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Over? What do you mean the Mystics’ season is almost over? For the first time in many sad, sad years, I’ve been genuinely thrilled with both the on- and off-court actions of a professional basketball team in D.C., and now you’re saying this season has one game left? But you don’t understand: There I was—with my Cheetos-stained fist raised to the heavens and my Funyun-strained heart beating wildly—watching wide-eyed as WNBA rookie phenom Chamique Holdsclaw (pictured, with ball) and the rest of the underdog Mystics edged out the Lisa Leslie-led L.A. Sparks last Saturday. How could I not get hooked? The usually morguelike MCI Center was a-rockin’, the hometown victors were a-hoppin’, and the playoffs—when’s the last time someone muttered that word in the District?—were still a reality. Every year, I buy into the Wizards’ bullshit brigade, foolishly believing that the bunch of overpaid schlubs is “just a big man away” from a goddamn dynasty. My guy pals think I’m lame for digging the female hoopsters—no skills, they gruff; sloppy play, they whine—but who cares? My vote is in: Even though the Mystics again failed to reach the postseason, what the team provides is a natural high, and what the players, coaches, and fans display on their faces game after game is—bite me, Juwan Howard—pure, unadulterated joy. Join me in screaming “Men suck!” when the Mystics take on the Minnesota Lynx at 7 p.m. Saturday, Aug. 21, at the MCI Center, 7th & F Streets NW. $8-$25. (202) 661-5050. (Sean Daly)