Watching the Bucks by Myself

I got home from work and had time on my hands, won by passing my defense and finishing my master’s degree. My girlfriend was busy writing, trying to finish up her first semester of graduate school, so it seemed prudent to give her space. I could be sitting in a different room, chilling with headphones on, making not a peep, but I know that I’m still a distraction to her while she writes, so I need to get out. Timing was that the Bucks were playing.

I contacted some friends about meeting up for the Bucks-Suns, but no one was available. My brother messaged me about watching it, but he lives a two hour drive north of me, so it’s not like I was going to meet up with him. He said to just go to the Laurel Tavern, a pub nearby my apartment, and watch the game by myself. I scoffed at the thought; who goes to a bar on their lonesome and do I want to be that type of person? This was judgmental of me, I know. I wavered in this judgment. I really didn’t feel like doing much else other than watching basketball, and this was only going to happen if I’d go to that bar. Maybe this is the expected change, post-thesis – I’m now the guy who goes to bars alone.

It took me a bit to come around on watching the Bucks alone, so I only show up to the Laurel as the second half started. One of the televisions already had the game on, a real shocker in Madison. Madison loves sports, with many residents defining themselves on their sports fandom, but speech and silly shirts show the state’s loyalties.

The assumption is they suck, they will suck, and sucky teams aren’t worth investment. Or maybe they see Bucks basketball as a Black thing, while Wisconsin is so damn White… anyway, I digress. Something to discuss in a different way, or a different post. I was able to just get a beer, find a table near the Bucks-playing TV and just watch the game.

Posted up at a high table by myself, I felt subversive and self-conscious. Not only was I alone, I was watching the Bucks. Of course I had my friends and my brother on the line, messaging them as the game progressed, but it’s not the same. Nobody knows if you’re actually messaging someone or just frantically checking your phone, lonely and hoping for contact. I didn’t feel lonely. I felt anxious. The thought that others might perceive me as lonely is a bother.

I worry too much.

The game came down to the wire. I messaged my friends while peering at the screen, all of us guessing how the Bucks would mess up the final play and lose the game to the Suns. I think I called a five-second violation on the inbound. A friend foresaw Jerryd Bayless bricking a shot. Another predicted a Khris Middleton shot rimming out of the cylinder. My brother was confident the Bucks would get it through the hoop, even though he didn’t say how. I expected the worst and hoped for the best. I can’t say how my friends feel about the team, but I do break down into the sort of fan who says “we did it!” despite all evidence against my contributions to the team. The thoughts that held true for the past few years of Bucks fandom – should they lose first to get better later? – are nowhere in sight now, huh?

Khris Middleton’s shot rimmed in. I cheered, hooted and hollered a bit, joined by other tavern patrons who tuned into the final play. Not many mind you, just three or four folks. It was gratifying to see others give a damn, even if it was just for a moment. Over our clamor I could hear others, however, each asking what the hell was going on. My self-consciousness returned, anxiety that slipped away during that moment I shared with those other patrons-turned-Bucks-fans. I’m still alone, watching a sports team that few people care for. I wish I were strong-willed, but I’m not. It’s hard for me to be defiant in my fandom, resolute to openly care about this team when others fail to see what I see. In broad scope, sports are silly. Basketball is silly. Fandom is silly. In the past I’ve mocked pride without accomplishment. Defiance is hypocrisy. I’m just a guy who looks lonely, unable to fully enjoy the good fortune of others because I think too much about what it all says about me.

I finished my beer quickly and left. During the short walk home, I vacillated between unwarranted joy and contemplative sorrow, unable to appreciate much at all: not my victory over academia or my teams’ victory over the Suns. I entered my apartment to my girlfriend’s cheer, her having said something like “how about them Bucks?” She was watching the score updates, knowing that it matters to me more than I care to say.

I smiled, moving quickly to the story of what went down in those last seconds of the game. My life has changed, but I have not. There is no revelation post-degree. Just more time to be problematically conscious of myself.

My History with Basketball Prior to Liking It

I liked Jordan as a kid, but who didn’t. My mother told me that I used to recite facts about Jordan to her – height, birthday, and favorite food – as if she’d find them fascinating. She said that she asked me to keep it to myself one time, and that my eyes welled up about to cry. Then she told me I could keep talking.

There was a Jordan poster on the wall immediately above my pillow for a few years. I would often push my pillow up the wall as I slept, damaging the bottom part of the poster. I eventually threw it out and replaced it with a drawing of Yoshi that a middle school friend made for me.

