I’m starting this post at halftime after witnessing Tim Duncan, No. 21 of the Spurs, dunk one-handed (and one-footed) as if he’s the exciting, young guy his team is planning to build around when the veterans retire. He’s actually 37-years-old and a four-time champion. With a win tonight, he’ll have one ring for each finger on his hand. The San Antonio Spurs lead the defending champions, the Miami Heat, 3-2 in the 2013 N.B.A. Finals. They closed the first half on a 17-4 run.
Jump to postgame–Miami won 103-100 to force a Game 7. There was no way to type eloquent sentences while the game was going on (well, unless your Tzvi Twersky). Commercials never felt so short! Every time I expected something to go one way in the fourth quarter, it went in the opposite direction–and fast! Blocks, missed three-pointers followed by offensive rebounds and made three-pointers, overtime. I can honestly say it was one of the best games I’ve ever seen.
Composure–haha, what’s that? I was screaming and caps-locking and laughing and flipping out watching the final few minutes and overtime of that game–and boy, did that feel great.
In the earlier games of this series, I zoned in and out. I wasn’t focused on what was happening and frankly, I didn’t try. That scared me. These past three years in college, I thought I finally figured out exactly what interested me–basketball. So much so, I started this blog and wrote to SLAM in an attempt to turn my so-called love and passion into a career. And recently, at what’s supposed to be the most exciting time of the year for basketball fans, I felt I was losing that ever-so-valuable interest.
Game 6 on Tuesday night changed my mind. Those three hours were an awesome good time! I enjoyed a game between two teams that I’m not a fan of. I had a blast watching, tweeting, and reading other’s tweets during every timeout. I wasn’t bored or tired…I was having fun and loving every second of it. Thank God.
This post is a reminder to myself there’s a reason I love this game. It sounds silly, I’m sure, to some people. But this sport makes me happy. It’s an actual thing I like that exists. No one forces me to like it, and that’s a big deal for me. I never considered myself super outspoken or passionate or interested in much when I was younger. The dreaded “What are your hobbies?” remains difficult for me to answer, but I’m compiling a list to satisfy that question…and satisfy myself.
The most recent game in the N.B.A. Finals reassured me this whole watching basketball hobby-type-thing is–forgive me for using this term, ugh–legit.
San Antonio and Miami, bring on Game 7! I’m ready.