I once spoke about passion for the game of basketball. Over a year ago I wrote this, attempting to put this place into some sort of focus, or set it on the right track, or just have a good time remembering basketball and what it meant to me growing up. Over the past week, if you’re an NBA fan, you had the chance to watch a very passionate player, Joakim Noah.
I hate Joakim Noah. I can’t stand him. The crazy fro-ish poof. The bad facial hair. The chest bumping. The screaming. All of it. I remember watching him play in the 2006 regionals in Minneapolis, waltzing his way to the Final Four in front of my very eyes, jumping around and chest bumping. How could a guy be so arrogant and cental to himself? He scores 11 points a game. What’s this guys problem?
Well. I think I understand now. He loves it. He loves basketball. When he stole the ball from Paul Pierce at the end of game 6 a few nights ago, dribbled it the length of the floor, and dunked it, you knew he’d come out thumping his chest and yelling. Afterall, it was a great play, in an amazing NBA playoff series. His antics are expected and at this point welcomed. When so many clowns in the NBA show little emotion, displaying Rasheed Wallace and his C.T.C syndrome (CTC = Cut the check for you non NBA followers out there), a little bit of life or vigor is welcome. I also understand that I couldn’t stand him when he played for Florida becuase they were too good. I viewed his antics as overboard and showboating.
So do what you do Joakim Noah. Your Bulls just lost game 7. That’s fine. Now I can be done with the NBA for the year.
