I sit here at my desk on a snowy and dreadful afternoon in my region of the country and look forward to what will unfold later this evening. Myself, along with the fully capable assistance of the Bad Baby Sobottka and THE Nelzone, will be consuming enough calories and malted hops to sustain the Romanian Army. This makes us happy.
What isn’t good for us often makes us happy. Alcohol, fast food, fucked-in-the-head girlfriends, re-runs of “Good Times”…
… NBA basketball.
The grain of salt is heavy in my hand as I mention the “association”. I do consider it a sport. I do consider it a big part of our national sporting landscape if not our culture’s landscape, but in truth, I take it for what it is. Entertainment.
True, all sports are a form of entertainment, but the NBA is a special beast. Gone are the days of fundamentals and team spirit, here are the days of overgrown superstars who force their way into whatever situation they want.
Please don’t misunderstand me. I love what the NBA has to offer, I just think it’s spread too thin. This league would be better off being MUCH smaller, but that is an argument for a different day. What it offers to me is something simple. I prefer to liken it to people becoming drones in front of their televisions and watch hour upon hour of “reality” programming. It is when you get right down to it, mindless entertainment. Sure, there is going to be a winner and a loser, a score when the final buzzer sounds, competition with rules and whistles, but to be truly honest with yourself you have to take the NBA for what it’s worth.
So, tonight when we come pulling into the slush covered parking lot of our local establishment that serves us gigantic beer glasses and nearly too-good-to-be-true boneless chicken wings, we will saddle up, get tore up, and watch as the scores go up. To us, the NBA is exactly what we expect it to be…
…the sexy, alcoholic, reality and “Good Times” lovin’ fucked-in-the-head girlfriend that we have always wanted, and enjoyed.