20 to 21: A Birthday Countdown

Here's the thing. . . I am in no mood to blog. I just finished watching Game 1 of the SUNS/SPURS series from last night. That should be enough to get my point across. . .

But it got me thinking. I knew the outcome of the game. There was no way that I could avoid finding that one out (actually, there probably was - - but I couldn't do it to myself). Instead, I put myself through the misery of a double overtime game that I knew would end with my team on the losing end when all was said and done.

So what does that say?

It says I'm a fan (and maybe a little bit of a masochist. .). And that is how you can describe me and who I have become. If you have visited this site even once before, it is likely that you saw a post that discussed something about my beloved Phoenix Suns. I truly do live and die by the fate of my team. And it is that strong commitment to my team that leads me to the next step on the road to my 21st birthday. . .

20 to 21:

There are many stories that I could bring forth via my fandom, but the one that sticks out to me the most is the one that is providing me with hope as I struggle with the loss in Game One.

It was the 2006 NBA Playoffs. My SUNS were in the first round against the 7th seed Los Angeles Lakers as the 2nd seed and had just come off of losing the "home court advantage" (for those not in the know, these playoff series are a best-of-seven with the team with the better regular season record getting 4 games at home in a 2-2-1-1-1 fashion. . . follow?) by losing Game Two after a Game One victory. My best friend George (as big of a Laker fan as I am a Suns fan) and I decided we had to go to Game Three in Los Angeles as we were only an hour from the stadium and it's not every day that our favorite teams battled it out in the playoffs so close to home. So we found tickets on EBAY and made our way to the Staples Center on April 28 for what would be one memorable evening.

I was one of maybe a handful of SUNS fans in the entire stadium. Imagine 20,000 fans worshiping at the altar of the purple and gold, and there's me, just trying to make that gold a more orange color! I bravely draped myself in my Steve Nash jersey and George (donning his Kobe "The Rapist" Bryant jersey - - no, he will never live that one down from my standpoint) and I took the game in from the upper deck, but the front row of said nose-bleed section. It was an exciting game that ended in a Lakers victory, 99-92. Within the first minute of the game, an already feisty series got a bit more physical as a skirmish broke out. Later in the game, former Laker Kwame Brown knocked Suns player Boris Diaw down and decided it was best to stand over him in a taunting manner. This only added to the animosity that the two teams (and fans, apparently) had for each other.

Every now and again, I would feel something hit my back. I assumed popcorn, candy, or something like that, and as long as it wasn't gum, I was ok with it. However, once the game ended, I was introduced into a world of Suns-hating that I had never visited before, and looking back, quite possibly could have gotten ugly.

As George and I tried to exit the unsafely crowded stadium, people began squeezing ever closer together to get to the escalator down to the main level. When a couple people (it's a safe bet that these wonderful individuals were mildly intoxicated) noticed my jersey, a fun chant of "Phoenix Sucks" began to break out. Mind you, the series was now 2-1 in favor of the Lakers, giving them the inside track to winning the series and sending the Suns home for the summer. As the chant got louder, I felt closer shoving and more direct forms of abuse as more food items were thrown in my direction and I sensed that things might get out of hand.

I was not the only one. A security guard pushed his way towards me and asked me if I would like an escort out of the stadium. I declined, thanking him for his offer, as I assumed it would be just fine getting to my car. Boy, was I ever wrong (in retrospect, I wonder what would have happened if I had agreed - would George and I have been taken out a secret way? Or would I just have received a worse case of vocal abuse with a security guard on my hip?). . .

As I made my to the top of the escalator, George and I began to look around. This escalator is essentially the center of attention in the area of the stadium with people standing around on three levels awaiting their turn (waves of people would be allowed to go, and then a period of nothing, as to alleviate the amount of people leaving at the same time). Once again, my jersey stood out (some of you may be saying, "Justin, just take off the jersey!" No thanks. I don't give in that easily. I would be so embarrassed to this day if I had succumbed to the pressure.) and a new chant of "Phoenix Sucks" began to echo through the corridor surrounding the escalator. I was essentially standing on an escalator surrounded by hundreds of Laker fans, singling me out as the anti-everything they stood for. I was the only Suns fan within vocal range, and they made sure that I was aware who won the game. I cannot explain to you what that felt like. There very well could have been 500 people standing in that vicinity that night and every single one of them (Except for George - he kept saying "Shut up! He's my ride home!") was yelling at me because of the team I support. I was worried, but not really, as I assumed once I got outside, everything would be better. . . Not so much.

Unfortunately, we had exited the side of Staples Center exactly opposite of the side we entered, thus causing us to walk around the entire stadium and then down a couple blocks to reach our parking garage. As we exited the stadium, I was approached by a guy who was approximately 30 years old. This man had 2 small children in tow and was also clearly filled with magical liquids that made him act a little obnoxious. He came right up to me, got in my face, and said "It's over! It's over! Phoenix sucks!" Now, if you know me, you know that I am a smart ass. Up until then, I had kept my mouth shut, but I just could not take it anymore. I said to him "You've gotta win 4" as he walked away from me. . . Mistake. He stopped, spun, and immediately was in my face once more, saying loudly "What did you say, boy? I'll beat your ass!" Quickly, I responded with "Dude, you've got kids with you!" and walked away with George. . . Crisis One averted.

George and I were talking and laughing, trying to show that I had no desire to stir any trouble (Which was true) and it did work for the most part. One woman walking the opposite direction as me came right up to me and began lifting my jersey, saying "Take that shit off." I grabbed her arms, moved them away from me, and politely said "Get the hell off of me!" (No, that's not true. . . I did say something to the effect of "Ok. . ."). We made it to my car, but not before I witnessed another Suns fan walking the other direction who was being slapped around with those awful "Thunder Sticks" as he walked. George and I exchanged quick glances and booked it to my car as to avoid any actual assault and battery, which we both were pleased to find did not occur.

Now why does this story bring me hope? Well two days later on April 30, a dagger was inserted into my heart when Kobe Bryant hit a jumper as time expired to win Game Four in overtime, giving the Lakers a commanding 3-1 series lead. It was all but over. My "You've gotta win 4" statement was still true, but it was looking grim for our chances, as we had to win three games in a row after we had just LOST three in a row. I never gave up though, and neither did my beloved SUNS, as they came back to win Game Five and then the thrilling Game Six in Los Angeles thanks to Tim Thomas of all people. This of course gives me the opportunity to post this video so all my Lakers fans friends can enjoy it:



After that, we won in overtime and took that momentum and destroyed the Lakers in Game Seven in Phoenix and went on to later lose in the Western Conference Finals, but it was an amazing playoffs that displayed resiliency and perseverance in my team.

And that's what we now need, down 1-0 to the Spurs, which, in comparison, is nothing. All we need to do is win Tuesday night and home court is ours. . . so here's to that happening!!!

And now I retire to my bed for the evening. . . Hope you enjoyed the recap of one of the most memorable night of my life and I hope you return tomorrow night for the continued journey towards my big 2-1. . .

Thanks again and as always -

Until later,