There were a bunch of shots that fell for the Sixers that I never anticipated for them to hit. DiLeo dusted of Donyell and put him to work after he played a whole seventeen minutes during the regular season. And he put the Magic away like the Golden Sampler appetizer at Applebee's. Him and Theo Ratliff craweled up from the mass grave of washed-up journeymen to bury foolish, disorganized youth. Where there's a Rafer Alston helming your offense, there's a way.
Even Royal Ivey, whose worse at shooting than Chris Duhon, hit a three in a playoff game. This display of the old bulls walking down a hill while the young ones ran illustrates for us the cosmic irony that boggles us. We pretend to know whats going on in the NBA landscape as we obsess over it. Our jaws drop as we see Behemoth Hercules Superman power over lesser mortals only to get slain be ineffectual teammates, a flabby man with a hot trigger, and Iggy's blindfolded Houdini escape.