This morning, cafesitos were quaffed with more than the usual Miami animation. More rosarios were prayed and more promises were made to the almighty last night. The stage is set for a two-game, biblical chapter of Miami history to be written on Biscayne Boulevard.
Sing for Absolution
Miami has found religion once again.
This time, the Trinity is a trio of superstars affectionately invoked by followers as “The Big Three”, surrounded by a brilliant host of player-saints. The pope? A gangster-classy, slick “Don”, Pat Riley, his cardinals Erik Spolestra and the Heat coaching staff.
There’s the obvious things a championship will do for this city. More than once again putting Miami on the international map, swelling local economies, and giving renewed life to a people battered by controversy, tonight is really about absolution. The Heat’s congregation stands to begin its vindication on the national stage – to stoke hate and shut-up the haters – as the city dons its santero-white shirts for tonight’s epic showdown.
Like a Prayer
The players won’t be the only ones psyching themselves up for this game. There’s a legion of fans who are doing the same mirror stare-downs. Listening to their favorite jams as they bustle around the house, making perfect the LCD altar upon which Miami is to be consecrated. Inside and out, the fabric of Miami’s zeal is being tailored for a fierce showing against it’s 10-gallon hat Dallas rivals. “Let them come” many Miamians mutter, as they shadow box their internal Dirk Nowitskis. It’s a real deal Miami Showdown with a twist of hardwood revenge.
The Digitalism offering below montages perfectly with what a Miami Showdown is really all about. Grit and excess, baby.
Enjoy while imagining yourself in a slo-mo rain of champagne and sanguine glory.
The confessional concession booths are full: there will be Dallas blood on the court tonight.
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