I’ll never get back the 90 minutes past my bed time I spent watching David go brain dead against Goliath Tuesday night.

I speak of the Golden State Warriors, an eight-seed leading the mighty Dallas Mavericks 3 games to 1 in an NBA opening round series. I tuned in as the Warriors were making a furious charge to make it a game in the second half. I thought I might see a little drama and history if they could win at Dallas and move on. They only made the playoffs on the last day of the season.

Leading 112-103 with a couple minutes until David’s rock found Goliath’s melon, the whole metaphor went south. The Warriors took four bad shots in a row, stood around like the last minutes of pick up game at the Y, and threw in a turnover for good measure. Meanwhile, Big Dirk hit a couple threes and scored a regular three-point play. It was a 15-0 run for Dallas.

What? I stayed up for this nonsense. How can gazillionaire athletes be in complete control and then lose it like a bunch of third graders in an after school league. They came, they stood, they blew a nine-point lead. They missed their last eight shots, winning the 46-minute game but not the real one. They handled Dallas’ double team like Superman handles a kryptonite clutch pedal.

Granted I’m a little grumpy but I gave up perfectly good rack time to watch Baron Davis et al dominate, then watch as Dallas smoked then for 15 straight points. My hunch is that David, even the friendly confines of the Bay Area, will melt like so many wicked witches, left to ponder what might have happened had they played the last two minutes like they did the first 46 in Game 5.