Fiending for Some NBA Action
(This is in the spirit of Holly MacKenzie’s very nice piece over at Hardwood Paroxysm, only I’m doing 36 things I miss because the Hornets have six players and there are six of them. Don’t you get it? It’s science.)
It’s Thursday morning. Roughly 8am. I shouldn’t be awake yet. Last night as I sat at my computer as the clock neared midnight I was searching for interesting news. Nothing. A Google News search turned up only two New Orleans Hornets articles in the top 10. Neither was what you would call news.
I was legitimately bored online for the first time since beginning my transformation into a Hornets Dude a few years ago. Begrudgingly, I went to bed.
I want the NBA. No, I need the NBA.
At Hornets Report the most lively conversation of the evening was one about how there was too much Hornets247 stuff on the forum, but in the end it was realized that we are just the only ones writing daily about the Hornets. There isn’t much to say, even on the biggest forum. Can you think of anything to say? Well?
As Defuz said over at HR, “The off-season is always dull, save ridiculous trade ideas. This year though, it’s like watching TV with your back turned and the mute button pressed.”
Not knowing what the future holds is equally bad. I liken it to waiting for Christmas, but not even knowing what month it is.
I never thought I’d say this, but I miss talking about Chris Paul trades, even the ones that are so absurd they make me want to claw my eyes out and disown the human race.
I miss defending the best point guard in the league against opposition armed with inferior arguments.
I miss the days of explaining to everyone, time and time again, that the Hornets will make the playoffs.
I miss lecturing the national masses on why New Orleans will survive and eventually thrive as a basketball city.
I miss helping that become a reality through the Save Our Hornets Foundation.
I miss the unlimited free 7-up that the Hornets have at the Arena. Since I started attending Hornets games my 7-up consumption has risen at least 20,000 percent, possibly more.
I miss watching the pre-game concert and having a beer when I really should/could be inside the arena “working”. Occasionally seeing guys like Trombone Shorty with dollar beers is a benefit no other teams offer.
I miss wondering if the game will have to be delayed every time I watch a pre-game introduction with pyrotechnics.
I miss the booing that ensues when the bad guys take the floor, and the cheers when the good guys follow.
I miss standing up for way too long while the Hornets struggle to score their first point, and on rare occasion sitting down when they score effortlessly right off the bar to give us a seat.
I miss the conversation with friends I’ve shared countless triumphs and letdowns with.
I miss watching Chris Paul prove me right– that he’s the best PG in the league without question.
I miss watching the people running with Italian flags get exhausted some games, and never move for others.
I miss the anticipation of the crowd as Marco’s three pointers approach the hoop.
I miss Emeka Okafor’s smile, night in night out. That guy is truly happy to be a basketball player.
I miss Jarrett Jack remembering that he’s really good at basketball.
I miss shots like the one he hit to beat LA in the playoffs.
I miss trying to hold in my optimism, as the Hornets take a big lead early, and quelling my fears as they fall behind.
I miss watching Trevor Ariza get in a passing lane for an easy steal and a transition bucket.
I miss cursing as Trevor takes jacks up an ill-advised three pointer.
I miss looking like a stammering idiot trying to explain the problem with three points when the same shot swishes in
I miss thinking that maybe, just maybe, Q-Pon will figure it out faster than anyone expected.
I miss watching guys young and old fight for roster spots in summer league and throughout the season.
I miss watching rookies grow up overnight as the playoffs begin.
I miss having a halftime cigarette, even more so since I quit smoking them all together a while back.
I miss chatting on the Daily Dime, giggling to myself as my neighbors give me strange looks.
I miss trying to finish writing the first draft of my recap before the game has even finished.
I miss close games.
I miss screaming at the ref, which is something I really can’t do anymore. I’ll be doing a few games in the stands next year, and I am really looking forward to it. The yelling, I mean.
I miss overtime.
I miss buzzer-beaters.
I miss the post-game beer and cookies that the Hornets generally have. Like, a lot.
I miss watching Monty Williams laugh as he answers ridiculous questions that are obviously not being asked for the sake of getting any real information.
I miss getting done and driving home the wrong way once in a while, even though I’ve done that drive hundreds of times.
I miss wearing my suit or jacket out to bars or music venues and having my bum friends look at me like I’m wearing a mink tuxedo.
Hell, I even miss saying “Bee-fense”