NBA games are funny. No, not "funny ha ha" more funny like a nightmare full of killer clowns is funny. Funny like a mini-circus for people with A.D.D. held inside of an air raid siren is funny. If you haven't been to a professional basketball game before and plan to do so in the near future, please be mindful that the event as witnessed in person bears only a passing resemblance to what is displayed on television... and, in fact, resembles even less actual basketball.
During the course of a typical basketball game, a coach who senses his team has lost the momentum will often call a quick timeout in order to calm the team down... you know... allow them to regroup and talk a little strategy. At such points, the typical fan will avail him or herself of this opportunity to reflect on the game so far. The typical fan may have even formed some opinions as to what is or isn't working for the home team and about what we might expect to see later. Many fans like to use the timeouts to share these opinions (as well as jokes, hellos, various ephemera) with the fan or fans near them.
After all, it is essential to friendship (or to basic human interaction for that matter) that we share our experiences with those close to us. Some would argue that the true purpose of attending any social spectacle with other people is so that we may enjoy one another's presence at these events. By talking about the game with other people we gain a greater appreciation of the game as seen through another's perspective and we gain appreciation for one another through our ability to share these unique perspectives. This is the very stuff of being a social animal. Unfortunately, at an NBA game, in an arena with 18,000 other souls present, there is no opportunity (not even during the timeouts) for any two of those 18,000 to engage in this essential human function because OMG LOOKOUT HERE COME THE GIANT HAMSTER BALLS!!
Even the actual athletic contest itself seems almost secondary to the bizarre multi-media carnival of constant urgent hyper-stimulation imposed upon the spectators. Multicolored lasers, random clips from Jim Carrey movies broadcast on the jumbo-tron, sudden explosions, puppets, karaoke, dancing girls, celebrities, retired professional wrestlers, drumlines, persons dressed in giant foam rubber costumes bounding about the floor firing T-shirts into the crowd with a frighteningly powerful air cannon; all of this conspires to frustrate not only the most basic communication amongst the fans but often even the completion of a single thought before the arrival of the next screeching novelty. It's like being caught inside an enormous living MySpace page.
Perhaps the most jarring difference between basketball on television and basketball in person is the disparate ways in which they distort one's experience of time. While basketball games on television can seem much longer than necessary often stretching two minutes into half an hour through repeated timeouts and semi-intentional fouls (each with its accompanying commercial interruption), basketball games in person are over before most of the audience is able to collect its balance. Leaving a game is like walking away from a double loop roller coaster. It was fast, it turned you inside out, and it was over so quickly that you're still trying to figure out what happened as you stumble away with a knot in your stomach.
If you happen to be stumbling away from a Hornets game, you may notice through your stupor as the exiting crowd continues to salute itself by emitting frequent calls of "Wooo!" Unlike Saints fans who, over the course of an appropriately paced football game, have the time to cheer in complete (if grammatically incorrect) sentences, Hornets fans can only bring themselves to say, "Wooo!" One monosyllabic utterance that conveys as much fear as it does thrill. "Wooo!" as though one has just swerved out of a near collision on the highway. "Wooo!" as if the boat has nearly capsized on a rough sea. "Wooo!" as though the Entergy bill has just arrived the same day as the tax return check. "Wooo!" as in I think I'll watch the next game from a comfortable barstool, thank you very much.
On our way home, Menckles made a game of sticking her head out of the car window and "Wooo!"ing at random pedestrians. Nearly all of them responded in kind. This morning I still can't figure out if these folks were fellow basketball fans, or if we had merely startled them. And that, I guess, is the NBA experience in a nutshell. The lines that separate a satisfied customer from an assault victim are significantly blurred.
Afterthought: I thought I had dreamt this part but, according to the paper, there was actual basketball associated with these events. Here's what I think I remember: Despite the big win, the Hornets continue to frustrate with their defensive rebounding which will be a problem on the road. Julian Wright is surprisingly skilled as a ball handler and as a shooter... even better than advertised. Mo Pete is utter garbage on defense. Oh and I think I remember that watching Chris Paul blow by people is so startling a thing to see in person that it actually elicits laughter. Supposedly, the Spurs will find a way to cover him in game 3, but I can't begin to imagine how.
Edited slightly and repeatedly in futile attempts to improve my attrocious writing.
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