The NBA Second Round and Infinity

When I was in the sixth grade, my English teacher gave us the writing prompt “What does the second round of the 2023 NBA playoffs mean to you?” I thought it oddly specific and hard to imagine; I was 11 years old at the time and preparing for the end-of-the-school-year trip to Cedar Point, steeling myself for a ride on the Iron Dragon, the largest roller coaster I could handle at the time. Still, in a state of Zen-like stupor, I managed to write the following, which seems oddly prescient, given that the majority of the players I wrote about were not yet born. What can I say? I was an odd kid.

Eight is infinite; nine is the odd completion of the self

8 Miami
There is heat, and there is humidity, and there are underdogs who are millionaires and the best athletes on the planet, and all of these things can coexist without stretching the mind too far. So many folks read the names Duncan Robinson and Max Strus, and they laugh--how can such men, held in such little regard in their own industry, be the topplers of giants? How did they bring down the mighty Giannis, how are they mere shrinking increments away from achieving what they did years ago in that plague-addled year? Superman's affinity for our sun gave him his powers; perhaps being in those southern climes is doing the same for the Heat. I can doubt no longer what Jimmy Butler III is capable of. My god, the third! How could there have been two such gods before this!

7 LA Lakers
It's time. Not as in "it's time to go to the grocery store" or "it's time for the dog to be let out," but rather "it is time"; it is time itself, this thingum we give all our attentions to, all our waking hours (and many of our sleeping ones). Time rules us all. Even baseball, that clockless wonder, has succumbed, seconds no longer freely frittered away on the mound. Los Angeles has levels of dynamos dealing with their own clocks. The great Trout wants a title, but he does not need one to demarcate his greatness. The impossible Ohtani may be running out of time in his current home. Or he may stay close by, trading red for blue, shifting colors but not cities. And larger than all of them, seemingly larger than time itself, is one LeBron James. He defies the defiers, but only for so long. He has titles, but many say he still needs one or two more. He has changed colors over and again, once vilified for it, now seen as a leader, a harbinger for the era of player freedom. He defies time, defies it all, does what he will, does what he must. And we continue to watch, be it morning or night.

6 Golden State
To take on a name greater than yourself is to set yourself up for mockery should you fail. The San Francisco Warriors (albeit in a different city) won multiple championships under the banner of a single city, including the first title recognized by its own league. That's good! And yet, how audacious they felt that that was not enough, that they needed to represent not just a city, but an entire state. And not just by becoming the California Warriors. No, they said that they would shine, that they would be the all-caps-before-all-caps-was-a-thing GOLDEN STATE WARRIORS! And there were fallow times for this team, yes, but what a decade they've had! (Dear reader, please excuse the exclamation marks, for as much as your equally dear author has had his hopes dashed by this squad, he does not fail to recognize the awesome eviscerations this squad can wreak over an association.) Yes, the luster may finally be fading, but be assured I shall stand and clap and salute the collective greatness of this group. Except for Draymond Green. He knows what he did.

5 New York
When the sports cliche about a league being better by having certain tentpole franchises exist in a state of success, said franchises are located mostly in large cities, and mostly that large city is New York. Sometimes it is easy for a league to achieve this (see the Yankees, New York), sometimes not so much (see the Jets and Giants, New York). For the NBA, it has been a struggle. The frozen envelope nearly did it. Jay-Z nearly did it. But not yet. There's a building being created within Madison Square Garden, built by yeoman such as Tom Thibodeau and Julius Randle and Jalen Brunson. Can you create something stable with three cornerstones? Is the proper number one, or four, or 1970? Lord knows they've been trying to conjure something up there, and lord knows the celebration when they finally win a title again (and yes it's when [everything is when on a cosmic scale), the celebration will be raucous, and it will be rowdy, and it will be spectacular.

4 Phoenix
My brother lives in Phoenix. Or the outskirts, rather (though from what I gather Phoenix is mostly outskirts). He's been out there long enough to see the Seven Seconds or Less Suns, What Robert Sarver Hath Wrought, and the entirety of the Devin Booker Experience. He's seen Deandre Ayton chosen over Luka Doncic. He's seen the import of Kevin Durant. He has not yet seen the Phoenix Suns win an NBA championship. Again (see above re: cosmic scales), some version of him will see some version of the Suns win some version of a title in some version of a universe. If I knew where all those versions coincided, I'd be a rich smart famous important man.

3 Philadelphia
Do you remember the "Who Shot Mr. Burns?" episode of The Simpsons, specifically when Mr. Burns goes into shock, and the only words he can utter are "Homer Simpson''? I feel that way sometimes when I'm watching the 76ers play, and all I can do is mutter Joel Embiids's name, sometimes in awe, sometimes an oath, sometimes as an expletive. If his feet could handle the strain, I'd give him the ball every single damn possession and let everything else sort itself out. Zydrunas Ilguaskas ran so Joel Embiid could walk. I have no doubt that Victor Wembanyana will slide into this lineage after his redshirt injury years.

2 Boston
Is it fair to denigrate an entire team, an entire city, because of those Sam Adams "Your Cousin From Baaahhston" ads? It's not even that I dislike them, but rather that they're too effective, too earwormy that I cannot read the name of that great city without hearing that godawful accent ring through my ears. I was a Celtics fan as a kid, just missing out on their title runs of the 80s, latching onto them after receiving a Kevin McHale signature basketball and reading Larry Bird's opus "Drive: The Story of My Life" (long before I knew who Bob Ryan was). I cried when Reggie Lewis died. Marcus Smart is one of the few players in the league who I actively wish played for my hometown Cavaliers. Please, Sam, for me, for all of us, send your cousin packing--I'm sure Kevin McHale is available to do a few commercials.

1 Denver
What do you think when you hear the name Jeff Green? A 12/4/2 glue guy? A solid defender? A basketball nomad? An integral bench player for the best remaining team in the playoffs? A man who has earned roughly 90 million dollars over a 15-year career? He's all of those things. He's not the star; he's playing about 19 minutes a game this postseason. When you look up how many championships he's won, the answer is zero, but if we're being fair, that's the same number that the vast vast majority of us on this earth have won. Would I trade places with Jeff Green if I could? Probably not. Would Jeff Green trade places with me? Again, probably not. If you ever meet him, please ask him that for me. I'm slightly curious.

9/0 The Finals
They are nearly upon us. The name implies there will never be another, but we know (or at least hope) that is not the case. Next year brings new characters (though I won't be the least bit surprised to see Jimmy and LeBron and even good old Jeff Green right back here again). There's no ninth team in an eight-team field, no final boss lurking to take down whoever completes the journey. There is also no Team Zero, no ur-team to conquer (as much as everyone wants to know how whichever current champion there is would do against the '96 Bulls). The winner is the winner is the winner. So it is in sports, so it is in life.

Except you, Draymond. You know what you did.

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