I've begun this draft as the Nets are still very much alive. Make no mistake, they will have been long dispatched by the time that you read this. In the event that they manage to come back and force a Game 6 in Brooklyn, I promise that I will change
Part of following the Nets all year long has meant that while I could decide to live my life, the Brooklyn Nets also exist, and continue playing games regardless of my personal schedule. Were I not bound to this column, I could act like a normal person, spend a day
I make bad decisions. Not the truly crippling ones like trying heroin or leaving my wife and child for a stranger who smiled at me on the train, but the kind of self defeating ones. I have a responsibility. For the remainder of the Nets season, what could now be
Maybe it's the narratives that ruin sports. The arguments we don't simply make, but maintain well past the point where we should continue voicing our dumb opinions.
Earlier yesterday, I'd listened as my coworker who hadn't watched the Nets/76ers game told me that Jimmy Butler had a bad game. This was
And then the fog rolls in, the sound and noise drift into the recesses of your memory. All the strife, all the anguish. It's history. You cross they Grey Rainbow Bridge and find yourself in purgatory, which you greet with the middle aged cousin to jubilation: Contentment. Because you really
Do I reflect here or wait until it really is all over?
I could end it right now, but that would be a cop out. As I told my friends about the column, the constant question was "You're really going to watch and write about 82 Nets games?"
"Plus the playoffs," I
In the end, all the anxiety and melodrama were in vain. For what seems like forever, I've spent the end of this season, cursing the way things would ultimately shake out, but that's over. Neurosis is obsolete. Pity is undeserved. The Brooklyn Nets are in the playoffs. The long fear
Have you ever considered what it takes to be a talking head? Think about Skip Bayless, and his entire livelihood. For the past 16 years, the man has woken up, compelled to craft the exact same sports arguments. It's not so much a retelling and understanding about the previous night's
How did I do this every night before? Remember that? I did these after every game. That was poorly conceived. Granted, that's how you become a #thing but still, how does anybody talk this much about basketball. Are there new insights? For one team? Every single game? Frankly, I'm surprised
We're in the endgame now. Five games to decide the season. The voice in my head tells me that I've got to rejoice in the experience of these last five games. They may be the last chance I ever get to watch this team play together. I want my senses
My daddy caught me smoking those cigarettes this year. And he made me smoke the whole pack in front of him and everybody, until I'd vomited and forgotten how to feel the sensation.
This is all a melodramatic metaphor, of course. But what does it mean?
It means that it's baseball season
I can no longer speak about this team with any level of intelligence. That is both a combination of several factors. One is that I feel as though I've felt every emotion, and said everything that could be said from my perspective, as this team has fluctuated in between sloppy