing to do with the Cavs. It’s all about you. It’s all on you. You’re the greatest Warriors any of us has ever seen. Better than Rick Barry. Superior to Chris Mullin. Might even have a slight edge over Erick Dampier. It’s pretty simple – shoot like you normally shoot and you will be an NBA champion. The last 40 years of hell can go to hell along with the Ghost of Warriors Fans Past. LeBron doesn’t matter. The refs don’t matter. A decline in production from Green, Bogut and Barnes doesn’t matter.
It’s all on you Steph. So when you walk into the locker room tonight, toss Mumford and Sons aside and Close Your Eyes and Count to Fuck. Then go out and destroy the Cavs.