There are so many teams, there are so many games. Every night there are agonies in this corner of the universe, exuberance in that part; intensity here, laxity there; light and dark. You can't play at the level expected and demanded every night. But as coaches and fans, you also never know when there is going to be a no-show. The game is unique, played at height; the athletes who play it in the NBA are the finest in any sport on third rock. Come the playoffs all the stars are out and dazzle us with their brilliant but monochromatic excellence and ferocious drive. But half the galaxies are gone. Half the teams half the coaches, half the players, most of the stars. Late spring is not my favorite time. The NBA is the most fascinating, unpredictable league in sport because of these months, when fall closes and winter holds fast. When the superhuman are human. When a purple beam in the sky catches our eye and we pay attention to Sacramento; when a buzz is in our ears and we trace it to Charlotte. It is now, when the universe is whole and brimming with possibility, when chaos is the order, that is my favorite time as a fan of the Association.
