You’ve seen the clichéd scene in a zillion medical dramas: the doctor has an emotional attachment to his dying patient. After the patient flatlines, the doc orders the defibulators… and:
“Clear!”… beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. “Clear!!” ….. Beeeeeep! “Clear!” ….. Beeeeeeep.
“Doctor, it’s over!”
“Clear!” …. Beeeeeeeep.
“Doctor!”
“Clear!….. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.”
“Doctor… let go. It’s OVER! We lost him!”
“Clear!….. Beeeeeep!”
“Doctor!”
Well, I am the doctor, and my Wolfies are the patient. I need some nurse to tell me it’s over. I have the defibulator paddles in hand, but I need someone to slap my face and tell me to let go. After yesterday’s loss to the Mav’s—considering the Nuggets’ recent surge—beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
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