Aaron Brooks catches a nap before the endless NBA Playoffs begin.
Dubbs, you can pretend to care about these grown-ass men if it makes you feel better about aging, but me, I’m clinging to youth until the cops yank me off.
The NCAA Tournament is like when your cool-couple friends get married and everyone eats and gets drunk and dances until the reception hall smells like the dumpster behind a Taco Bell. The only downer at the cool-couple wedding is when your lame-couple friends who are soberly having fun for entirely different reasons have to remind everyone that their upcoming wedding will be just as much fun as this one. Everyone disingenuously agrees and begins hoping for a conflicting funeral or Bris that weekend. The lame-couple wedding is the NBA Playoffs.
Now I’m not saying the NBA should invoke a single-elimination, field of 64 tournament like college has. Mostly because there aren’t 64 teams in the league, which means non-NBA teams would have to be included like Benetton Treviso or the Rio Grande Valley Vipers or the New Jersey Nets. And no one wants to see that.
I’m not sure what I think the NBA should do differently, I just know the NCAA Tournament is better. Every year one NBA team’s city gets to declare, “We won!” at the end of the NBA Playoffs. Meanwhile, one million bracket champions get to declare, “I won!” at the end of the NCAA Tournament. It all sunk in while watching the final few seconds tick off the clock in West Virginia’s second round victory over Missouri on Sunday, gasping at every guffaw and heralding every heroic from “my team,” the victorious Mountaineers. I don’t care about West Virginia. I definitely done care about Missouri. Hell, I often forget they are states let alone colleges. And yet there I was offering the focus of a doting parent to a game between two teams that don’t matter. Why? Because it affected my bracket, and the NCAA Tournament, more than any other playoffs, is about me rooting for me.
By the way, my bracket is kicking ass, Dubbs. You should root for me, too.
Look, I know there’s something to be said for a classic seven-game slugout between great, evenly-matched teams. But I’m not the Brokeass to say it. To me, a seven-game series is just a six-game preview for the one game I wanna see. Name the greatest Game 3 in history. You can’t. The greatest Game 3 ever was sheer agony, like every other Game 3. The NCAA knows the key to keeping my attention is to leave me wanting more. NBA Playoffs, girl, you text too much.
West Virginia, I could not be happier over your victory. Now kindly please lose.
Posted by BA Brokeass
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