As if digesting my own defecation wasn't degrading enough, I had to sit through yet another deflating end to yet another disappointing Atlanta Hawks season last night—making the whole poop-eating thing a little less depressing.
Despite snapping a 15-game losing streak in conference semifinal games and winning Game 1 of a second round playoff series for the first time since moving to Atlanta 43 years ago, the Hawks still managed to serve up their own plate of poo in front of a partially-filled Philips Arena.
Unfortunately for those who sacrificed two hours of their lives by tuning in, we were all forced to stomach it.
But haven't we become accustomed to this by now? Should the Hawks getting embarrassed on national television really upset us that much? I know that I won't lose any sleep over it, but I fear that there is a sizable portion of Atlantans that will—and that bothers me.
I usually reserve these weekly columns for heavily opinionated sports banter that unintentionally infuriates most and enlightens few, but I wanted to pull a U-turn and shed some light on a story that everyone can enjoy.
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