Basketball jones
a SUIT column by Chris Jungle

I can still remember when my brothers put on Cheech and Chong's Greatest Hit when I was ten years old (everything happened when I was ten). There were lots of funny jokes. Some I got at the time, and others I wouldn't understand for years. But there was that song. That crazy funny song any fool could sing the chorus of at the top of their lungs and get all of the words right. That song was "Basketball Jones."

Now, several years later, I'm singing it again. "Basketball jones, I got a basketball jones, I got a basketball jones, so baby ooo-OOO-ooo." Due to my lack of full time employment, piss poor writing creativity this week, and a generally addictive personality, I've been watching college basketball with the strength of fifty men. Yes, I'm addicted, but don't worry, they will take away my candy soon enough.

Many of my friends and acquaintances have scoffed at my sports addiction as a petty juvenile fantasy gone out of control, but this is not the case. I know I can't play ball very well. I was always more of a rebounder than a scorer and never got much playing time when I was on the team. I'm watching for a totally different reason--I want to be told a good story.

Some people like sit-coms, hospital dramas, day time talk shows, and bloopers, bloopers, bloopers, but I enjoy the good ebb and flow of a basketball game. There are so many exciting terms like "box in one," "fast break," "shooting the one and one," "points in the paint," and the old fashioned "three point play." There's "deep benches," "zone busters," "tomahawk jams," and "buzzer beaters." Teams can get off to a fast start, go into a slump, turn it up a notch, and answer the challenge. Of course, they can also get into early foul trouble and have to play catch up from the get go.

What does all of this mean? It means I'm having a ball with my affliction. Sometimes I mix and match my basketball viewing with other drugs like caffeine and alcohol, but without the pressure packed crunch time in the final two minutes, a Mountain Dew high is without reason or pleasure. It's great to see the running of the young, and their coaches directing these herds of gazelles to put the ball through a cylinder perched high above the ground. Genius! Amazing! I wish I had thought of it.

There is a poetry to the game no poet can eloquently express in words. It is a poetry of movement, style, grace, strength, courage, and luck. The hip, smarmy types always complain about basketball because many of the beasts who play the game have the intelligence, morals, and speaking skills of gorillas. Personally, this endears me more to the game. There's a beautiful irony in the fact that the massive hulks who would otherwise bother and scare the rest of society can make people happy by playing a game well.

And it is a game. Heck, life's a game, but the rules are not as clearly defined as basketball. And for the next few weeks, basketball will be the game and drug of choice. Millions will bet on and watch it. Fans will experience dizzying highs and hollow, empty come downs. Prayers will be made, predictions thrown about, office pools written up, shoes sold, underdogs winning, stats displayed, awards given, names made, and careers ended. And I'll be there waiting, wanting, willingly giving up my free time to see what goes on inside stadiums far away, pretending to be right along side the action, and loving the fact that some drugs in this world are not illegal.

So there, I'll sing it again. "Basketball jones, I've got a basketball jones, I've got a basketball jones, so baby ooo-OOO-ooo." I've got my hometown teams to root for: both the men's and women's teams from the University of New Mexico made their respective NCAA tournaments. And if they lose, I'll pick another team to root for, and if that team loses, I'll pick another, then another until all the teams have stopped playing, and all that's left is the resin stuck to my brain.

Chris Jungle has come to the conclusion that the only miracles he will witness in life are when his favorite sports teams win a championship.

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