Did You Know? Pistons.

In case you’re in the Detroit area but are living under a rock, I wanted to inform you that the Pistons are playing tonight.  Pivotal Game Seven.  Against the San Antonio Spurs.  That’s right.  Pistons.  Championship on the line.  They’re going to try to "get it done" tonight.  Did you catch that?  Pistons.

Truth be told, I only found out about the game today.  Why?  Because, and pardon my French, I don’t give a flying fuck about the goddamn Pistons.

Ah, but perhaps it’s bitterness that causes me to want to dump on the joy that many people in southeast Michigan are feeling as we approach the night of reckoning.  For so many years, you see, this time of year (spring into early summer), was the golden season for the Detroit Red Wings.  For close to a decade, they went into the playoffs with optimism, sometimes coming out triumphant (’97, ’98 and ’02), sometimes not so lucky.  But no matter what, when June rolled around, someone would be playing for the Stanley Cup.  And even if it wasn’t the Wings, at least there was hockey going on at the moment.  A favorite would be picked, hopes would rise up, and we’d watch the series, attentive.  There would be a sweep, there would be a seven-game series, there would be a tussle to the very end, when CBC would telecast the entire Cup ceremony and we’d listen to "The Spirit of the Game," ushering us out of another NHL season.  There was something to watch, something for which to root.  Nowadays . . .

Go away, Pistons.  I hope you lose tonight!

Killjoy, bitter killjoy am I.  What really annoys me is the sudden fervor with which the entire area has turned to the Pistons.  A lot of people I know have not watched any of the season (which I did with hockey, thankyouverymuch), but become what I call "playoff fans," for they only engage the local teams when it’s clear that they’ll make a decent run for the championship.  I hated it when people did it with the Wings, I hate it when people do it with the Pistons – I’m sorry, but their success does not make me want to don the Piston jerseys.  Basketball bites, it’s boring, it lacks the grace and skill of hockey.  I am very much like a petulant child tonight, pouting and skulking with arms crossed, stomping my feet because I would much rather get a glimpse of a hockey final than a basketball final.

If I were to cheer for the Pistons, it’d be a sad day indeed.  Is this what my sports life has come to, I’d muse sadly; forced to cheer for men running up and down a court where there’s a basket made every six seconds?  In hockey, you have to wait, anticipate, watch for the set up, follow the puck.  In basketball, it’s so . . . monotonous.

Oh no, dearies – I will not do that to myself.  If I’m going to force myself to watch another sport, it’s going to be something akin to the Pro Beach Hockey my sister and I came across years ago that featured Steve Chelios (brother of Red Wing Chris).

Of course, all of the above just goes to show that, good God . . .

I MISS HOCKEY!!!!  WHO CARES ABOUT BASKETBALL????  WHERE’S MY HOCKEY FIX????  JUST A TASTE, MAN, JUST A TASTE!!!!

You listening, Bettman and Goodenow?  I know you’ve reached a salary cap deal, but make an end to the lockout happen soon.  Or else, I have no idea what I’ll have to do next season to get my hockey fix in order to avoid the goddamn basketball frenzy.

Considering it was an over-saturation of basketball in 1989 that drove me into hockey’s arms, you’d think a lack of hockey would throw me into the embrace of basketball.  No.  Anything that induces a hypnotic state doesn’t deserve to be watched.