Welcome to another edish of basketball&feelings where we breaks down the emotions of life through the prism of nba basketball. I am communicating to you LIVE from a gospel concert at the Jazz Fest in New Orleans so currently surrounded by hallelujah’s and “how great is our God,” people in gorgeously colorful hats are standing and waving their hands around in praise, but that’s not here or there because we’re here to chat basketball, and oh-what-a-week it was. I’m going to pretend that game 2 between the lakers and warriors didn’t happen last night. For anyone who missed, and how dare you, it was total demolition. Like a 90s action movie where a cyborg climbs through the teevee to steal your children but the basketball version.
“Praise you are worthy of the lord.”
Okay, yeah, the lakers, the warriors, what a game 1.
The Warriors threw their best punch, especially in the 4th quarter, and Anthony Davis’ face just after the Lakers narrowly escaped with the win, it was one of those you do when you know you just nearly missed getting hit by a truck — like — fuuuuuck, how did I survive that.
I don’t know if the Lakers can pull this out in a 7 game series.
The entire series is going to come down to AD, playing at a dominant level, but for how many games can he sustain, that’s the mystery, sir. In the meantime, the Warriors have Steph Curry. What can I say about him that hasn’t been said already — nothing. Please don’t make me gush because I will if I am begged to, but this is the basic feeling:
If you’re too drunk 2 look at the photo above the feeling is that one you experience when you’re at a festival with thousands and thousands of people and you’re all existing together, sharing glory, whatever that glory is to you.
I don’t think the Lakers can or should win this legendary series, but I know they will. That’s the same blind faith we have when we believe in Jesus or Allah or Zoe Kravitz. Maybe that’s why sports brings the best out in all of us? It reaches deep into who we are, into our childhoods, where every balloon was a magical fish creature.
Klay Thompson and Steph Curry are both the sons of rich and famous former NBA players, first-class nepo babies, baby. Steph’s dad was a sharp shooter in the NBA, and Mychal Tompson, Klay’s paps, played on the Showtime Lakers. Despite their classy backgrounds, they did something that most of their hollywood nepo baby actor peers never succeed at, earned their place amongst their normy brothers in the NBA. I’m not saying that nepo babies who are actors don’t make it to the top or whatever. They do that in spades. Throw a diamond out your window in Santa Monica and you’ll hit an actor with a famous last name square in the blue eye; ouch. Respect to all the Nepo babies out there on their grind, hustling just like the rest of us without famous last names — but yo — yoooooooooooooooooo — have some awareness.
Imagine if Steph Curry sucked? Like seriously, close your eyes and imagine it. You turn the teevee on to watch game 3 between the warriors and lakers and Steph Curry is air-balling every three pointer he takes. Then here’s what happens after the game at the post-game interview: He gets up to the mic and he obnoxiously says, “glory glory was that not the most phenomenal performance of my life!”
You would think he was fucking crazy. Well the amount of times I’ve had that exact same thought after watching some starlet’s son on TV, mama mia. We don’t vomit because you got it easy, but because you don’t want to acknowledge that the reason you have it ez when you’re on the cover of that new magazine from Orange County, or in that Top Rated Reality show, is because of where you come from.
Back to Steph and Klay. They’re not nepo babies. They can’t be. Not when they can score points and win games the way they do. If they sucked then that would be a different story. But in sports you can’t cheat the game. So even though I’m not going to be rooting for them in May, I tip my hat to Steph and Klay. Hallelujah guyzzzzz — you earned it.
Love, and till next time —
allen