There really is something beautifully poetic about the fact that I find myself living in New England on the eve of what some are calling the NBA Apocalypse: the meeting of the LA Lakers and Boston Celtics in the NBA finals for the first time in twenty-one years.
For starters, I was bred on this east coast / west coast rivalry. Memories of my father as a child, and I swear this is true, always include the colors yellow and purple in my recollections, no matter what the context. And now that he has two grown children residing in Boston, with the ability to bear witness to this inevitable match-up first hand (To scalp or not to scalp?), Im sure he feels justifiably smug knowing the Mills are representing on both coasts!
I know its painful to discuss for my local band-wagoners (Oh. Snap.), but this past Superbowl was one of the most gloriously amazing spectacles of hubris I was ever privileged, nay forced, to witness. I could honestly care less about football, but none of you would SHUT UP ABOUT IT, thus you left me no choice but to literally do the running man ON PEOPLE'S FACES in the living room of a party packed with emotional Patriot's fans. (Thats not actually a joke - those of you who were there will recollect that I indeed did a dance from 1989 from room to room.)
Similar to what various East/West rivalries have long stood for: Working class grit vs. Hollywood glitz, Old tradition vs. Air-conditioned luxury, White vs. Black, or in my own personal experience, Heels vs. Flats, I wont pretend that there isnt a little personal investment at stake here. Unlike any other event, situation, or happening in my life, this move has made me question everything I thought I knew about who I was, and who I am. The people, the weather, the expectation, the assumption, the subtle and still very blatant differences have all made a valiant effort in doing what various forces, and people, have tried to accomplish for years -to break me down.
On June 5th, I will be rocking my own yellow and purple, with some amazing heels that have been cooped up in the closet way too long, and LA and I will commence this battle that began twenty-one years ago.
Or 29.
On that note:
Bring it Celtics.
2 comments:
I wish we could watch it together! I think I jumped up and down for 30 minutes after the Giants won the Superbowl. I just loathe the Patriots and their stuck up quarterback.
GO LAKERS!!
Oh, and there is nothing surprising about you doing the running man from room to room. I would expect nothing more and nothing less from you during an episode of gloating.
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