COURTS OF MANY COLORS

 With apologies to the Old Testament, the NBA has managed to bring forward the Biblical story to the 21st century in spades. Then added glimmer and shimmer and primary colors and in the process made seeing the basketball on TV nearly impossible. And as one fan at the Lakers/Pelicans game in Las Vegas put it, I was there to watch players, but some of those wonderful moves  had to compete with the damn court. 

What is the answer? It seems obvious.

Aside from the awful courts, the tournament was a resounding success. It brought life to the early part of the NBA season, which has been, except for dedicated hoop nerds, the ho-hum part of the season when teams are trying to figure things out. 

Out of this tournament came a surprisingly interesting Finals matchup: The Big Market Los Angeles Lakers vs the Small Market, Indiana Pacers. The Pacers are led by a young upcoming Super Star, Tyreese Haliburton, and the Lakers will, of course, be led by the "Old" Mega Super Star Lebron James. Let's hope that the NBA League has the foresight to promote this market matchup. And not feel sorry for themselves that it was not Antetokounmpo vs James. 

Speaking of Tyreese Haliburton, he is one of the most unique players I've seen come into the NBA in a long time, a true point guard who dishes out double digit assists and also scores and plays defense. This is Oscar Robertson, Magic Johnson territory. I wonder if the Kings fans will forever wonder what the best duo would have been: Sabonis/Fox or Sabonis/Halliburton? 

I don't mean to leave on a negative note, but does anyone object to the double screen while watching players shoot freethrows on TV, that the NBA gives the larger screen to the commercial and the small screen to the player shooting? I'm getting pretty darn sick of all the advertising on TV interfering with content. I understand the league needs the ads to pay for the content, but do we have to be constantly reminded to bow at the altar of consumerism? 

Here's a poem to make up for my last littel rant. Morton Marcus was my mentor poet and coached high school basketball in San Francisco in the '60s. His memorial annual poetry reading was just held in Santa Cruz in November. 

A Literary Memoir

     For Morton Marcus

 Is this where poetry starts, Mort,
with a jab and a right cross, uncle
in your corner, trainer and cut-man,
Jewish Mafia gunned down,
and all the intervening year
you tell me about fighting with words?
Some wins, some draws, few losses
but enough to cost you friends and family.
 
I have no problem seeing you in the ring,
a welter weight with quick hands,
jabs that keep your opponents off balance,
no dancing, moving straight forward,
accepting two punches for one,
what you believe it takes to write.
You got to get bloody, you say.
 
We are sitting together a month
before your death. We have done this before
talking late about sports and poetry,
sometimes forgetting there’s a difference,
your punches, my hook shots,
a game I played that you admired,
a poem you wrote that knocked me out.