Down the street from my apartment, there is a company that advertises fried chicken and pizza. While it's obvious to most that one should never eat either fried chicken or pizza from a place that claims to specialize in both, my roommate and I were desperate to have fried chicken delivered to our doorstep. This was a mistake, and not one we will ever make again.
Also, we should have known the food, in general would be terrible since the company did not spell the foods themselves correctly, speak English enough to know that chicken was being ordered over the phone, and had no idea that they had advertised credit cards being accepted on their menu. All perfectly fine reasons not to order their food. Yet, we did it anyway. It was an unmitigated disaster, yes, but it was something we had to learn.
Alas, I cannot be angry at a lineup that includes Perkins, Glen Davis and Leon Powe trying to vie for the worst interior spacing in the history of modern basketball. I should not balk at the idea of having three different big men in the game while Eddie House defended Chauncey Billups (a known Celtics killer). I honestly can't get mad. Because I get it. The rebounding and hustle trio is too tempting an idea: three hungry (albiet slow-footed for 2/3 of them) players looking to dominate the paint and the glass. I get that. As a coach for a team that was underacheiving for the game, you wanted energy from the players. Something to spark the first unit. That's understandable.
But, now, Doc, you've eaten the chicken and it tastyed terrible. Please refrain from calling that number again. My sanity and love of good basketball is at stake. Not to mention my want of Celtics basketball, because I could just as easily watch the Warriors in a more entertaining fashion. Learn that lesson and mve on, Doc. My reality can't withstand a compund confused big man complex. It just won't work.