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I (Still)
Love This Game
By Mich
michelle@insidehoops.net
Oct 18
Fall is in the air. Even though
I live in balmy Florida, I can feel
it. There's a shift in the
humidity, the breeze blows lighter and
cooler, and the sky loses its haze.
Suddenly, the millions of stars
that streak across the northern
hemisphere sky are visible again over
the southern United States.
Orion even shows up again, peaking over the
horizon, and brings with him that
chill of excitement... the kids line up
for school. you start thinking about
Christmas shopping... coats come
out of the closet... the NBA
preseason rolls around again. I don't know
what it is about that crisp air,
but when I feel it all the annoyance of
the offseason disappears.
Memories of players past, games past, hopes
past, come flooding back and I can
stomach-and actually, relish-the
thought of living and dying by another
NBA season.
Don't you get that disgusted feeling
every summer? Another moron
holding out for a contract, another
guy demanding a trade.
"Tim Thomas to sign with Bulls!"
"Tim Thomas officially signs with
Bucks."
"Eddie Jones to sign with Bulls!"
"Eddie Jones officially in a Heat
uniform."
"Glen Rice to sign with Bulls!"
"Glen Rice part of the blockbuster
Ewing trade, officially a Knick."
Please. Enough. Grow
up. Like I care that the Bulls got pooped on
this year (they deserve it after
eliminating the Knicks all those
years). (Editor's note - gee,
I wonder which team this fan supports.)
Like I care that David Falk is a
snake. Like I care that Brian
Grant went on vacation to the Bahamas
before dissing the Knicks. Like I
care that Ray Allen collects pins
at the Sydney Games. Aren't these
guys just big babies? Overgrown
high school jocks? ...I guess having
my team eliminated in six last June
didn't help my mood. Probably only
Lakers fans were cheery this summer.
And Heat fans, although the curse
came back to strike them again.
But now the autumn winds returned
this year to wipe away the bitterness
like they always do. Suddenly
I can stand it when Jeff Van
Du..err..Gundy says something absurd
like "Well the only thing that is
certain is that Larry Johnson will
start at the four." Suddenly,
somewhere deep inside, I actually
want to see Jeff standing on the
sidelines looking like a parrot
with his diet coke again. I wanna see
the old bald Vince that we've all
grown to love with his schoolboy charm
acting the part of golden boy again.
What was that act at the Olympics
all about anyway? I wanna
see Allan Houston actually involved in a game
and not standing clueless on the
3point arc. Drive, Al, drive! Gosh, I
miss that Tim Duncan bank shot,
how long has it been since we've seen
that? I miss Ivy's running
and gunning... heck, I even miss Shaq's
power moves and thunder dunks.
Now that says something. Or maybe there
is something charming about The
Big Lug after all, and I'm just afraid
to admit it. (Let me just
make clear that I do not miss Reggie Miller.
Never have, never will.)
There is something magical about
basketball. No matter how much the
game burns you, no matter how much
the players disappoint you, that fire
still churns. It's like a
drug. Or maybe it's more like family. You
hate their guts at times, but they're
blood. You don't know what you
would do without them. Every
year it's the same old story (at least for
a Knicks fan)-some new soap opera
with the same old themes. This year
will probably be even more screwed
up. But once again, the sun is
setting in that golden rosy way
it does every October. Once again I'm
ready for the journey. I'm
ready for those nights of getting back from
work, shaking the chill off my clothes
and settling down for the game.
Ice cream at halftime. Who
will show up tonight? The Jekkyl Knicks or
the Hyde Knicks? If it's a
Clippers came, I better be ready for some
frustration. If it's against
a potential champion, I might be in for a
great night... or a heartbreaker.
I should learn by now that the Knicks
will never win the Atlantic Division.
I should also learn that they
will always beat the favorite in
the play-offs. But now without Pat,
who knows? Can I not even
assume that much this year? But either way
it's all good. Either I'll
be jumping around the house, reliving every
shot down the stretch, or I'll be
on a walk back out in the darkness,
under those wintry stars.
Walking, wondering why I love this game so
much, and why these millionaires
mean so much to me. Sometimes I decide
it's not worth it and mourn the
hours of my life I have thrown away, but
as soon as the next game comes on
TV, there I am again. As soon as
another season comes around, here
I am again, ready. Naive as ever,
full of infernal optimism, but ready
nonetheless.
Yes, here I am again, reading the
papers, back on the newsgroups,
reading the editorials. I'm
getting excited. I'm counting down the
days to preseason. The drama
is there once again, and once again I'm
getting caught up in it. Will
Portland dominate LA? Will Horace Grant
be the Ho of old under Zenmaster?
How will Pat and Payton get along?
Will Jason Williams show up with
some fundamentals this year? (I'm not
holding my breath.) Will the
Jazz finally be too old? Will the Sixers
implode or explode? The Bucks
have all the potential in the world, but
will their big men get the necessary
job done to make them contenders?
What about the Pacers? Did
they screw up big time or is Donny Walsh a
genius? Will Jalen Rose be
back soon? What about the Heat? Will they
stay healthy? Will Zo ever
fully recover? Will the new-look Magic be contenders
or is the Hill/McGrady combo really
not much different from
Vince/McGrady or Hill/Stack?
Who will be worse, the young Clippers or
the Grant-less Pistons? Will
Vancouver live up to their potential? Can
Kenyon Martin lift the Nets out
of their stay in the Meadowswamp? And I
haven't even mentioned the Spurs,
Celtics, Wiz, Hornets, Warriors,
Wolves, etc., etc. And I thought
last year had drama.
So my journey begins. On October
31, my TV will go on. I'll see Ernie
and Kenny the Jet, Coach Thompson,
Bill "The Dolt" Walton, Marv, Clyde
& Breen, The Czar, and Hubie
"somebody PLEASE get me some new teeth"
Brown. They're all idiots
(well except for Clyde. can't diss that
guy). But I love 'em all.
After all, they will be with me night after
night. Halloween, turn on
the game! Thanksgiving. I'll be putting up
my Christmas tree, and instead of
Christmas music I'll be hearing that
old Marv "Yesssss." Christmas
afternoon, open the gifts, eat the
turkey, watch the game. Spring
'01 semester will start. Valentines
Day. St. Patty's. Easter.
May. Playoffs. Will the Knicks be 2nd,
3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th or 8th seed?
Well that's why I'm putting myself
through all these winter months
of suspense. They'll make it past round
1. They always do. Then
my heart will be broken again and I'll see
another bling bling for the Daddy,
or will it be for the real Daddy, Mr.
Kemp and Co.? Could the Spurs
sneak in, or Miami?
Basketball is bigger than New York,
and it is bigger than whoever wins
the championship. It is a
big picture, 82 games, one season. 15 wins,
one championship. 10 seasons,
one decade, a career gone by. 20 years
and the friends of my childhood
are going into the Hall of Fame.
Somehow I'll have endured it all,
and be better for it. Everything we
do shapes us in some way.
Somehow I'll still be there years from now,
even if I don't follow as closely.
There will always be refs to yell
at, always be great shots that make
jumping off the couch a worthy
exercise. But for now it's
just a small fragment of the big picture.
Training camp. Preseason.
Opening night. October, 2000. It's all the
same, it's all different, it's all
good. I'm back for more, and you
know you are too.
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