thirty pawns and fourteen players involved, it stinks the collective in Arizona

Like Fawkes – the phoenix of Albus Dumbledore – the Suns are rising from their ashes. Yet the years leading up to Devin Booker’s arrival in Arizona could not have been more complicated. Indeed, 23 wins and 59 defeats in 2015-16, 24 successes and 58 losses in 2016-17, 21 successes and 61 loses in 2017-18, 19 wins and 63 failures in 2018-19. But the Philly motto seems to have – like a New Zealand variant of Andalusian origin – spread across the country, and the Phoenix process is finally paying off.

The public is always absent and yet, what a furnace this Resort Arena is. Yes, when Damian Lillard and Devin Booker are in the same room, the temperature felt tends to explode towards triple-digit Celsius. Better yet, the two teams that will compete are both part of the Top 5 of the Western Conference, the gratin as we would try to name it. Be careful, it is therefore a very important duel in the race for home advantage. The Blazers can’t count on Jusuf Nurkic, CJ McCollum, Harry Giles and Zach Collins, all from the infirmary. On the Phoenix side, we do not mourn any absent and it is flower to the gun that the entire workforce is going to war. The in-between is balanced and Devin Booker doesn’t give a damn: his wife’s husband drops his best mixtape on poor Gary Trent Jr. by posing 17 points at 6/7 shooting in the first quarter. Absolutely indefensible on isolation, D-Book found the bench to the cheers of his teammates. Opposite, Carmelo Anthony is in legs and in memory of the Madison years, the winger swings his little pull-ups at the post. Lady lights the cabin and sends a first boomer step-back, what a big force this guy. If the insolence brigade passes it is perplexing. Here, Robert Covington eats – once again – a blow to the face and starts to cry like a child who loses his best marble. We will only find him in the second half with a mask on the margoulette (Phoenix 63 – 54 Portland).

Top-level athletes know it, how good it is in a good locker room. The cushioned seats under the butt, the unlimited drinks stand, the showers at good temperature and the masseurs who put on well. It’s so nice that some should stay there, to take advantage but also to avoid eating 37-17 in the third quarter. Far from us the idea of ​​mocking this magnificent team of Portland, simply that this air hole came to close the debates. Cameron Johnson hits the mark in the parking lot, Frank Kaminsky imitates him then suddenly, all at once, Damian Jones flies off and places a semi-poster on Houston’s racket. The last twelve minutes are anecdotal and even if they turn – once again – to the advantage of Phoenix, garbage time enthusiasts are finally having fun. Yes, the fourteen Suns have played and seeing Jevon Carter, Langston Galloway and Abdel Nader on the same floor is surely warm in the heart of the FFGTH (French Federation of Garbage Time and hydroxychloroquine). Finally, the game ends in calm and Devin Booker’s scoresheet cries scandal: 34 points, 4 rebounds and 4 assists at 59% shooting including 2/2 from Yvelines, all in 29 minutes of play. Opposite, Damian Lillard loses the arsonist duel and ends the encounter with 24 units 1/7 of the parking lot. Thus, the Suns keep their fourth place, chain a third consecutive success, and win a match that could be akin to a future first round of Playoffs. But happiness brings despair and Portland loses a second game in a row, necessarily impacted by his absentees.

Devin Booker closes the debates even before the start of the last quarter. What is the point of playing more when you have a player who only needs a few minutes to decide the outcome of the game? We also learn that Damian Lillard can get through a match, something that hadn’t happened for a long time.

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