Spurs 108, Jazz 100

Sunday afternoon marked a rare CSTB field trip to San Antonio — it’s amazing how many guys on highway billboards in that part of the country look exactly like Manu Ginobili.

That Tim Duncan could repeatedly abuse Utah and post up at will was no surprise ; that the Jazz would mount one of the more painstaking, methodical would-be comebacks after being blown out in the 2nd quarter, was a mild shock. Mind you, said initiative largely consisted of the fantastic Deron Williams driving the lane —- until a D.W. trey with less than a minute left, the Jazz didn’t attempt a three pointer during the entire 4th quarter, despite entering the final stanza trailing by 16.

Tim Duncan and Fabricio Oberto did a masterful job shutting down Carlos Boozer, but Utah’s lack of a perimeter game can be placed squarely on the shoulders of the ice cold Memhet Okur and the completely out-of-sorts Andrei Kirilenko. While the former probably didn’t get as many touches as he’d like, AK-47 struggled to create his own shot and appeared weirdly deferential. During a second half that had the Spurs on cruise control for long stretches (and Duncan and Bruce Bowen resting for the end of the 3rd quarter), the game was crying for someone in an ugly turquoise jersey to take the fucker over. Williams seemed the only Utah player up to the challenge.

Though I’m certain the Jazz can muster a better effort in Game Two, I have difficulty imagining how they’ll survive if Duncan is allowed to continue using the paint as his personal playground. And while Spurs-hatin’ has become a sport of sorts around these parts, I am doing my best to find some silver lining in the likelihood of San Antonio’s 4th title in 8 seasons. For instance, mulling over the words, “Jacques Vaughn, World Champion.” Or hoping that another title will give assistant P.J. Carelismo the gumption to finally accept Dick Wolf’s invitation to play himself in a “Law & Order” episode not so loosely based on Peege being strangled by Latrell Sprewell.

Admittedly, I am grasping at straws.

While Owner With A Boner-esque criticisms of San Antonio come far too easily for a secondary market newspaper (just ’cause you lot can marry Jeanne Tripplehorn and Chloe Sevingy is no reason to dump on another city), I’d like to pay homage to one of the burg’s finer cultural landmarks. Not only are the food and margaritas at La Fogata exceptional (the latter so much so, that I almost fogata how to drive) but the Mexican eatery’s Wall Of Fame was one of the finest I’ve seen. Celebrities shown in La Fogata’s picturesque surroundings include Ben Wallace, David Robinson (more than once), Sean Elliot, Jered from the Subway commercials, Ahmad Rashad and Willow Bay.