Miami Heat, tonight you face the greatest and most ominous opponent you have ever encountered in your life. No challenge you've met has ever been more difficult. No enemy has ever been more powerful and no accomplishment, accolade, award, or title you've earned has ever been more important in achieving than overcoming the adversary that awaits you on the court esta noche.
Unfortunately, el pinguo you have to beat doesn't play for the Spurs. Otherwise half of Miami would be nursing tremendo hangover and buying a new set of casuelas right now from celebrating a Heat sweep of the Spurs on Saturday. No, el monstro that stands in your way is infinitely more dangerous, far more familiar and doesn't smell like moth-balls and prune farts on the off-season. His name is doubt, y el hijo de puta lives rent free in your coco, pipo.
Doubt is the only thing that held you back from winning the finals against the Mavs three years ago. Doubt is the culprit responsible for the Chicago Comemierdas ending your record breaking winning streak, and doubt is the only thing that has kept the Spurs from the agony of being swept quicker than Ginobli's massive nostrils pick up the scent of a sweaty culo in a foreclosed condo.
Now is not the time for humility. Now is not the time for meekness or cordiality. Those are the virtues that average men and pencos are bound by. You are lions, and there are no treaties between lions and men! Lions do not suffer from the torment that comes with the fear of ineffectuality. They attack with no regard. With no prudence. And they do so indiscriminately, never once believing they are going to be anything but the victor. This is the fortitude and strength of mind it takes to be successful at anything. To be a true champion among champions. A legend.
Tonight is your test. Don't cloud your mind with the venom of what "may" happen. Visualize and believe with the same certainty that you have that you were born with a pair of testicles, that you WILL be victorious. Take your headphones off for a moment and hear the 20,000 fans singing our victory chant as the fourth quarter buzzer resonates in the every San Antonionas ear like a church bell at the end of a funeral.
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Remember as you stand on that court tonight that no amount of security is ever worth the suffering of a life shackled to a routine that has killed your dreams. Take a focking risk. Plow through those pencos like you've swallowed five doses of Cialis, and the basket is un culo buscando fiesta. But most of all, let the chants of SPURS ARE SOFT and LET'S GO HEAT throughout the night serve as a reminder that there's a city full of loyal fans that have long been convinced of your greatness. They're just there to say they were among the few who were there to witness.
P$ and the people of the 305