USA 101, China 70
Few things get me up early on Sunday mornings. I can sleep in, catch up on the rest I’ve missed during the week. Only something important could get me out of bed before ten or eleven. Live coverage of Team USA’s first game at the Olympics is one of those things.
My clock radio sounded at 6:45 a.m., the time I normally wake for work. I had stayed up late watching the Argentina-Lithuania game on the special, NBC Olympic basketball channel that miraculously appeared a few days ago on our HD lineup. It was close to 3 a.m. when I hit the sack, so I was understandably groggy and unwilling when KKJZ woke me. Coverage didn’t start for another half hour, so I listened to the mellow jazz with my eyes closed and dozed for a bit longer. I even tried convincing myself to keep sleeping, to trust the game would go well. Plus, I could watch the replay at ten, anyway. No. I was going to watch it live no matter what.
I called my dad at halftime to let him know the score, thinking he wasn’t able to watch live. But to my surprise it was on in Iowa. The west coast gets everything last. We talked again after the game. The US team looked good, we agreed. I thought the Chinese were going to keep it close with their outside shooting but they were cold and unproductive until a late hot streak when the game was out of reach.
Normally I feign from nationalistic pride, but with basketball it’s a different story. Basketball is my sport — the holiest of holies, even more so than football — so I take a very personal interest in American basketball history and tradition, and in Team USA. I imagine it’s the same feeling a lot of people have when their national team is playing in the World Cup. Though it’s only a game, it feels as if something’s at stake; like your manhood and worth is on the line. It’s fucked up. I don’t like it but at the same time I can’t help it. I become very passionate and invested. My heart starts racing and I can’t sit. I have to stand and pace, jump up and touch the ceiling. It happens whenever a favorite team of mine plays, but the emotions are intensified during basketball tournaments, especially the Olympics.
The next two weeks is going to be nerve-racking and restless.
My clock radio sounded at 6:45 a.m., the time I normally wake for work. I had stayed up late watching the Argentina-Lithuania game on the special, NBC Olympic basketball channel that miraculously appeared a few days ago on our HD lineup. It was close to 3 a.m. when I hit the sack, so I was understandably groggy and unwilling when KKJZ woke me. Coverage didn’t start for another half hour, so I listened to the mellow jazz with my eyes closed and dozed for a bit longer. I even tried convincing myself to keep sleeping, to trust the game would go well. Plus, I could watch the replay at ten, anyway. No. I was going to watch it live no matter what.
I called my dad at halftime to let him know the score, thinking he wasn’t able to watch live. But to my surprise it was on in Iowa. The west coast gets everything last. We talked again after the game. The US team looked good, we agreed. I thought the Chinese were going to keep it close with their outside shooting but they were cold and unproductive until a late hot streak when the game was out of reach.
Normally I feign from nationalistic pride, but with basketball it’s a different story. Basketball is my sport — the holiest of holies, even more so than football — so I take a very personal interest in American basketball history and tradition, and in Team USA. I imagine it’s the same feeling a lot of people have when their national team is playing in the World Cup. Though it’s only a game, it feels as if something’s at stake; like your manhood and worth is on the line. It’s fucked up. I don’t like it but at the same time I can’t help it. I become very passionate and invested. My heart starts racing and I can’t sit. I have to stand and pace, jump up and touch the ceiling. It happens whenever a favorite team of mine plays, but the emotions are intensified during basketball tournaments, especially the Olympics.
The next two weeks is going to be nerve-racking and restless.
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