Love & Basketball

It's that time of year again when young men's fancies turn to... basketball. The Big Dance. The Sweet Sixteen. The Elite Eight. The Final Four. The agony. The ecstasy. How can anyone NOT adore the season? The NBA playoffs are in sight, and teams are gearing up for that final push, not only to reach them, but also to solidify their seedings. Basketball, I always say, is one of my favorite of the three seasons. (Yes, three. Football, Basketball, and Off. Didn't they teach you anything in school? Geez!)

What I don't quite understand is why there aren't more female fans of the game. I mean, what's not to like? Physically fit men running up and down the court getting themselves sweaty. Come on, ladies. Is there anything sexier than the sight of Alonzo Mourning all lathered up with perspiration after his fourth block of the night? It's a beautiful thing, I tell you.

I'm not saying ladies should watch only to see fine men. There's also the strategic aspect of the game to which we should be attracted. We, the females of the species, are a cunning and conniving bunch. (Hey, don't hate me 'cuz I told the truth.) I would think that any game that involves strategy, as well as skill, would rate high for us. I mean, you could watch a ballet and see muscular men prance around, but I'll bet the end of Swan Lake can't get your adrenaline pumping the way a good, close, overtime battle can.

It's not just ladies that need to give the game a chance, either. I've met men who know little or nothing about sports. This is a real turn-off for me, because I watch sports regularly. I'm the one you do not call on Football Sunday, unless there's an emergency. And even then, it had better be halftime. Same with basketball.

Believe it or not, I put a guy I was dating out of my apartment twice for bugging me during the game. I remember it like it was yesterday. The year was nineteen-hundred and ninety-five...LOL

Okay, I'll spare you the sitcom-like flashback. But let's just say I tried to give the man a chance.

He insisted on coming over and watching a Monday Night Football game with me. I cautioned him against this because I can get pretty riled up watching football. I don't even remember who was playing. What I do remember is that after the first touchdown and PAT, as the broadcast cut away to a commercial and flashed the score on the screen, I heard...

"Ooh, they got that score wrong. They said seven points, but they only scored one touchdown."

I just looked at that dude in disbelief. He was so proud of himself, too. He thought he was making intelligent commentary. Poor, dumb soul.

I calmly explained that touchdowns are worth six points each, and the extra point kick added another. Then I put his butt out of my apartment before the commercial break was over.

He later explained that he didn't know much about football. (Naw, really?! You don't say!) Basketball, he claimed, was really his game. I am apparently a glutton for punishment, because, when the NBA season began a couple of months later, I allowed him to come over and watch a game with me.

So, I was coaching and helping the refs out, as I always do, and listening to make sure he actually knew the game. The ball went through the hoop.

"That's two!", he exclaimed. I breathed a sigh of relief. Hallelujah!, I thought. He knows how scoring works in this game. This won't be so bad after all.

A few minutes later, I hopped up and yelled toward the television. "Illegal defense, Ref!"

Just then, the whistle blew...the ref had seen it too. (Remember, this was back in '95... long before the rules changed.) Yes!

"What's an illegal defense?" ol' boy asked with interest.

Alright. Don't panic. It's an advanced concept. Maybe he's a fan of the college game and doesn't know NBA rules.

"You gotta play man-to-man in the NBA. It's not like the college game where you can play zone defense," I calmly explained.

"What's a zone defense?"

What the...? I was trying to enjoy the game, not teach Basic Basketball 101. So I put his butt out of my apartment.

Needless to say, that relationship did NOT last.

Now, I'm not suggesting that sports knowledge should be the cornerstone of everyone's criteria for a mate. But it doesn't hurt.

I can tell you're not convinced yet. So don't take my word for it. Turn on a good game, settle in, and enjoy the competition of it. You'll get sucked into it. You'll develop a love for the game--whatever the game--as I have. Then, you'll expect the same devotion to your sport of choice.

~e