Boy is it ever pretty outside. The sky is a clear pale blue, a hue of frigid beauty like the eyes of a Valkyrie. The trees are still largely leaved in reds and browns and even some greens, and there is a polished alabaster coat of snow glowing on the ground. Nothing could ruin this splendid morning, well nothing except the NBA labor dispute.
That’s right folks, two more weeks have officially been removed from the NBA calendar. While that is legitimately disappointing in and of itself, the worst part is, when I sat down with my cereal this morning and played my NBAtv recording of game 3 of the 1993 NBA Finals, the one where Phoenix comes to Chicago and finally breaks through and shows that they belong in the series in an exciting road win, that game 3, what do I get? One quarter’s worth of game action and then a cycle of the same news conferences about the lockout over and over for the rest of the broadcast.
What the hell, NBAtv? When are you and every other television station going to figure out that nobody under the age of 60 gets their news from your flickering box anymore? Seriously, if you want to impart infotainment to your audience’s eyeballs, friend us all on Facebook and convince us to add your RSS. It’s your only hope.
Now here I am, trying to enjoy my view in this freezing apartment over the hiss of the heater (seriously this thing hisses louder than the anaconda from “Anaconda”) with no Marv Albert / Michael Jordan / Charles Barkley combo to take my mind off my troubles. Way to ruin my Sunday morning. I might as well put some pants on and go to church, by Odin! Or go occupy Wall Street, by the 1st Amendment! Something. Dag.