My brother, who I shared a room with, hung up a Shawn Kemp pennant and bought a Vin Baker collectible figure. These were hung on the wall with Sesame Street posters, a White Sox windsock, and a calendar. I have no idea what has come of any of these items.

I played a lot of NBA Jam as a kid. One time, when my American grandparents visited, I convinced my grandpa to play the game with me. I remember that he scored two points and I scored the rest. I think we won, but in NBA Jam, if you win, it’s always by the skin of your teeth.

We had a basketball hoop put in next to the driveway to the family home. Sometimes, when I was really bored, I would shoot around. Nobody ever told me my shot form sucked. To this day I really can’t hit a shot.

I played basketball for some youth league in 5^th or 6^th grade, mostly because my brother did and I usually did the thing he did at that age. I feared getting the ball because I couldn’t dribble or shoot well. My point total for the season: four. We managed to get 4^th place overall. The parents of the other players wanted to get us trophies except for my mom. We didn’t win anything anyway and money was tight at that time. She backed out, but the rest of the parents chipped in extra to get me a trophy anyway. My trophy was a little different though; I got the “Most Improved Player” trophy.

My friend (and contributor) Nick and I played a lot of NBA Jam during the Bucks’ “Fear the Deer” season. Finding out that he actually watched the games, I too started watching. I didn’t want to be labeled a bandwagon fan, but I didn’t know how to avoid it. I told my brother this fear at Lucky’s on Regent one day. He told me the following story. He was listening to Milwaukee sports radio in the car during the Bucks postseason, and the radio host said that they had a poll up on their website asking whether listeners would rather hear stories about the Bucks’ postseason or the Brewers’ preseason. Listeners overwhelmingly voted for the Brewers.

That’s the day I started to like basketball.

ADVANCED STATS: Heat 75 Bucks 99

Should you pay attention to our advanced stats? Yes, you should pay attention to our Advanced Stats.

Why Did You Go To This Game?

At nighttime, climbing the stairs from the Atlantic Avenue Metro stop you expect to exit on a dimly lit Brooklyn street, but the bright wraparound LCD screens constrict your sight and make it difficult to see Barclays  Center rusty patina.

To the right of the exit there’s public seating for a warmer night and from the concrete bench where I sit scalpers greet alighting Atlantic Avenue Metro riders with calls of “I need tickets!”

To scalp a ticket, you move from Barclays  brick-laid courtyard and negotiate on the adjacent sidewalk.

The transaction before mine had quite a bit of back and forth and ended with two satisfied men walking away and accosted by none. I used the same vendor and with Uppers purchased, down from $25 to $20, I ask my scalper if Jason Kidd’s return made for a good night selling tickets. He backpedaled away, and offered:

Fuck Jason Kidd. He’s a piece a shit and Brooklyn gave him his shot and he fuckin’ left so fuck him we Brooklyn and we don’t forget.

Equal parts mysterious and tumultuous, Jason Kidd’s departure left pundits and fans alike asking why the franchise’s most revered player would ever leave basketball Mecca.

Expecting an arena packed with fans to see the return of the former player and coach of the Nets, the question for the night was simple: “Why did you come to tonight’s game?”

 A mid-week game saw wool overcoats, suits, blazers, and blouses come streaming through the metal detectors. Work attire maybe the unofficial uniform of Nets’ fans. More fans entered the gates wearing their work uniforms than team official gear—even the Nets’ dance team, “The Brooklynettes,” wore a glitterball black blazer, white shirt and black tie while they warmed up courtside for the evening.

The amenities of Barclays Center do well to recreate the Burroughs outside the facility.  The lower level is what you’d expect from a modern NBA facility: designer Mexican cuisine, expensive eating contest quality hot dogs, local lagers, and queues to match NYC’s other entertainment.

 A first glace of the arena gives the appearance of a home court. The chevrons inlayed into the hardwood along with the Brooklyn Nets logo at mid-court give the feel of a modern day Boston Garden. The baselines are clean are capped off with the 2014 NBA All Star Game insignia adding some pleasant color to the court.

But for all the details that make the court nice there are more that let it down. Media seating dominates the lower section, with sections of chairs missing, with big open spaces dedicated to open laptops and legal pads. The hoop stanchions aren’t the clean black and white to match the court and have “Barclays Center” written vertically on the baseboards. In front of team benches an advertisement for “FREEFASTTICKETS” spans the length of the seats and Red Bull livery lines each unoccupied seat.

