It's that time of year again. The NBA Finals have started, and tons of people have come out of the woodwork to pretend like they've been watching basketball all along. You know these people. They haven't watched a game since Christmas (the Slam Dunk Contest doesn't count, and I know your attention span isn't long enough to watch the All-Star Game), and suddenly, they're Hubie Brown. They expect you to trust their analysis when they don't even know who's on the Spurs roster this year. This is the time of year when you get such insightful gems like, "I don't think Lebron James plays with enough heart." Thank you, Skip Bayless.
They figure because they know a little something about the Miami Heat, that makes them a basketball aficionado. It doesn't, assholes. Knowing something about the Miami Heat is like knowing something about "Jersey Shore." You didn't have to actually watch it to know who had herpes. Everyone on that team is a star. Three of the biggest names in the NBA are on there, along with Ray Allen, who everyone remembers from the Celtics, and Chris Andersen, whose tattoo turtleneck makes him look like a fucking clown. The Heat are as much of a mystery as Dora the Explorer. You're not impressing anyone with your encyclopaedic knowledge.
If they wanted to impress someone, they'd tell us something about San Antonio. If you're a true basketball fan, you'll know something about the NBA's least marketable team for the last 20 years. Never before has a team been this successful while also being this boring. The NBA would rather have the Milwaukee Bucks in the Finals, because at least Brandon Jennings will have a wild haircut. Now, the bandwagoners are like, "Oh, yeah, I know them. They're boring as hell." And that's how I know they don't watch, because San Antonio has been pretty entertaining since Popovich remembered that Tony Parker isn't 47 years old, like Tim Duncan. Just because Tony Parker looks like he's thinking about ruining another marriage when he's on the floor doesn't mean that they can't hold your attention.
I'd rather the bandwagoners not watch sports at all, then show up at the end, like half of the people watching the Super Bowl. They know they'd rather watch "Love & Hip-Hop: Atlanta," so who are they trying to fool? Their half-hearted interest is actually ruining everything, because they're the ones who made sports owners add concerts to every sporting event. Because for them, the two best teams battling at the end of a hard-fought tournament for league supremacy isn't enough. The greatest players in the world locked in competition isn't enough of a lure.
But horseshit like Beyonce performing at halftime? Suddenly, it just became appealing. "OMG! Do you think she lost all the baby weight?" That's all it takes for all the men in the room to want to jam that beer bottle into their wrists. At least until Beyonce actually appears on screen. Then, they can talk about that baby weight or how Kim Kardashian is a whore all they want to, because no one is listening.
So thanks a lot, bandwagon fans and idle spectators. The league's desire to keep your interest instead of maintaining ours got Jessica Simpson booed at the Rose Bowl. I hope you're happy.
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