My son's passion for sports faded years ago on the baseball diamond, but, now, thanks to the 2015-16 Golden State Warriors, it's enjoying a renewed focus and, with that, a former connection between him and myself has been reborn.
They’re already the greatest in my book.
Whether they complete the incredible and officially record an all-time best 73-win tour de force through an NBA season with a victory tonight against the Memphis Grizzlies or not is immaterial to me. Same thing with snaring a second straight title. Because what the 2015-16 Golden State Warriors have provided me is far greater, far more personally fulfilling than any statistical stunner, eye-popping fact or gold-plated trophy ever could.
In short, their unified basketball brilliance and unfettered entertainment talent has sparked a sports connection with my son to be reborn. May sound trite or silly, but when athletic endeavors have so influenced your own life, just about all of it, for better or worse, trust me on this one, it’s a pretty big deal.
The kind that really hits home when it isn’t there … even if everything else is.
Seemingly soured by the politics of youth sports, especially the ridiculous scenario of fathers favoring their kids and their friends’ kids, most, in my son’s case, far less physically and baseball-IQ blessed than him, while coaching them to the benefit of no one that far too often permeates Little League, he drifted into an abyss of playing video games, despising sports and, in general, embracing laziness.
Save for some overtures with surfing and even more with skateboarding, which at least got him out of the house, in some fresh air, and – gasp – performing acts that could constitute legitimate exercise, thought that pretty much would be forever the case.
Oh, he’d go to a game with me. Heck, he’d go to a lot of games with me.
Football. Basketball. Baseball.
In Philly. Or not.
To hang with dad and, more important, grab some Chickie’s & Pete’s Crab Fries “at home” or pizza “on the road.” But that was it. No real interest in the games at hand, and even less in understanding the sports themselves.
Hence, no connection for us two along those lines.
Then along came this season’s Warriors.
Frankly, while others persist with their silliness in promoting the “inferior to the 72-win Chicago Bulls of 1995-96” manifesto, my mind can’t seem to fully grasp the concept that Golden State would prevail if a likely rematch of last year’s NBA Finals with suddenly surging Cleveland and a laser-focused LeBron James took place in June.
But, right now, really don’t care. These Warriors are still the greatest to me and probably always will be.
When your kid goes from staring blankly when hearing any sports comment for years and years to excitedly popping off himself about how a role player such as Harrison Barnes has stepped up his game the last few weeks, umm, not even a Steph Curry swish from 30 feet is as sweet.
Impassioned and pumped, inspired by the likes of Curry, Barnes, Klay Thompson and Draymond Green, my son even talks about getting back to playing basketball, and possibly other sports, now as well.
For the love of it. Thank you, Warriors.
- Jack Kerwin | email@example.com
... What (they) have provided me is far greater, far more personal than any statistical stunner, eye-popping fact or gold-plated trophy ever could. In short, their unified basketball brilliance and unfettered entertainment talent has sparked a sports connection with my son to be reborn. May sound trite or silly, but when athletic endeavors have so influenced your own life, just about all of it, for better or worse, trust me on this one, it’s a pretty big deal. The kind that really hits home when it isn’t there … even if everything else is.