B Ball

Like many of you I am having major sports withdrawals.

I miss the excitement of the NCAA March Madness tournament, even though my beloved Syracuse Orangemen would be lucky to get cheap nose bleed seats at the games. After falling in the buy in round of the NIT.

And I miss the contrived build up of anticipation for the NBA playoffs. Though we all know the Lakers would have wiped the floor with the Milwaukee Bucks and their Greek star whose name defies spellcheck.

And so, like many of you on Day 827 of the CV Quarantine, I am forced to turn to ESPN and their Hardwood Classics.

Last night's episode wasn't in living technicolor. It was Black and White. Fittingly so, as it highlighted the many differences between b-ball in 2020 and whatever game they were playing in 1969.

The first thing you notice is that in 1969, people had better things to do than spend $6.75 for a ticket and another 95 cents for a hot dog and a coke.

The stands are virtually empty.

I'm not easily impressed by pyrotechnics, perky cheerleaders and god awful bass driven house music, but once they're gone, the game seems to lack all kinds of sizzle. The announcers sound like their doing play by play at a funeral. And the players are equally flat footed.

Truth be told,  we had guys on my high school basketball team with more rhthym and range.

I've seen more two handed sets shots clanging off the rim than one would see at a rigged carnival midway.

The game is slow and messy. And the scores barely reach into the 70's.

Though the other day I watched the Buffalo Braves take on the Cleveland Cavaliers. And I did spot a very young Walt Frazier. His sideburns were muted. And his Afro had still not reached its gargantuan size.

Clearly the Clyde had not come into his own and the Golden Age of Basketball was not upon us.

Yet.