Tonight pits a "win-or-chill-at-home" match up between two members of the 2008 Olympic "Redeem Team" - Carmelo Anthony of the Denver Nuggets and Kobe Bryant of the L.A. Lakers. 

And I'm pumped.  I'm even selfish enough to miss the first part of my girlfriend's 30^th birthday party to make sure I get to watch the game (with her permission of course).

But yeah, I'm that much of a basketball fan.  Or fanatic if you will.  And after living the last seven years in Colorado, I've finally consummated my relationship with the Denver Nuggets basketball team and become an official fan of the franchise.  (And by consummate, I mean I bought a Nuggets t-shirt and where it while I watch their games on television.  Nothing naughty or deplorable, get your mind out of the gutter people!)

I probably take the hour drive to Denver at least ten times a year to catch a Nuggets home game.  Luckily, I have a connect (with thanks to Mama Sherry VonRiesen) who helps me get awesome tickets at a great discount.  And after the Nuggets traded Allen Iverson for hometown hero Chauncey Billups earlier this season, I really took to the team.  I slowly went from distant observer to a fan of the team over the course of the season.  And now I'm sold.  I've bought into the hype.  I love Melo's over all game, Chauncey's swagger, K-Mart's team toughness, and Chris Anderson's hustle.  Yes, I am even an official "Birdman" fan on Facebook.  Friends can always hear me loudly debating Anderson's skills in my office and the dining hall to non-believers.  And I always manage to help them see the light.

So when four tickets to last week's Game 3 of the NBA's Western Conference Finals opened up, I jumped at the chance to take them.  Sure, they were $200 a pop.  But it was for the NBA PLAYOFFS!  There was no way I was going to pass them up.  It didn't hurt that the tickets were for a box suite either.  Working at the CS-OTC is really sweet.

The only real question was who would be my guests?  Having an extra playoff ticket is like Charlie having the golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory.  I couldn't just take anyone.  The guest had to be someone special. They had to be someone who would enjoy and appreciate the experience of being at an NBA playoff game at least half as much as me - which is still A LOT! 

Two people quickly came to mind - my girlfriend who has always been a basketball and general sports fan, but even more so after dating me (she works for USA Shooting by the way); and my main man and arguably the best basketball player on the International Triathlon Union circuit, Mark Fretta. But that left us with one ticket left... After racking our brains for half an hour, Mark, who I like to call Fab 5 Fretta (after urban art impresario Fab 5 Freddy, not the guys from Bravo's Queer Eye for the Straight Guy), decided. There was only one person who purportedly appreciated pro sports as much as us and would send the weekend over the top - yeah, Michael Phelps. Even though mum's the word on his training at the CS-OTC, it seems like the most poorly kept secret after several national media outlets announced that his team would be working out here.

In any case, how fun would it be to hang out in a box suite with good friends, arguably the most popular athlete in the world in Phelps, and catch a heated playoff game between Kobe and Carmelo at their best?  I was as giddy as a contestant on Paris Hilton's terrible show "My New BFF." 

With the help of Mama Sherry, Mark waited for Phelps to get out of practice to ask if he would like to join us for the game.  Meanwhile, I purchased the tickets.  After waiting for a bit, Mark finally caught up with one of the assistant coaches he knew personally and presented the invitation.  Once word got to Phelps, the reply we got back was that he was in (awesome!), buuuuut his coach Bob Bowman had approve the outing since he would be missing a practice (drag!). 

Since it was 24 hours until tip-off, we figured we could give Team Phelps time to think on it. In the meantime and in between time, we tried to shore-up a plan b (which in my opinion was probably going to be plan a). With that, Fab 5 Fretta enlisted one of his female teammates, Sarah Groff, or as he affectionately calls her "The Groffster." Earlier in the day, we three had a spirited conversation about the merits of baseball - and she held her own in the conversation. So The Groffster wasn't your average tri-geek. She's a chica who often sports a Philly's cap and knows the significance of a playoff game. Like The Godfather at his daughter's wedding, I gave her my blessing.  Now the plan was to give Team Phelps until 2 PM the following day. Meanwhile, The Groffster was sending slightly demeaning texts about Phelps to Fretta (all in jest of course!) in hopes of swaying him to take her to the game. Little did she know, all she really needed to promise was the hint of a goodnight kiss...then again, maybe she knew that and that's why she didn't. Hmmmm...things to ponder.

