BASKETBALL JONES

N.B.A. Needs Drastically Different Approach – NY Times

The year is 2010 and winter’s cold clutches have just begun to take a hold of the concrete jungle known as New York City. The first of many major snow storms has not yet made its way to the Empire State, but the trees are gathering frost and New Yorkers are already donning their winter gear, hunched over, backs weighed down by the biting chill, huddling inside Upper East Side cafés, Midtown grills and Village sports bars. A passer-by rushes to the F train on Ludlow Street, and witnesses, as a door swings open to let out weekday bar patrons, an aberration. A raucous cheer originating from a testosterone-hyped population of beer guzzlers and onion ring dippers inside, almost deafening to the eerily hushed Wednesday streets of the Lower East Side tonight. The anomaly does not reside in the disorderly nature of this gathering, in fact quite appropriate for New York inebriation. Rather, the curiosity lies in the context. It is two days too late for football, and the San Francisco Giants have long since closed out the World Series. Instead, the New York Knicks are playing and have managed to attract a bar crowd for the first time since God first sent George II on a crusade to the land of ‘now you see them now you don’t’ WMDs. Tonight, the Boston Celtics, a premiere juggernaut of a team in the NBA are in town, the score has been close all game and it has now come down to the remaining minutes trickling down in the fourth quarter. Amar’e Stoudemire, the 6’10” versatile big man, who much to the delight of Big Apple basketball fans has hoisted the Knicks on his shoulders to shepherd them back to ‘relevance’ for the first time in almost a decade, has just tied the game after executing a 360° spin move in mid-air. He pounds his chest and looks to the New York crowd for acclamation. They are happy to oblige. They smell blood. They like it. They want more. Avid Knick fans have congregated around the city in establishments that for years chose to play music videos on their televisions rather than depress their customers with the unflattering and awkward play of the New York Knickerbockers. Now they are on their feet, brandishing their fists in the air whilst eagerly exchanging views on the way the game is played today as well as what the future holds for their precious team. They beam with every hop-step, holler at every dunk and grimace with every missed opportunity. Having laid dormant for so long, curled up in a ball whimpering for the better part of the new millennium, the inner fanatic in each and every one finally witnesses a glimpse of recompense for years of patience and oft dogmatic persistence. Finally, dignity on the hardwood floor, how we’d missed you.

As the holiday season signals its approach this year with early-bird Hanukah shopping and premature Christmas decorations, Madison Square Garden, home of the New York Knicks, is conspicuous by the absence of sounds usually made by sneaker squeaks, net swishes, and the eternal dance of the finicky basketball leaving its master’s hand only to return moments later. Only the scrapes and thumps of ice skates and hockey sticks contribute to MSG’s melody this year. Players and owners of the National Basketball Association are interlocked in a tense battle effectively pitting millionaires versus billionaires to decide who gets how much money, and for how long of course. The debate resides in the fact that “small-market” teams (Milwaukee anyone?) are unable to contend with their larger market brethren, which maintain the financial freedom to pay top dollar to attract the players who further attract more $$$ even in this period of economic downturns. Owners want to make their teams profitable. Players demand a larger share of the profits to compensate them for being the actual product, without which there is no profit to be had. Almost a quarter of the season will soon have been cancelled with no resolution in sight. The real losers however, are the fans, not to mention the thousands of employees in arenas and offices whose livelihood depends on the NBA. Both parties continue to argue over revenue (among other system issues), which rests in our pockets for the time being. Fans, who essentially fund the entire sport, are asked to tolerate the current stand-by while both sides decide who in these times of pink slips and bankruptcies will hoard their collective millions. Meanwhile, Knick fans can bask in the glory of that one year, when their team became pertinent once again, even appearing on National TV on a handful of occasions, but now unable to capitalize on their momentum. Tragically, in bars throughout the city, they will once again be subject to baseball and Rihanna videos. The alternative though does exist of just getting drunk.

Note-worthy: ““If you took the 14 top guys on the road, they’ll make as much money as their salaries,” Stoute said. “They’ll sell out every arena in the world. These guys are playing pickup basketball games, they’re sitting around thinking about playing these basketball games. If they turned that into a business model, they wouldn’t need their salaries — they would trump their salaries.””

DEAR JOHN

I will allow myself to open an introspective parenthesis, which may in effect never be closed, thematic shackles be damned. The world is said to be our oyster and yet it is equally common to infer that there are no such things as one-man armies. St. Paul campers and Wall Street lingerers are dismissed as misguided and ultimately pointless attempts at challenging the established order. The alternative lies in adhering to and pursuing the status quo, guaranteed to provide happiness in all its manifestations, liquid and material assets combined, with a probable bonus of female/male companionship. We define ourselves through the infinite amount of variables that exist in our surroundings at the microcosmic levels of society, through the cultural idiosyncrasies infused in us with each waking breath to the tune our mothers hum while indulging your culinary favorites, the time your dad told you he couldn’t ride that bike for you, the Batman costume you wore on your 3rd Halloween that made you feel you could own the world (and got you the most impressive candy score on the block). As these moments shape our persona, thus do we form our opinions regarding the global happenings communicated to us through newspapers, television or the town crier. As mirrors reflecting what the world provides us with: a system seemingly unshakeable in its unwaverability, one which no doubt leaves many fulfilled but inexhorably so much more morally, mentally and physically destitute, we hold little power over world-shaping events, and are tailored to accept this lack of leverage. My choices for Presidential primary candidates should not be limited to whom CNN has chosen to invite to their admittedly highly entertaining debates. However, the focal point should reside more in analyzing the alternatives one can have beyond joining ‘the 99%’.

I have, for the better part of my time since having achieved puberty, been utterly disappointed with what ‘Life’ has brought to the negotiating table. My unwillingness to ‘take a deal, that is to conform to a given track, a luxury many cannot afford and one that does not make me remarkable in the least, has had the foreseeable consequence of trailing my peers. The refusal to adhere is one that bears obligatory reprimand. Regardless, I will be donning my newly fitted Batman suit, so as to fabricate my own creations. Even Bruce Wayne, though, has to play by the rules in order to play dark knight by night.