This is an NBA view.  Yes of course, I know you’re more accustomed to reading NBA previews, but this is how I roll.  See, I typically don’t get much of a chance to see summer league or preseason action, (especially this year, since the sublet I occupied through Oct. didn’t have cable,) so it takes me a while to get a sense of what’s going on in the League, and provide readers with the fecund bounty of my foresight.*  I know some people might think this is somehow “cheating.”  But those people would be wrong.  I don’t make contest out of this stuff; it’s just a mental exercise for me.  (Granted, that’s mostly because I don’t have the dough to make even the mildest preseason wager, but that’s beside the point.)  And anyway, as you might know from my Finals prediction last season—Orlando winning in nine—I’m not terribly concerned with being right.  This is good, because I’m not off to a great start this year, already flubbing a number of early season micro-predictions—namely, guessing which games will be the best ones to watch.  In my defense, I’ve never faced such odds before—that is, before I purchased the almighty Season Pass, which avails a staggering number of NBA games to satisfy my basketball junkie need.  It’s been all but overwhelming, and I’ve already spent many, many hours in my living room, sitting and staring into the very glowing nexus of professional basketball—hosted by Chris Webber, and Co.  And I like it.**

The only problem with having Season Pass is that I’m missing more good games than ever before.  In previous seasons, when my hoops purview was limited to local games and whatever was being nationally broadcast, (that is to say, Lakers games,) I didn’t really miss good games, because I didn’t have the option to see most of them.  The first time I even saw Kevin Durant was when I traveled to Oklahoma City for the Freeballin’ project.  Now, with almost every game at my fingertips, if I miss a good one, it’s because I chose the wrong game to watch.  For instance, on the second night of the season I decided against the Nets/TWolves matchup, opting instead for…well, like any of six other games that seemed like they’d be more fun.  And wouldn’t you know it, the Nets lost at the wire 93–95.  I also missed the Nets losing to the 76ers, 94–97 and falling to the Heat last night, 80–81***.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve watched some terrific games already this season, and seen some really great stuff—like LeBron/Wade going all Corrales/Castillo in the first quarter last Thursday.  But I can only watch one game at a time (or two, actually, with DVR allowing me to go back in time,) and since there are often what five, seven games a night?  Chances are I won’t catch the best one.  So along with those Nets losses, I’ve also missed Denver 97–Portland 94; Sacramento 127–Memphis 116 (OT); Cippers 93–Memphis 90; and Boston 92–Minnesota 90, among others.

Given a plethora of options, would you really have picked any of those game as winners, except Denver/Portland?  (And I was too sleepy for a West Coaster that night.)  There’s always a chance that a lousy team like Minnesota is going to put up an usually good fight against a top team.  But you can’t bet on it, right?  Also, two crappy teams going at it can make for some close finishes—but those games are often like that movie Dogfight (with formerly alive River Phoenix and umm…Lili Taylor) where dudes compete to find the homeliest girl to bring to the party.  Games between two crap teams is a contest of who sucks worse; Minnesota only won because one team had to win.

However, every so often crappy (or just young) teams coalesce for one night and look like contenders.  That’s a lot of fun to watch.  And also, you (meaning me) have to remember that many of those great last minute finishes start as blowouts.  Who knows when Ben Gordon and Charlie Villanueva are going to combine for 30 points in the fourth quarter against the Lakers.  You just never know.  If you don’t sit through 20-point fourth quarter deficits, you’ll never see the truly incredible, like Tracy McGrady’s 13 points in 33 seconds, (which is easily among the Top Five All-Time Relatively Insignificant Sequences in NBA history.)  Sure it’s never likely that any given game will feature an amazing or almost-amazing comeback—that’s why they’re so thrilling.  So I just try never to quit on a game because it’s lopsided.  Mind you, I do things in my life other than watch basketball (sort of) but if I’ve allotted the time for a game, I’m going to watch the damn thing.  And these days it’s easy to catch the magic of the unlikely without sacrificing too much of your time.  I mean, I don’t always pay attention to every play in a lopsided game.  You can do other stuff with the game on in the background and check in when the telecasters get excited, to see if anything’s going on.  With DVR, you don’t miss a thing.  Me, I try to utilize a blowout by being productive, like: doing my bills, retyping old To Do lists, and writing to my hottie prison pen-pals, (which is like drafting a rookie who needs a few years to develop.)  And when the something great happens, I’m right there to catch it.  Oh, and if you don’t immediately recognize the brilliance of corresponding with hotties behind bars, you’ve clearly a) never seen Girls in Prison or b) never drafted Rashard Lewis straight out of high school.  I recommend both.

