It’s a little more obvious why many of us root for teams, but during this last week of the NBA Finals I got to pondering what makes us root for individual players. What makes me bring up the topic is this: ever since the Cleveland series, since even before that epic mano-a-mano Game 7, I’ve been mentally cheering hard for Paul Pierce. And I’m not a Celtics fan. In fact, I pretty much hate Boston teams. I know why I love the Hornets– that one’s easy. I live in New Orleans, and I went to forty-five games this year. P Squared, though, has got me thinking.
It could have been the moment-y stuff, like 41 points to close out the Cavs, or stepping out of the tunnel to thunderous applause after going down with a knee injury. It could have been how, at the Celtics’ lowest moments, it seemed like he was going to put the team on his shoulders and drag them to a championship, Kobe Bryant be damned. It could be that he was the one Celtic to whom wearing green meant the most.
To me, though, none of those things quite explained it.
The truth that maybe we don’t want to see is, most of us aren’t a Kobe, living in an opaque bubble in which we are wholly convinced of our own excellence. Most of us aren’t a KG; we can’t find it within ourselves to bring that level of intensity every day. Oh, we’d like to be. And maybe, for some of us, watching is enough. We can pretend for just those 48 precious minutes. But it’s not who I am, and I know it’s not. And it’s why, because I’m first and foremost a New Orleans Hornets blogger, I deeply appreciate the excellence of Chris Paul, but I also know he’ll never be my favorite player. That’s reserved for the David Wests, the Tyson Chandlers of the team. The dark horses.
The reality of it is that most of us weren’t, aren’t, and will never be the golden kid, the anointed one. The reality of it is that talent on its own isn’t always transcendent. There are always going to be the ones whose glow hasn’t always seemed quite strong enough.
But most of us have had doubts about whether we were wasting our talent, whether the problem might be that we were simply in the wrong place. Most of us have said stupid shit, and gotten fat in the offseason, and been a little bit whiny, and maybe been accused of partying too much. Most of us have holes in us that make us less than perfect. And we’ve made mistakes. I myself live in such a constant state of disarray that I realized this morning I’ve been driving around without proof of insurance (still in the envelope under a stack of mail six inches high), driver’s license (expired– who knew?), or registration (on my office desk). And I quit law school after my first year. And, going back even further, I still sort of regret that I don’t have “with honors” on my college diploma (despite spending my entire senior year compiling a 90 page honors project) because at the last minute I got in a disagreement with one of my advisors, said “%#@* this,” and went to Canada to drink and get thrown out of hotels. If you don’t have stuff like this in your past, you’re lying. Or maybe you are a Kobe. And, I guess, props to you if you are.
But I’m not. If you’re not, either, then you know a little bit about why it’s been great to watch Paul Pierce in these playoffs.
And, well. I don’t know. Maybe some of us want to watch invincible heroes. Maybe anything else ruins our sense of escapism. Maybe we don’t want to see ourselves in our idols. And if that’s how you feel, I can understand. And I’ll respect your right to feel that way about sports.
If that’s why you watched this season, I hope it was everything you wanted it to be. We all watch for different reasons. It’s amazing when you think about it, isn’t it? We all construct different truths out of a shared experience. If you’re a blogger, you certainly learn about that firsthand the first time you visit an opposing team’s blog and read an account of the same game from the flipside. What meaning do you pull out of it, that makes it worth watching, for you?
And the thing is, standing here at the end of the season, I realize I don’t need to know what you saw in your heroes, what made them great to you. I don’t need to know. It is what it is for you. And it’s not required that we have that in common. It’s not necessary. What you see won’t be what I see.
Why did you watch? I can’t say. It’s up for interpretation. It’s up to you. Me, I know why I watched.
You savor that cigar and that trophy, Truth. And thanks.
