The NBA Playoffs
We interrupt our regularly scheduled correspondence to bring you this bulletin:
The NBA is dead to me.
I've been able to ignore the encroaching signs of the league's irrelevance, have been able to put aside its asinine marketing campaigns, pretentious self-regard, and general lack of affection for what you rightly call the world's greatest game. Mostly, I've been able to ignore it thanks to the last three Suns seasons, the most entertaining run by a nonchampionship basketball team in NBA history. But what happened yesterday destroys any last shred of love I had for the pro game. The NBA, for some reason, has decided to suspend the Suns' Amare Stoudemire and Boris Diaw for leaving the bench following Robert Horry's violent takedown of Steve Nash. The league is rewarding the Spurs for continually inflicting brutal punishment on a team that plays by the rules and punishing the Suns for breaking a crap rule that is wide open to misinterpretation. Two players have been suspended for standing up to check on their hurt teammate. Unbelievable.
My judgment may be clouded because I'm a Suns fan, but I have to say this: Evil is afoot. David Stern is evil. Stu Jackson is evil. The Spurs are at least 60 percent evil. The NBA is 100 percent wrong. I've been following sports since before you were born (a ridiculous but true fact), and I've never seen a team get ripped off this badly, in any sport. Sure, I'll be glad if the Suns find a way to win the series without two of their six best players. And I'll be dancing in the streets if they can bounce back from these insane suspensions to win the title. But support the NBA? I'd rather give $1,000 at an Exxon fund-raiser.
I won't be attending any games. I won't be buying any merchandise. I won't be paying a dime for their League Pass. I can't support the Friends of Bruce Bowen.
Screw the NBA.
PS: How's it going with the book promotion? I may not know much about hoops, but I know a hell of a lot about slutting around the book circuit.