By Garrett Wheeler
Dear Mikael Pietrus,
Boy, have times changed. I can remember when you were just another Warriors youngster, so new to the wonders of America and the NBA. How you tried so hard to show us your gifts- your agility attacking the rim, your three-point prowess, your solid perimeter defense. And we liked you, we really did. Warrior fans talked about how you, along with Al Harrington (yeah, we remember him too) and Monta Ellis (don’t get me started) were going to help lead us to playoff glory, then and in the years to come. But we were wrong, and who can blame us? Morale was high back then. Those were the days when Baron Davis seemed like a godsend from Chris Mullen’s apostle-like throes, and Andres Biedrins had potential like a stripper gone to med school.
But then our beautiful little world came crashing down. First Harrington, then Baron and Barnes, then you…I’m crying inside Mikael, sobbing like a little baby without his bottle. Where did it go? Where did our hopes, our dreams of adequacy vanish to? Crushed. Slammed to the ground like Monta trying to ride a scooter. Hopeless.
Listen, though, Mikael- I’m proud of you. I’m proud that you’re finally getting some attention in the mainstream sports press (was that an exclusive interview I saw during the final Cavs-Magic game?). I’m proud that a former Warriors prospect is blooming into an NBA Finals-ready star. Most of all, I’m proud of the way you fought to guard Lebron James, and how you sunk those dagger threes like only Air-France could.
So good luck to you, Mikael. May you come out of this season with a big-ass ring on your finger and a smile on your face. And hey, whaddya say we talk about re-signing with the W’s when your contract runs out in Orlando? We sure could use a good swingman like you.