My kingdom for an indefinite amount of lesser things

Back to business here at FreeDarko. Hopefully we've managed to retain some of the extra thousands that clicked over here to get the lowdown on J.J., but don't go expecting that kind of bombshell on any regular basis. That kind of interaction with the outside world seems pretty counter to the professed FD goal of making the NBA, a public sports league, as esoteric, coded, cultish, subjective, and introspective as possible.

Speaking of which, over at McSweeney's today I explain the real reason I don't like seeing the Heat in the Finals. And no, saying that I have a perverse attachment to false glory is not the same thing as liking players who never get out on the floor. Let's just say that some athletes are meant to enjoy their own kind of winning, and watching the strive toward that is about as much as we can reasonably expect out of them. In fact, it's the exact opposite of the obsession with potential and imagination; it's inherently self-limiting and succumbs to a poor mockery of a real man's destiny. I would even go so far as to say that it should be more depressing than a player who idles forever, unless you switch up your perspective and accept that kooky actualization is its own reward.

Soaring potential can sustain itself until it's either definitively failed (Tim Thomas pre-now, Stromile Swift) or enjoyed some modicum of success. I guess I'd like to think that, rather than look at half-assed accomplishment as marking the end of fascination's road, it can be the start of a new, no less bombastic journey.