Alright, Ladies and Gentlemen. The time is now. We are back in our house, where we are undefeated this post-season. We must be focused, and determined. We must play smart, aggressive basketball for 48 minutes. We must never let up. This isn't just about rings; its about pride. Its about looking into the eyes of our greatest rival and refusing to be intimidated. Our rival is young, talented, and deep. Our rival is commanded by one of the greatest basketball minds not just of this generation but of any. Our rival is beyond confident; our rival is cocky. And our rival is led on the hardwood by the most inventive, egotistical and cold-blooded player in the game today.
But we are the defending champions. We remain the team to beat. We are led by one of the greatest basketball minds not just of this generation but of any. We are a collection of men whose hunger for victory knows no bounds. We are Promethean in our style and Caesarian in our dominance. We are a dynasty, and just beyond the city walls lurks an irreverent band of barbarians looking to take our place. And although the entire world may hungrily await our demise, we are unswayed by public opinion and unhindered by the wild emotions characteristic of a team who hasn't been here before. This is a road we have traveled many times, and we must proceed without fear. We must reach down and discover the cold ferocity that has smothered the ambition of so many young warriors time and time again. Rise up, San Antonio. For 48 minutes, let's give'm hell.