Two o'clock rolls around and we get stood-up for prom by Team Phelps.  Understandably, he's here to train.  He and his teammates are grinding three workouts a day - plus he already had his fun during the off-season, with his out-of-the-pool activities pointlessly discussed to death.  But I could care less, I was too pumped about the game and getting the chance to watch from a box suite!  Plus I knew I was getting a kiss at the end of the night.

By 4:30, we were on the road to Denver and psyched.  I was glad The Groffster joined us.  After all, how often is she going to get an oppportunity like this?

Even though the game started at 6:30, Fretta and I wanted to get there early so that we had the chance to hang out in what we call "The Playas' Club" since box suites are club level seating.  That level is sectioned off from the rest of the Pepsi Center and the lines for food and bathroom are minimal.  It's fantastic.  It's grandiose.  It's pimptastic.  It's how we roll.       

And we rolled with the swagger of a socially inept teenager. We were Anne Hathaway at the beginning of the Princess Diaries. We had a VIP parking pass and got to walk in through the VIP entrance, and we squealed with delight. We walked into our suite 25 minutes before tip-off and were the first folks to arrive. And we screamed like the guys and girls in the Heineken commercial who have the specially built shoe closet and walk-in Heineken fridge. But we didn't care how we looked. We were ready to see a great playoff game.

 And we were given a show.  Kobe submitted a classic assassination that Michael Jordan and Larry Bird would be proud of.  Basketball games in person are completely different from games on TV.  You don't here expert analysis.  You're not swayed by the interpretations of the half-time reporters or the in-game announcers and you don't feel like the games drags on because of extended timeouts and numerous fouls.  You're caught up in the excitement of the crowd and the natural flow of the game. 

And with 20,000 people screaming with glee, I thought the Nuggets had the game in the bag after J.R. Smith nailed a three to close out the third quarter and extend the team's lead.

But that's when the Black Mamba struck (a name Kobe stole from the Kill Bill movies, but I ain't hating on him, ok maybe a little).  He didn't kill the Nuggets quickly - his assault on the team was viciously cold and methodical.  He quietly snuck up and dominated the 4^th quarter of the game, hitting three's at spirit crushing moments, then racking up more points at the free throw line. It was interesting watching his stat line climb in the fourth - starting in the twenties and inching its way up to finish at 41 total points. 

It was one of those nights where you watch the game live and you understand that Kobe is dominating, that he is the best player on the court playing within the team concept, but are completely surprised when you see how many points he finished with.  It was impressive to say the least. 

And being the newly crowned Nugget fan, supported by friends from the OTC cheering loudly, a filled box suite with screaming fans, and a sold-out Pepsi Center of Birdman fanatics, it's needless to say the atmosphere was deflated when the Nuggets fell apart and lost. As the arena emptied, our group sat quietly and wondered how they let it slip away and cursed the otherworldly skills of Kobe Bryant.

 Regardless of how upset we were, we were certainly extatic to have had the opportunity to be there.  It was amazing to be able to watch an incredible playoff game.  It was ridiculous to have the chance to watch it in a box suite.  It was hilarious that as excited we were to be in the box, the regulars of the box were excited to have the chance to watch the game with folks from the Olympic Training Center.  These are the facts, and they are indisputable.  What a night.  I can't imagine what it would have been like to have had Phelps with us, but honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way - other than with a Nuggets win. 

But as we are hours from Game 6, there is still hope for Carmelo and his troubadours to win the series and beat the odds.  Go to work Carmelo and best of luck to the Nuggets!