New post, nothing overly cohesive to impart on you peoples. I'm slowly trying to edge my way towards becoming just another one of those humdrum-y, regularly updated blogs where the blogger may, on any given day, inform you that he or she was just yesterday trying to locate the whereabouts of a favourite pair of socks or that he (or she, as ever) thinks that the weather outside is rather "dull".
Yes, indeed I have set my goals high in this life.
So, odds and ends, as promised:
This season, I've been able to get my hands on some NBA games, which I haven't been able to watch for a while. As rekindling old passions go, my success has been variable. I do enjoy the incredible skills and poise of certain players, and all the tiny details within the game from executing screen and rolls perfectly to rebounding in traffic and making the right pass the right way. I still also appreciate great defensive foot work, hustle plays, beautiful jump-shooting technique, quick crossovers, strong post-up moves, diligent boxing out... the nitty-gritty of basketball, that is. Then again, I must admit that I'm not enamoured with the game the way I once was; the mythic quality of the NBA and its star players has vanished for me almost totally. Which is kind of a shame, but tends to happen with age. At least in my case, every segment of life nowadays seems to unfurl before my eyes more naked than before; stripped of much of the associated hyperbole.
I just watched an incredible game, though: The Suns, the greatest offensive machine in the League, against the Nets, no slouches in that department themselves. Steve Nash (that's him on the left - really), who is a small white Canuck and my favourite player along with the indomitable Allen Iverson (more on him later), put on a masterclass of the point guard's craft that once again showed why he is the best player in the L right now, and the game went to double overtime, with both teams scoring close to 160 (!) points. That game was probably enough to turn your grandma - not in her grave, but into basketball, which truly is the King of Sports, and anyone who says otherwise is a stupid idiot. So there.
That other favourite player is the aforementioned Allen Iverson, who the Philadelphia 76ers are presently peddling to all-comers like a pair of used underwear. Well, he doesn't bloody well deserve the flack he's getting in the press right now, and I just bet that down the line he'll make a lot of people sorry for doubting him or what he can do for your team. But Bill Simmons already said it better in his rather eloquent and passionate defense of the Little Big Man. (Note that the link will only stay up for a couple of weeks - from then on the money-grabbing bastards at ESPN will charge people for reading it.) If you've never seen him play, that article will give you some idea, but the guy is even more than that. Just seeing his picture always puts a smile on my face, and not many things are capable of that. (With the exception, of course, of talking animals, which are always fucking funny.)
I am well excited about this whole trade, though; I find myself checking NBA news sites (and that trusty old companion, Slamonline) half-hourly to see if the hapless Sixers have already pulled the trigger on this trade. I'm really enthused to see where he lands, and the effects the new beginning will have on his career as well as the new team's fortunes. I don't think I've actually been this hot and bothered about a trade ever - or at least not in a long while. What I would hate, however, is to see him land on a half-assed team like the Celtics or Golden State. If there's anyone in the NBA that deserves a shot at the championship, it's Iverson; after carrying those NBDL-caliber Sixers teams for so long, he finally deserves a chance to win it all. (And I've always believed he'd modify his game to accommodate for other great players; the reason he's been taking all those shots is there's never been anyone else legitimate to take them. Would you rather see Kevin Ollie shoot the ball?) Of course, the table is set so, with teams indulging in knee-jerk haterism and fearing the luxury tax, that he probably will end up on one of those teams. Shame, but it will be interesting nevertheless, and I, for one, am going to keep close tabs on this scenario.
