When my wife found me I was laying on the floor. I was curled in the fetal position, wearing my replica 2004 Olympics Argentina basketball jersey. I had laid all my Josh McRoberts rookie cards in a circle around myself, like a protective force field.
“Josh?” I called out.
My wife was understandably alarmed.
“Josh who?”
“Josh McRoberts! You’ve come for me! I knew you would, J-Rob!”
That’s when she flipped the light switch.
“No!” I screamed, crawling under the bed. “The light brings the owners! Turn it off! Donald Sterling can feel the heat — he has the senses of a moth!”
My wife had seen enough.
“We need to get you some help,” she said lovingly.
And then she hit me with the truth: “Sweetie, there’s not going to be a season this year.”
*** *** ***
In hindsight, I guess I knew it all along. We’ve been through this before. In 1998, owners and players locked out for reasons no fan cared about, drew battle lines around issues no fan can remember, and then congratulated themselves with much fanfare when a compromise was reached. Thanks, guys.
As for my breakdown, I’m doing much better now. I sought professional help and discovered that a full, happy life can be possible without an NBA season. After the editors at Dime bore witness to my recovery, they asked me to pen a comprehensive guide to surviving the lockout. With that in mind, let us begin our journey of hope and healing. You are not alone, friend.
Point #1: The Impersonation Window
First, the lockout provides an incredible opportunity to convince someone that you are an NBA player. All you need is a vaguely European-sounding accent. Tell the hot girl at the bar that you are Dmitri, a free agent-to-be with the Hawks. However, because of the lockout, teams cannot have contact with their players, and you are stranded in the city without a liaison. No one to teach you how to hail a cab… no one to teach you about American cuisine… no one to teach you about love. (Look off in the distance when you say that last part.)
Different approach. You will need to buy some horn-rimmed glasses and a sweater. Do you have a cardigan? Even better. You see, when a black man becomes an NBA star, one of the first things he does is start dressing like a big nerd. It’s true — oversized glasses, turtlenecks, sometimes even bowties. It’s as if these superstars are all trying to out-Rivers Cuomo each other. (Tip: If you don’t know who Rivers Cuomo is, that’s a good place to begin your research.)
Once you have perfected the look, walk right up to that cute girl in the bookstore. Politely get her attention with something like this:
“Excuse me, I don’t suppose you know where the Twilight books are, do you? I never get the chance to come in here during the season, but this lockout is really giving me some time to find myself, you know?”
Yes, Twilight. Do you want this to work or not?
Point #2: Increased Gaming
Sad to say, but sometimes it takes something as catastrophic as a lockout to give us time to get caught up on old hobbies. One of the ways you can pass the basketball-free months is to pull out your old gaming console and see if your thumbs still have the magic.
Isn’t that right, NBA JAM‘s Brad Lohaus?
BL: I’m not good at anything. (Sulks)
Well, I’m sure that many of our readers appreciate—
BL: No, I’m serious. I don’t have a single elite skill in this game. Blue Edwards is a horrible teammate and he won’t stop taking contested threes. I don’t want to be here.
(NBA JAM‘s Vernon Maxwell appears)
VM: Mad Max ’bout to burn this place down!
Hello, Vernon. Would you like to tell the readers what it’s like to have Hakeem Olajuwon as a teammate?
VM: AAAAAAAGGGHH! Rockets are my team! Hakeem is a chump.
(Takes 15 pull-up threes in a row, makes 13 of them)
Point #3: The Great Outdoors
Let’s face it: we could all use some more exercise. The thrill of competition which we so readily extract from watching NBA games can still be found at the park. True, we may not be able to dunk like Blake Griffin, but let’s not forget the simple pleasure of a crisp bounce pass. And smell that pristine winter air! This is poetry in motion, rising up to shoot a perfect jump shot that—
(Pair of 2006 Starburys crumble, turn to dust)
You know what? Screw this. It’s cold. Let’s go back inside.
Point #4: Back To The Basics
Tired of billionaires bickering with millionaires over salary caps and guaranteed contracts? Why not refresh the palette with some good old-fashioned high school hoops? Let’s find a local team and visit one of their home games. It will be fun — we can laugh at how we’re better than all these young kids!
No, don’t sit there. Never sit next to the AAU guy with oily hair and wads of bills falling out of his pockets. Let’s sit here instead.
Oh, look! The cheerleaders are doing a routine! I remember when I was in high school, I had the biggest crush on-
Wait, why are they doing that? What are they doing with their bodies? Oh sweet heavens. Let’s…uh…let’s not look at that. I suddenly feel very uncomfortable.
(Goes to restroom, splashes cold water on face)
Alright! The game is starting! Now, for some basketball in its purest form!
DUNK
DUNK
DUNK
DUNK
DUNK
DUNK
DUNK
ALLEY-OOP DUNK
(Buzzer sounds, goes home dejectedly, makes PlayStation character for self, 99 rating in every category)
Point #5: The Last Resort
Okay, so you’re still depressed. Nothing has worked. The absence of the season has created a void inside you, a hole so deep and empty that nothing could possibly fill it.
Wrong.
Nerfoop, suckers.
Go into your room, slide the metal clip over the door, and shut yourself in. Your room is now Madison Square Garden. Recall the moves that made you the bane of your younger brother. Rediscover your patented behind-the-bed three. Re-master the laser-like trajectory of your release. Laugh as your opponents graze the ceiling when their errant attempts arc too high.
If you have a spouse, this can be an excellent couple-building experience. And by “couple-building experience”, I mean “you can violently dunk on one another.”
My Nerfoop game has been referred to as Bo Outlaw-esque. My wife is more of a poor man’s Damon Stoudamire. Be careful, though, fellas: When it comes to Nerfoop, women be elbowin’.
*** *** ***
Dime encourages you to put all of the preceding ideas into practice to help you survive the lockout. If you still feel depressed and need someone to recite basketball statistics over the phone until you arrive at a safe place emotionally, call the Dime offices. Just remember: We can get through this together.
But, seriously, though: Call me, J-Rob. Let’s go, like, hang out in the food court or something.
Follow Matthew on Twitter at @ongreenmountain.
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