Why Do You Even Care?
Heat fans and guys like Plaschke have made such a ridiculous deal out of this idea that we shouldn’t be allowed to hate the Heat, that in the end I’m left to wonder – what the hell does it matter? We’re supposedly wrong because we don’t hate Jason Kidd because he once assaulted his crazy ex-wife. Who said we don’t hate him, too? He just has the convenience of playing against the Heat. But again, it’s the sloppy argument that because we cheer on the Mavs, we’re condoning domestic violence, or statutory rape in the case of DeShawn Stevenson. I’m going to let you in on a secret – calling us racist or telling us that we condone Kidd hitting his wife doesn’t make us hate the Heat any less.
Let us hate. It makes us feel good, and it should make real, honest-to-gosh Heat fans feel good, too. Because our hatred just created one of the best 6-game NBA Finals in history, and our loathing gave the league a huge boost in a time that it desperately needs it.
Instead of calling us haters and crying about all the negative attention, why not just thank us for giving the Heat so much of our time and effort? Why not try acting like the big boy team that Wade set out to create and finally embrace the role of the bad guy? It works for the Yankees and the Lakers and their fans don’t cry about people hating them. They beg people to hate them. Because when they win their championship it makes them so much sweeter.