QUITTING LOSERS FOR BAD PLAYOFF MOOD

Quitting Losers is the worst show on television.

Last night’s episode was the Phoenix Suns quitting on the Denver Nuggets.

I’m not a fan of either team, but I am an NBA fan.

Why is it especially hurtful to watch professional players quit on a game?

As fans we invest emotional capitol, our time, at the expense of doing other things, like spending quality time with loved ones.

“Let’s talk later. The game is on,” is our mantra, our get out of jail code words.

Wife: Is it THE BIG GAME?

Me: It is.

Wife: The BIGGEST big game?

Me: It’s an elimination game in Round 2 of the NBA Playoffs.

Wife: How can it be such a big game if it’s not the finals?

Me: If Denver wins, they go to the Western Conference Finals. If Arizona wins they go to a Game 7.

Wife: Then that would be the BIG GAME. And you’re wasting time on this one?

Me: If Arizona loses they stop playing. It’s the end or their season and they go home.

Wife: The Phoenix Suns go home?

Me: Yes, if they lose.

Wife: They’re going home to Phoenix for the summer? I doubt it.

Me: Where ever they go they won’t be in Playoff Mode.

Wife: Playoff Mode? What’s that.

Me: It’s the time of the season where referees swallow their whistles instead of calling every foul, real or imagined.

Wife: Imagined? They call imagined fouls?

Me: There are rumors.

Wasted Time?

Why does it hurt more to see an NBA team full of quitting losers?

These are men who rose through the ranks from rec league, to classic, high school, college, and if they’re lucky, to the NBA, the National Basketball Association.

Doing so makes them the best athletes in the world, and here’s why:

Playing basketball at the highest level takes extreme body control along with strength, explosive ability on the jump and step, and a willingness, a voluntariness, to do repetitive motions for years on end until it’s not muscle memory, it’s memory with muscle.

How else can you explain a flat-out fast break with the ball on the right elbow where the player executes a high speed spin on a defender, cutting a diagonal line across the key and instead of shooting from the left side, lobs to the right of the rim for his high flying teammate.

And they make it look easy, like anyone could do it.

You could it; I could do it. That feeling lasts for about a second and it feels sooo good.

Quitting Losers Do It Too

After a team quits on a game, their biggest ‘must win’ of the season, how can you return to them next year?

How about a team that quits on their season, or several seasons?

Worst of all, what happens to fans when their team quits on their superstar player?

I’m looking at the Portland Trail Blazers and Damian Lillard.

Does the name ring a bell? Damian Lillard?

If you’ve never heard of Dame, then you’ve probably never heard of Jalen Brunson.

Players make their names when the pressure is greatest. At least that’s the idea.

Quitting losers don’t care if you know their name or not. Your feelings don’t matter, not when there’s money in the bank. Guaranteed money.

There used to be a sports myth that players are less motivated after they sign big contracts.

They got their bag, now they can relax, was the myth.

Was it a myth?

That professional players perform for money is a given. They get paid to play and do their part.

Since 1946 a long line of anonymous men have come and gone in the Association. Collecting paychecks, if not World titles, their names are in the Basketball Reference archives.

Some get recognized for their individual heroics in service to the game of basketball.

Where do quitting losers get recognized?

It’s the kind of career killing stench that will follow each Phoenix Sun traded to their next team, and their coach to wherever he assists next.

Talking The Talk

Wife: Who’s winning?

Me: I don’t know.

Wife: You don’t know the score?

Me: Denver has more points, but there’s something else going on.

Wife: And only you know about it? I can’t wait.

Me: Phoenix is quitting.

Wife: Is the game over?

Me: No.

Wife: This sounds bad.

Me: It makes me want to throw up.

Wife: Don’t do it on the couch again.

Me: I didn’t throw up, I spilled a plate of spaghetti.

Wife: I thought it was a bowl of ramen.

Me: That, too.

Wife: If it makes you sick, why do you keep watching. We could be streaming our new favorite show.

That’s the moment I changed the channel from the Phoenix Quitting Losers to the Netflix Medici.

Would I rather watch a documentary-drama about a 15th century Italian family made in 2016 than an 2023 NBA Playoff game?

It pains me to say yes. Quitters put me in a bad playoff mood.

I’m working hard to snap out of it.