Doesn't It Seem Foolish?

I understand that toward the end of a season, certain players upon whom a team relies, having racked up lots of minutes, need time off. However, resting uninjured (vets or not) this early in the season is an insult to the fans, and considerable molly-coddling of said players. Aw, baby needs a nap; otherwise he'll be cranky? Meanwhile teams lose games up front that later in the season will possibly come back to bite them on their butts? Great, sure makes sense to me.

Last night I watched Carmelo Anthony of the New York Knicks sitting it out. Could Carmelo's presence on the court have helped his team defeat the Warriors? Probably not, but one never knows. The Warriors are still in "figure things out" mode, which allows for some unseen defeats (Undermanned Griz, recently, for example).

Frankly, I've never been a Carmelo fan and, in my humble opinion, the Knicks should trade him (probably have to eat some of that big contract) and build around a terrific core of young players that they have. Still, there the Star sat, healthy and ready to play, and in the stands sat fans who paid big bucks, to come to the game, some eager to see first hand the "great" Carmelo. See what I mean? It ain't fair to the people who provide the money to keep this league going, unless of course the NBA is so arrogant it figures TV money will support the league forever.

Right now I'm feeling about sports fans the way I'm feeling about America's middle class under a Trump presidency, like he give a crap. Two nights ago, the Sacramento Kings gave DeMarcus Cousins a rest. Are they kidding me? The young man (stress young) is not injured and was desperately needed. The Kings can't win without him. Of course, they can never win a championship with him, but that's entirely another blog.

To honor Craig Sager who died recently after battling cancer, I offer this poem I've used on my blog before but is worth using again. Sager was a real personality and a damn could interviewer.

Mr. Fancy Suit
      
     For Craig Sager in memoriam

Entire species have given their lives
for his shoes, ostrich and alligator
dyed to resemble what their skins
might look like were they fowl
or reptile from another planet,
red being neither blood nor cherry,
yellow neither corn nor sunflower.
The camera is recording the white
patent leathers with toes of fuchsia,
but of a generation of fuchsia
yet unknown to mankind.
He holds the pair with one hand,
with his other hand gently strokes
the leather, like childhood pets.
From his closet he draws forth
his sport coats: the Scottish plaid,
the royal blue, the black beaded
one with sequins, drawing gasps
of delight, followed by the pink
with while lapels, the purple silk
and orange shirt, no self-respecting
orange would endure. There are ties
I remember seeing as a boy looking
into a kaleidoscope and ties of red lips,
that do not kiss but look as if they could.
I think of clowns, the irony concealed
beneath their costumes and matadors,
their blessed suits of light, actors
and the roles they hide behind.

That was Basketball, This is Life

After the last years NBA Championship won by the Cleveland Cavs, I took LeBron to task on my Blog for his public griping over Draymond Green's swat at his groin that hardly touched its target. I've never been a fan of LeBron's basketball. Not that he's not one of the greatest to ever play the game, but so much of his greatness derives from his amazing physical strength. I know that that's a bogus reason, but it's the same way I felt about Shaquille O'Neil and his back-in-knocked-down-his -defender-to-score strategy. I even wrote a poem about LeBron in my recent collection of poems, Sweat: New and Selected Poems About Sports, in which I compared LeBron to the bull in a bullfight. "...still, you can't cheer for the bull," was the last line of the poem.

Well, that was basketball, and this is about life. In this mornings sports page I read that on the Sports Illustrated cover photograph of LeBron  James as Sportsman of the Year, the Cavs star is wearing a safety pin on his jersey. Since Donald Trump's election, the safety pin has become a symbol of solidarity with those Americans (people of color primarily) who fear they'll be disenfranchised by the Trump presidency. I know of no other player in the NBA or any coaches or any NBA administrator or ownership wearing a safety pin. I'm pretty sure the media would have noticed by now. Therefore, LeBron is making a personal and brave statement of his beliefs. Good for you LeBron. When I told my wife about this, her words were, "God bless him." A double blessing, LeBron.

This is not the first time LeBron James has been a thoughtful citizen.

Recently, LeBron James' voice was one of the strongest to urge the NBA to provide a comprehensive free medial & prescription drug insurance for all retired players. Great news, especially for senior citizen players. In addition, LeBron has donated money and time to work on behalf of keeping youngsters in schools. Clearly, LeBron is a man with a strong moral compass and social conscience.

It makes me want to say, "I take back everything I said about your basketball game, LeBron," but of course I can't, entirely because that's basketball. But life has taught me that playing hoops takes up so little of one's chronological time on earth, that who you are as a man in the long run is far more important than hoops. With this in mind, I honor LeBron James. 

Here's the poem I wrote about LeBron with a caveat at the end.

LeBron James     by Tom Meschery

I'm lying in bed watching the Heat
throttle the Pacers and wondering
why I can't warm up to LeBron James
the way I did to players like Jerry West,
Julius Erving, Magic, Bird, Michael Jordan.
There's no doubt LeBron is the best
basketball player playing today and may
after his career ends, become the best 
of all time. Still, here I am hoping
He'll make some gross error and lose
the game for his team. No such luck.
Doing what he does best, he attacks,
driving with such strength, no defense
can survive. His skills made greater
by his strength. I played in the NBA.
I should admire how he plays, but don'
Instead, I'm feeling the frustration
of the opponents, how they must feel,
having worked so hard all their lives
to become great players, the best
in grade schools, high schools, colleges,
top NBA draft choices, now reduced to this:
LeBron making them look like amateurs.
It's sort of like watching a bullfight
in which the bull has not been weakened 
by picadors before the matador
steps up with his cape and sword.
In which case the bull is the clear victor,
right? See what I mean? It's not  who wins,
you still can't cheer for the bull. 


P.S. Except against my Golden State Warriors, in the future, I intend to cheer for the bull.