Travel Blog - Day 12: An American in Paros

In one of the more blasphemous tracts extracted from the post-Pentagon papers of 2018, the time-traveler Oscar "Mercury" Robertson slipped this line into an analysis of the great lockout of 2011:

There is no rebirth. There is no lockout. There is no God.

Whether it's right or wrong (following Thucydides), the owners and players have more bargaining power than the fans, and so they will do what they can, as the fans suffer what we must. But I think this can give us a lens for appreciating the lockout just as we might appreciate a playoff series, as I'll try to explain.

You see...back in 2010, when the Lakers played the Celtics in the Finals, for most fans, the season was over. Either of the most banal, sketchiest contenders would prevail. And it was, as it had to be, the most cynical series that I have ever witnessed. To describe it is to encapsulate it: Kobe took over for a third quarter and left his teammates to wither and rot in the fourth quarter. Ray Allen shot seven threes in a half, but (seemingly psychologically) struggled the rest of the series and ended up right around average. Rajon Rondo probably got an obscene statline in a couple games because of a tremendous third quarter in which he was ubiquitous. The home team got a free throw disparity and won by a margin comfortably fitting this free throw disparity. Pau Gasol was and is less talented than Kobe but because he rebounded and had better percentages he probably played more effectively. When Kobe rebounded and forced his way into the lane all of this became more forgivable and his team won Game 7. Phil Jackson and Doc Rivers were calm and balanced. Kevin Garnett got beaten by Pau Gasol. Etc. Etc.

Unlearning Basketball.

There's a cutesy little question sometimes asked about addition: "Why is it that when you add a cloud to a cloud, you get one cloud? Does one plus one equal one?" On the face of it, this is radically stupid populism: You are applying the definition of "adding" far beyond its definition to integers, to imply some sort of willful oppression on the part of mathematicians to restrict your thoughts. But going a little bit deeper, why *can't* we add clouds? The answer is a radical conspiracy on the part of mathematicians to restrict your thoughts.

Adding the addition of clouds to the addition of numbers not only unsettles our intuition for adding, but also improves our understanding, and I believe, only moves us closer to the day when we can aggregate people correctly, without distorting the particular; that is, without distorting the individual. And it is for this - this addition of people - that I have spent 38 years on the lam from the mathematical establishment, hoping only, through the grace of God, that they will hear me out. My experiments with adding people have yielded some fruit, though they are ultimately indefensible. Only a real, scientific community can truly address this great problem. Is it schizophrenia if God really exists? But that is neither here or there.

In this modality of thinking, both in abstraction and paranoia, let's un-remember basketball. All you know and all you have dreamt about it - let's un-remember it for the purpose of this write-up. Let's take what we currently remember about basketball, and... un-remember that aspect. Let's... forget. That's right; Commissioner David Stern is making you forget. He is waving his hand in front of your face in ways the human hand can't and shouldn't move, and you are tripping out on the motion of his hands, and you are feeling dazed. On this day of his awful, grotesque hands and their motions, you are forgetting basketball, and quickly. All of the players, all of the coaches, all of the details, even "Space Jam" are all being forgotten. Now you're passing out. Fade to black. Stern's laughing accompanies your fall and your sudden amnesia. Finally you forget David Stern, last of all.

Yet Another David Stern as Lovecraftian Figure Blog

Have you ever been in a room with a lot of bad vibes, and just thought, "Everyone is looking at me"? And then, of course, you realized that if they weren't looking at you before, their telepathy had certainly picked up on that thought, and were now focused on you? That's sort of what being in a league overseen by David Stern is like. I've seen NBA headquarters, behind the office building fronts on every continent: I've seen how they all connect below the surface of the earth. I've seen the snakes in the tunnels, David. I have wept in underground tunnels in terror but like Lot fleeing, dared not avert my gaze.

By order of the Commissioner (Владимир "David" стярн), you can only view the true underground headquarters through a special "context visor" full of mirrors and lenses and distortions. Stern says that those without the visor are susceptible to attacks by rabid former players. I know he's just concerned with the image of the NBA, but it seems excessive. No doubt the visor was rigged by Stern to increase my fear and marketability, but there is simply no way to know for sure - whether the snakes I saw were real - without removing the visor and risking a fatal encounter.

Oh yes, there are hundreds of snakes.