Strike... and Yer Out

I LOVE THE NBA!

I have been a basketball fan three days short of forever.

I’ve been in the same NBA Fantasy League since 1993.

My son shares the same birthday as Michael Jordan.

I was the ball boy underneath the basket for Magic Johnson’s first game in the NBA.

A game which ended when Magic’s teammate, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, hit an 18-foot sky hook at the buzzer.

A sky hook that beat us by a point.

I’m old enough to remember watching Moses.

Malone.

And Dr. J.

In person.

And the Jordan before Jordan.

George Gervin.

(Best Nike Poster EVER by the way.)

Lloyd Free gave me a new name before he changed his.

To World B. Free.

He called me “Stove.”

I thought it was because I had a pot belly as a teenager.

He said it was because I was warm on the inside.

Loved that guy!

Now before I cut a tire on Memory Lane.

Let me say that I still the love the game today.

At times, it may be too much me me me.

But it is still a great game.

I just hope we don’t start saying it “was” a great game.

There’s a good chance by the time you read this, the NBA will be on full lockdown.

Lockout.

Whatever.

Honestly I don’t care if you call it a strike.

A work stoppage.

I call it bad news.

And if the reports are even close to true, this bad news might be with us for a while.

I haven’t watched a full NHL hockey game for probably five years.

Really.

I used to be the biggest fan.

THE biggest.

In the late 80’s, I fell in love.

With the Quebec Nordiques.

I watched every game.

On the satellite dish.

Even though I lived in Los Angeles.

I made several trips to Le Colisee to watch my Nords.

And eat Pomme Frites.

Even though they were gross.

I read the French newspapers.

Even though I don’t speak French.

I bought a Joe Sakic jersey.

Rooted for Mats Sundin.

And Owen Nolan

And Tony Twist.

And Ron Tugnutt.

I loved them all.

I couldn’t wait for the day that the Nordiques franchise would finally bring home the Stanley Cup.

That day finally came in 1996.

One year after the team moved to Colorado.

And the great people of Quebec City got nothing.

I don’t really care why the team moved.

Greed.

Money.

Owner.

Player.

Whatever.

The bottom line is they moved.

And us diehard fans just died.

In 1994, Major League Baseball went on strike.

Eliminated the World Series.

I still can’t say that out loud without spitting.

Major League Baseball eliminated the World Series.

Poof.

Gone.

Wow!

That same month, the genius NHL went on strike.

Lockout.

Whatever.

They ended up missing 104 days.

The 1994 season didn’t start until 1995.

The NHL, the ugly step sister of all the “major” sports, had a chance to show off.

While big brother baseball was in a time out.

Instead, the NHL decided to sit in the corner.

And pout.

I said it then and I say it now.

That was the death of the NHL.

Of course it didn’t help that another lockout put the entire season on ice in 2004.

No games.

Believe it or not, if you put a loaded gun to your head and keep pulling the trigger.

You will eventually kill yourself. 

The NBA’s pistol is loaded.

And this one’s not named Maravich.

The NBA somehow survived a work stoppage in 1998.

Starting that season in 1999.

I’m not sure it can live through another triple bypass.

With nearly ten percent of this country without a job, it’s pretty near impossible to have sympathy for these devils.

The average unemployment check is $293 per week.

The average NBA salary is $92,199 per week.

I’ve heard that something like two thirds of the teams in the NBA are losing money.

And I actually believe it.

At the end of the day, I’m probably an owners guy.

And I do understand why these multi-millionaire owners don’t want to keep losing multi-millions of dollars.

And I do understand why these multi-millionaire players don’t want to give up their multi-millions of dollars.

But here’s my one fan's opinion.

Figure it out.

Period.

Order some Gourmet Chinese Food.

Lock yourself in the Ritz-Carlton.

And figure it out.

If you don't.  

We will.