Tag Archives: Fandom

The Dusty Jumper: A Memoir About Basketball, Adolescence, Anxiety, Identity and NBA Fandom

Hello Good People,

I finally finished editing. I have slowly destroyed my inner perfectionist. Or maybe I just got older. Or both. Words are never finished. Writing is never done. But this book is…at last.

http://www.blurb.com/b/8005459-the-dusty-jumper

The Dusty Jumper is a basketball memoir from a child of the 80s. A collection of tied-together moments from two decades of personal experiences and NBA-related writing. Pieces of a puzzle that concludes with the idea that we are all human. Writing that takes hoops as a centering theme but is really about people and our need to play, cheer, watch, read, and write, and generally connect to something bigger than ourselves.

Good for summer reading. Easy to carry around. Short passages. Basketball. Adolescence. Fandom. Anxiety. Hopefully, you’ll find it mildly humorous and somewhat poetic, though I’m not paid to be a comedian or a poet…(though, usually, comedians and poets are broke).

If you have promotion suggestions, feel free to send any thoughts my way. I’m not a marketing guru, if that wasn’t obvious.

I can tell you the book costs $10, which is less than two pints of gelato, unless they’re on sale.

Happy summer reading,
Jonah

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Fandom, Volume 48 (A New NBA Season)

The NBA season started a week ago. I’m entering my 25th season of NBA fandom. Or it might be my 24th season. Maybe my 27th. Somewhere in there. I don’t get paid to be a fan, so I can’t tell you for sure. I was probably 11 when I started really caring about the Celtics. When I watched every game I could watch (even though we didn’t have cable, and mostly got to see away games).

I love NBA basketball. I love the Boston Celtics. I love tiny point guards, skittering their way into those canopies of behemoths under the rim. I love goofy seven-footers, who struggle to run without losing their balance. I love the last few minutes of the half and the game, when the intensity rises. I love momentum swings, all the more common in today’s NBA than in the slow-paced game of the 1990s and early 2000s. The 2-minute runs which wipe out the other team, leaving all 10 men breathless as they head toward the bench when the too-late timeout is mercifully called.

As I write this, I’m exhausted. I have been exhausted for about three weeks. I am a teacher and this time of year (pre-Thanksgiving break) is always a demanding time. After today, there will be two more school days (Thursday and Friday) that will involve me leaving my house before sunrise. Sunday we set the clocks back an hour and the sun will rise at 6:35.

Being a high school teacher is usually exhausting. Fortunately, my schedule this year allows me to leave school early four days a week. I should enjoy the flexibility. But teaching is draining, and there are zero days where you can sit at a desk and read articles online, drink coffee, and generally just float through. If I expected less of myself, I would show a movie and ignore my students. Then, I suppose I could drink coffee and just float through. But that’s not what a good teacher does. If you show a movie, you keep an eye on the crowd. Who fell asleep? Who is on their phone for ten straight minutes? Who is messing with other students? If you show a movie, you stop the movie and ask questions. You have students summarize. You help students connect the dots. But all of this has nothing to do with the NBA and everything to do with the fact that I’m exhausted.

The flow of an NBA game is so different than a baseball or football game. It is constant. It’s not a headache to forward through commercial breaks. You can watch a full NBA game in an hour, sometimes less if you skip free-throws. If you live on the west coast and you’re a Celtics fan, you can start the game at 8:30 and be done by 9:30 or 9:45.

The NBA season guides me through the winter and into the spring. The Celtics are good again. I can expect more satisfying endings and fewer gut-punches. 82 games is a long season. They’ve played three.

Maybe its the feeling of possibility that each sporting season represents. Yep, that definitely adds to the allure of sports. The older we get, the less possibility seems alive in things. You have to fight to keep believing in possibilities. Especially in this endless swamp of an election season. Teaching teenagers keeps me believing in the necessity of hope, even if I seem more hopeful than many of them do at times.

A new season. Sisyphus and his boulder or a sea of endless possibilities? Both.

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Steven Adams Is Not A Biscuit Dipped in A Cup of Loose Leaf Jasmine Tea

Steven Adams was not the original joker.                    (via @realstevenadams)

Oklahoma City Thunder center Steven Adams is somehow anchoring the manic intensity of his teammates, providing a baseline of unshakable defense in the Western Conference Finals.

Steven Adams is not changing your baby girl’s diapers. Not anymore.

Steven Adams is thoroughly inside the head of Golden State’s Draymond Green, providing Green a proverbial dose of his own bitter medicine.

Steven Adams is not capable of stopping that incessant hammering noise outside your window.

Steven Adams is an impossibly agile human obstacle, which prompted Green to kick Adams in the nether region. Some claim this was accidental or inadvertent. Either way, it altered the balance of the series by uniting the Thunder faithful in a “Kick Him Out!” chorus, possibly deflating Green’s confidence, forcing the NBA media world to debate Green’s intentions, becoming the controversial sports topic du jour after Game 3.

Steven Adams is not going to return your lost library books.

Steven Adams is a stream of thick mud, arms flailing, clogging up the interior passing of Warriors big men.

Steven Adams is not an antipodean wandering albatross, one of New Zealand’s endangered species.

Steven Adams is a rare, but not endangered, species.

Steven Adams is not a licensed therapist, though he is clearly a young zen-master.

Steven Adams is the youngest of a family of giant, perhaps mythological, New Zealanders.

Steven Adams is not really of this planet, though New Zealand does exist, in an otherworldly sort of way.

Steven Adams is the enigmatic sorcerer of this year’s NBA playoffs.

Steven Adams is not willing to share his secret sorcery recipes, not even the homeopathic one you can make with ingredients from Walgreens’ first aid aisle.

Steven Adams is doing damage to the Warriors’ collective psyche; more damage than stats are able to measure (psychological torture is not yet in the box score).

Steven Adams is not a biscuit dipped in a cup of loose leaf Jasmine tea.

Steven Adams is a damn good biscuit, though.

(via allrecipes.com: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/9816/anzac-biscuits-i/

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Donate to the dogs:

https://darkoindex.com/donate-to-the-dogs/

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Related Items:

Steph Curry Is Not the Most Satisfying Nap You’ve Ever Taken!

http://www.splicetoday.com/sports/steph-curry-is-not-the-most-satisfying-nap-you-ve-ever-taken

Russell Westbrook’s Evolving Career in Twelve Simple Steps!

http://www.splicetoday.com/sports/russell-westbrook-s-evolving-career-in-12-simple-steps

 

 

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