Way back in game 3, I remember feeling like we’d reached the end of an emotional roller coaster. The Sixers were well on their way to their second straight win over Toronto. Then it happened. Joel Embiid threw down a windmill and the wind got knocked out of me. I’m not a killjoy, but I had a sinking feeling that once Toronto tied up the series, that lone highlight could be the defining moment of overconfidence the Raptors needed to rally around. Then they won game 4, a game that the Sixers flat out blew. Then tonight happened. People seemed surprised that Toronto could exert their dominance over Philly, as if the previous 14 matchups over the past seven years meant nothing. Just when you thought tonight’s 125-89 drubbing wasn’t bad enough, this happened:

Freaking Drake, man. He’s like that pimple at the end of your nose. Sometimes you notice it developing under your skin, and every once in a while it pops out. Here’s hoping the Sixers win game 6, so that upon returning to Toronto, Boban can go Gregor Clegane on Toronto’s viper.