Tom Pitt
Well-Known Member
It was just another day in the office in mid February. I sat at my desk staring like a zombie at my computer screen, the steam from my coffee whirling up toward the pallid ceiling tiles. 5:00am had come too soon. Again.
"Continuing our conversation from yesterday, the NBA is good, but let's make it great again." I turned to see my colleague David, looking casually in my direction from his workspace. He'd been beating this drum for several weeks now, but I wasn't sure if he'd watched an NBA game in 10 years.
I laughed. "Once again, The NBA is fine. It needs no change." I responded, as I typed in my login password for the 4th time. This time it worked.
"No way man." He retorted. "The league is soft now. Look man, I grew up on the bad boy Piston's. And they don't play defense like that anymore. They don't even play defense as hard as they do in college. Everyone knows this."
"Dude, You don't get it. They go hard in the pros, It just looks like more effort in college because there's hand checking and players lack the ball handing skill to the point where coaches exploit it by full court pressing most of the game. Not too mention defenses are schematically superior in the NBA and you have freak athletes with freakish limbs executing those defensive schemes. Did I mention players in the NBA are more savvy with how they play?"
"Whatever man. They don't play hard in the pros." Trumpeted a voice from across the dank expanse of the vanilla office space. I turned to see Braden peering intently at me from his desk. Braden hadn't watched an NBA basketball game in his entire life; I zealously pretended he didn't exist.
"Anyway, trust me" I said, "The NBA game is in a very good place right now."
"Well, you can't punch anyone in the face and not get ejected."
*Really Jerry Sienfeld voice* "That's good." I replied.
He laughed. "Okay. yeah. But what about the 82 game season. Too many meaningless games. Dog days of summer, how about the dog days of March and April. And Too many back to backs where the product is diluted. Too many teams tanking for lottery balls. They should take some ideas from soccer. Make the games more meaningful in the regular season. Have a champions tournament midseason. Give the fans of bad teams something to get excited about. Yeah, Like a one loss elimination tourney with all 30 teams playing. Or a division tournament. Spice that Sh** up, son"... He paused, obviously embarrassed about his last comment. "Sorry man, Just watched Straight Out of Compton for the first time last night."
"It's all good", I replied. "I haven't been to church in a while either."
Our supervisor walked in pumping his fists, and we knew it was time to get to work, but I still coundnt shake the notion that maybe I had underestimated David and that he was more perspicacious than I had initially thought.
"A mid season something?" I whispered to myself. "Late season more meaningful, but still somehow effecting the regular season playoff race. There must be some architect/visionary/prophet somewhere to undertake this. Sam Harris? Tolle? Monson? Zach Lowe? the next Einstein. A no name from the recesses of Jazzfanz?"
The voice of my supervisor sliced through my reverie,"Are you talking to yourself?"
"Just daily affirmations. You know, to get in the zone."
"Oh, I like it!"
"Certainly something to consider." I whispered, this time low enough that nobody could hear.
"Continuing our conversation from yesterday, the NBA is good, but let's make it great again." I turned to see my colleague David, looking casually in my direction from his workspace. He'd been beating this drum for several weeks now, but I wasn't sure if he'd watched an NBA game in 10 years.
I laughed. "Once again, The NBA is fine. It needs no change." I responded, as I typed in my login password for the 4th time. This time it worked.
"No way man." He retorted. "The league is soft now. Look man, I grew up on the bad boy Piston's. And they don't play defense like that anymore. They don't even play defense as hard as they do in college. Everyone knows this."
"Dude, You don't get it. They go hard in the pros, It just looks like more effort in college because there's hand checking and players lack the ball handing skill to the point where coaches exploit it by full court pressing most of the game. Not too mention defenses are schematically superior in the NBA and you have freak athletes with freakish limbs executing those defensive schemes. Did I mention players in the NBA are more savvy with how they play?"
"Whatever man. They don't play hard in the pros." Trumpeted a voice from across the dank expanse of the vanilla office space. I turned to see Braden peering intently at me from his desk. Braden hadn't watched an NBA basketball game in his entire life; I zealously pretended he didn't exist.
"Anyway, trust me" I said, "The NBA game is in a very good place right now."
"Well, you can't punch anyone in the face and not get ejected."
*Really Jerry Sienfeld voice* "That's good." I replied.
He laughed. "Okay. yeah. But what about the 82 game season. Too many meaningless games. Dog days of summer, how about the dog days of March and April. And Too many back to backs where the product is diluted. Too many teams tanking for lottery balls. They should take some ideas from soccer. Make the games more meaningful in the regular season. Have a champions tournament midseason. Give the fans of bad teams something to get excited about. Yeah, Like a one loss elimination tourney with all 30 teams playing. Or a division tournament. Spice that Sh** up, son"... He paused, obviously embarrassed about his last comment. "Sorry man, Just watched Straight Out of Compton for the first time last night."
"It's all good", I replied. "I haven't been to church in a while either."
Our supervisor walked in pumping his fists, and we knew it was time to get to work, but I still coundnt shake the notion that maybe I had underestimated David and that he was more perspicacious than I had initially thought.
"A mid season something?" I whispered to myself. "Late season more meaningful, but still somehow effecting the regular season playoff race. There must be some architect/visionary/prophet somewhere to undertake this. Sam Harris? Tolle? Monson? Zach Lowe? the next Einstein. A no name from the recesses of Jazzfanz?"
The voice of my supervisor sliced through my reverie,"Are you talking to yourself?"
"Just daily affirmations. You know, to get in the zone."
"Oh, I like it!"
"Certainly something to consider." I whispered, this time low enough that nobody could hear.
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