NBA Gaiden: Ben Gurion slouches toward Beth Lehem and buys her a drink
as the failing eyes of Stern David turn away, one thousand pointless voices strive to make a horrible joke about Brand Disloyalty
A prime tactic in Reviewieran praxis is the imposition of story on things perhaps not inherently narrative. Eventually--and it don't take long--that thing becomes so imbued with story-quality that it becomes difficult to partake of it without story. Which is why random NBA games between teams I'm not invested in are essentially unwatchable visual noise at this point.
Without context (backstory), the grace, athleticism, &c., no longer compels. Thus, we find ourselves languishing amongst Contradiction's Consequences:
turbulent stories being better than bland ones
and excellence/winning being bland
we prefer Bad Teams.
This Consequence befinds me in literal transition--from Portland to Oaktown--and DDT in transition away from the Blazers. Organizationally, they've become competent and aggressive, and in a crucial development, possess the resources to enact their visions! To put it another way:
I leave behind this Spurs-like assemblage I can neither fault nor care about.
My new position is perhaps more enviable, local to a Warriors team that bulletpoints like so:
- not yet committed to its rebuilding status, as evidenced by blowing all their money on a guy just good enough to cost them ping-pong balls
- 2 years ago, they posted the second-best first-round upset in league history
- last year, they won more games than any lottery team in history
- their coach, who's probably been doing this with mirrors, is on his way out
- the rebuilding plan seems to consist of:
building the team around the second-best Clipper of the last half-decade
- BTW, the guy in charge of rebuilding? no longer an alcoholic, but now literally addicted to giving longish contracts to desperately replaceable NBA players:
off the top of my head, Mullin's doled out 4 or more years to all of the following:
Richardson aside, there's not a special player in the bunch, and even Richardson is a pretty pedestrian brand of special.
Whatever. The best part of the ride of a rollercoaster is the feeling of endless descent, the vertigo where friction yields wholly to gravity, and everything becomes inertial. Eventually, the Warriors'll bottom out, endure a series of sickening lurches, and clang to a halt. That'll probably be ten years from now, when I'll be ready to move again.