The team is well documented for their grandiose spending and shallow pursuit of a team felt built into the brick and mortar. Barclays Center and the Brooklyn Nets created a space that highlights the things that makes basketball happen in Brooklyn and does well to distract from the basketball that happens in Brooklyn.

For this night, fans wearing NBA gear were preferable to me. If you had team gear you were fair game and my first fan was Terry. Terry, originally from Cedarburg, wore a Packers knit cap and held a beer. He stood alone and close to the wall, waiting for someone to return from the concessions. I explained the project and asked if he would mind being asked a question or two. He obliged.

What brought you to the game tonight? Was it Jason Kidd’s return to Brooklyn?

Well, my girlfriend knows I’m from Wisconsin and she bought the tickets as a birthday gift.

His date arrived, carrying a beer herself. Unknown how long she’d been standing behind me but now took terry’s arm.

Are you a fan of the Bucks?

To be honest, I don’t watch any games. I don’t exactly follow them or the NBA.

Terry was lead away by the arm.

Jacob sported a Mitchell and Ness Nets flatbrim cap and black and white colored clothing of various brands.

I led off that I liked his has and if he mined if I asked him a question or two about the game tonight

See ladies, it’s the hat, juss like I was saying.

A quick rub of the brim with both hands and Jacob’s attention was off the women and back onto me.

Why did you come to the game tonight? Jason Kidd’s return a motivating factor?

I’m from Brooklyn and I’m definitely, definitely a fan of the team but tonight is about business, actually. The guy who helps heal the players, the guy who fixes them up like,

The team doctor? I asked.

Yeah yeah he’s a pal ‘a mine. He hooked me up with the tickets tonight and maybe a job interview after the game.

So you’re not a fan of either team?

Born and raised in BK, man. Less than two miles away from this exact spot, but like I said tonight’s about business.

Jason Kidd, you think leaving Brooklyn..

Jacob was on his cell phone and concluded the interview then. He asked me for my phone number so he could call later and finish the interview then.

Tony and his friends had passed me three times on the lower level. Tony wore a green away Ray Allen jersey. In Milwaukee, a Ray Allen jersey means you hate Gary Payton and haven’t really been into the Bucks for the better part of a decade.

Did you come to see the Bucks tonight?

Not really, I know they got a young team but not much other than that.

Are you a Ray Allen fan?

Oh yeah big time. I’ve had this jersey for over ten years I think, ‘cause you know I’m a fan of the college game. So the Bucks had Ray and then later they got Charlie Villanueva, so if I had to pick a team the Bucks would definitely be the team.

You’re from Connecticut?

No, we’re all from Long Island.

The three men were excited to end the conversation about basketball and wanted to talk Packers. Aaron Rodgers was such a beast. Single handedly winning fantasy games. But Brett Favre was also held in high esteem.

I told the three I hope Packer fans neither boo Favre nor cheer when he returns for a number retirement.

Nah man you guys can boo him. He’s like the guy that made your team famous. You can’t boo a great player and legend like that.

I thanked the three and walked away

Tony’s friend unzipped his jacket to show a Team USA Deron Williams jersey. Deron’s going to 20 tonight. Write that.

Tipoff was imminent. Up the stairs and to my section in the nosebleeds I sat alone through most of the pre-tip ceremonies. 

In the silence between “the land of the free” and “the home of the brave” a fan in the lower level shouted “KIDD YOU SUCK” to the delight upper deck around me.

At the nine minute mark in the second quarter the entire arena offered a standing ovation for  Jason Collins. The retired center sat courtside when the camera cut to him with a smile and wave. Collins played the second most games for the Nets’ in franchise history.

Jason Kidd clapped from the free-throw line where he stood with his coaching staff.  He was fifth on the Nets’ list of career games played.

Most of the young professionals seated by me left the game after the first overtime. By the second overtime more cleared out of the upper deck and the lower deck thinned as well. The fans who were left clowned Brandon Knight for missing the game-winning lay-up. He deserved the ridicule.

Nobody said a thing about how old KG looked and played in the third OT. At the final buzzer a Greek man wearing headphones stood up and cheered when the Bucks finally won.  GEE-ONNUS I LOVE YOU.

Exiting the arena the clerk from the Net’s pro-shop called out

A HEARTBREAKER FOR YOUR BROOKLYN NETS! BUT NETS SHIRTS ARE STILL AVAILABLE!