You and me, are we going to root for Karl Malone just because he's a geezer with a Hall of Fame-caliber career who, after partnering John Stockton through 17 meritorious seasons of Utah near-misses, took a whopper pay cut to sign with the Lakers for one more reach, at 40, for a championship ring?
Works for me.
My interest in pro basketball's regular season has become increasingly minimal. I have trouble finding players for whom I really, really want to cheer. Go for the spoiled kid in his hot Porsche, or a snarly veteran whose mansion garages are loaded with a Ferrari, a Mercedes and an Escalade?
Identifying with either is difficult.
Watching on TV, so-called highlights are overstuffed with dunks, 3-point shots and self-serving theatrics while lacking sharp, productive passes and cerebral, efficient defense.
ESPN, the co-conspirator.
They don't seem to want me. I'm beyond the age of NBA demographic targeting, as is Malone. I don't wear ballcaps backwards. My gym shorts are thigh-length, not drooping to the shins. No tattoos.
Not much in common, me and the NBA, but I still admire. My druthers are more Tim Duncan than Allen Iverson. I fully applaud Kevin Garnett but have trouble with Ron Artest.
If you've been tolerant enough to read this far, you've picked up a theme. But nobody ... nobody ... should ever underrate the physical opulence, rare skills and powerful dedication of nearly every dude on an NBA roster. There are no more extraordinary, unusual athletes in the world. You must see them in person, from the wondrous 5-foot-5 Earl Boykins to the mobile, gifted, global, 7-foot-5 Yao Ming, to appreciate the athletic propensities.
Looking back, to when my NBA interest was more abundant, it was due more than anything to appreciating the great teams repetitively competing for championships. That made me want to arrange my late Aprils, Mays and Junes so I could watch as many playoff games as possible.
As much as I have been mesmerized by the abilities, attitudes and tactics of Bill Russell, Michael Jordan, Wilt Chamberlain, Larry Bird, John Havlicek, Magic Johnson, Pete Maravich, Isiah Thomas, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Hakeem Olajuwon, Scottie Pippen, Bill Bradley, Julius Erving, Oscar Robertson, Jerry West, Bill Walton, Rick Barry and others, the more impressive portraits that hang in my head are of well-stacked, well-coached multiple winners.
Red Auerbach's Celtics.
Red Holzman's Knicks.
Chuck Daly's Pistons.
Phil Jackson's Bulls.
Bird's Celtics.
Jackson's Lakers.
We'll see if the current mix-and-match Lakers assortment of mega names - blending an ever-childish Shaquille O'Neal, the troubled Kobe Bryant, a complex Gary Payton and hungry graybeard Malone - can evolve into a bunch that, years from now, will be a vivid memory.
I'm doubtful. Every day, there can be a new court injunction. An internal fuss among really rich jocks. Pouting. But, it's almost May Day, so I'm watching. Hoping for some old-time NBA spark. Searching for a team worthy of being engraved in our hearts.
LAYUPS: Much as I detest the actions of Artest, with his arrogant quirks, the NBA was wrong to suspend him for almost charging from bench to court as a scuffle developed. For once, Ron deserved credit for using his head. ... Can't say I've ever seen anything to resemble Kurt Warner's fall from Super Bowl grace, to a QB that the Rams and maybe no other NFL teams want as a starter. ... Casey Zook, daughter of the Florida Gators football coach, was named Gainesville's best high school soccer defender. ... One of the sadder testimonies on the TV sports-talk concept is that Tom Arnold, a weak talent with superficial sports knowledge, can become a star.
THE LAST WORD: Speaking of Casey's dad, Ron Zook, who deals with unsubsiding pressure and enormous expectations as Steve Spurrier's successor (unlike Joe Gibbs in his Redskins comeback), the boss of the Gators surely must be envying the numbers of UF's tennis women who have a 22-0 record, are ranked No. 2 nationally and just won the school's 13th SEC championship in 17 seasons.