* – Ever write a sentence and then have an urge to replace one word that would make the sentence entirely incoherent, but also kind of cool or bizarre?  Me too!  At some point in my life, be it tomorrow or ten years from now, I’m going to find a way to fit, “…to provide readers with the fecund bounty of my foreskin,” into a piece of writing, such that it makes complete sense.  It will be a work of fiction, I promise.

**- I should mention that Webber’s commentary is no small bonus, to me.  I actually didn’t care for him for a long time; ever since his rookie year, when he complained and pushed for the Warriors to switch from white sneakers to black sneakers, I knew he was going to be a jerk.  Rookies shouldn’t complain about anything unless they’re hemorrhaging.  But at some point he started dating Tyra Banks—in her prime—and since then I take his thoughts on all matters very seriously.  The man knows what he’s doing.

*** – I’m also due to miss the Nets losing to Indiana 84-87 on the 17th, and a heartbreaker to Milwaukee 94–95 the following night.  Finally, giving in, I will watch the Nets/Knicks game on Nov. 21^st–because watching a fake grudge-match between two awful teams is a surefire winner–in which the Nets blowout the Knicks for their first win of the season.  Meanwhile, I will be missing a 3OT game on another channel.

Since hitchhiking is my primary mode of transportation for my profession, I think of myself as a hitchhiking commuter.  My commute changes every day, of course, but I don’t think it’s any stranger than taking the train to work.  OK, yes it is, but the concept of strangeness has rarely influenced my decision-making.  However, I must admit that I do feel a bit ridiculous, because, well…how many other hitchhikers carefully consult local authorities on the legality of hitchhiking?  I suppose maybe there’s a touch of irreverentdisregard for social norms inherent to hitchhiking.  It does seem to connote a certain post-adolescant Fuck Authority! statement.  But me?  Hell, I just want to get from point A to B, paying with my time rather than my money, of which I’ve so little.  Well, I did some researching and it looks like if I fight the law, in Florida, the law will win.

This morning I called the Miami police department, who informed me that there was a city ordinance against hitchhiking, and they arrest us poor travelers.  Like a 50lbs pack isn’t enough weight without the Law pressing me down?  OK, I’m a law-abiding citizen (because I have to, since Mom and Dad aren’t diplomats) and I can get out of Miami-Dade County on public transportation, so no sweat.  So I called the police in West Palm Beach, same answer.  But OK, no sweat, I can take public transportation into Jupiter.  Unfortunately, Jupiter has no public transportation, so I called the local police department to find out about hitchhiking.  Not only is it illegal, but the officer checked and it’s illegal all the way up I-95, and Florida Highway Patrol arrest hitchhikers on sight.

As I said, I don’t hitchhike for the romance of it (as one friend of mine so bashfully admitted he does) I hitchhike to get somewhere.  And at this point, it seems the US map is only dappled with areas where it’s legal to hitchhike.  Well, I actually don’t know that.  The issue is that state law tends to be somewhat permissive; none of the laws explicitly allow hitchhiking, rather it’s illegal on the interstate and where there’s no shoulder on which cars can safely pull over to pick you up.  However, all the major cities where I’ve looked to hitchhike have city ordinances against it.  And I really don’t have the time or money to get arrested.

This doesn’t mean I’m giving up hitchhiking, not hardly.  It means that I will need to hitchhike in fairly limited circumstances, namely: rural areas, truckstops, and on entrances to the interstate, at the bottom (only) of the ramp, and college towns, I think, especially on roads exiting campuses.  Now, I can get tens of thousands of miles out of this strategy, but it complicates things, and makes East Coast hitchhiking especially difficult.  So my couchsurfing/craigslist rideshare requests are going to have to be planned way in advance, in places where I can’t hitchhike.

Whatever.  So be it.  This didn’t promise to be a quick and easy solution to getting around America, and I’ll make it work.  But I’m not too grumpy; I’ve got a game tomorrow.