Uncle Kiz, you are familiar with the idea of Nugglyfe, no? With the Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder we have in Nuggets Nation, while you guarantee a championship after Game 1 of the NBA Finals, we desperately don’t want to jinx things or count our chickens before they hatch. Because, you know, a sandbag from the ceiling might fall on center Nikola Jokic.
Rob, Nuggets for life
Kiz: Could I be wrong about the Nuggets winning the Finals? Yes, I suppose, if an asteroid hits the earth before Denver registers four victories against Miami. But then we’d have a bigger problems than basketball, eh? I’ve got no problem with fans bashing me for declaring this series against the Heat over after a single game. But hand-wringing about me jinxing the Nuggets, while understandable, is also emblematic of a fan base with an inferiority complex. After decades of playoff frustration, Nuggets Nation has almost as much trouble believing our local NBA team is legitimately great as national basketball pundits do. What’s the best cure for this affliction? A victory parade.
ESPN commentator Kendrick Perkins might be bested only by Nick Wright at Fox for dumb Nuggets takes.
Ben, Sarasota, Fla.
Kiz: Who cares anymore? The Finals are your party, Colorado. Any fan that wastes time by cursing bad takes instead of raising a toast to Jokic? You might be doing it all wrong.
As a lifelong basketball nut from Pittsburgh visiting three of my children in Colorado, I picked up a copy of The Post on the morning of the Finals series-opener. I left the grocery store to Biblical thunder and lightning, with hail pounding the sidewalk. I had to fidget with the lock on my bicycle, because it was one of those days. On the ride home with my groceries, oncoming traffic sprayed water across my face and chest. When I finally arrived home, I doffed off my wet clothes, grabbed a shower and sat down to lunch with your column on the Nuggets’ long wait for a championship. I got emotional as I perused it, reading about the love, loss, adversity and determination all contained in your column, all delivered with a human touch. It was a catharsis from a tough morning.
Bill, loves George Karl
Kiz: I covered my first Nuggets game for The Post in 1983. I’ve been blessed to attend too many NBA Finals games to count, with the privilege of bearing witness to greatness, from Michael Jordan to Kobe Bryant. I’ve never been more delighted, however, to cover the NBA Finals than when a game finally was played right here in Denver, because diehard basketball fans in this dusty old cowtown deserve to experience that championship feeling. Always believed it would happen, sooner or later. But wasn’t certain if I would live to see the day.
And today’s parting shot reveals the secret to my longevity in this crazy business.
I swear Kiz must have some dirt on The Denver Post for the paper to still employ him.
P.R., Paris
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