Miami Vise
by Karen Williams | June 09, 2006 - Seminole Chronicle
With utter delight, we watched the Miami Heat basketball team beat the Detroit Pistons for the Eastern Conference championship. My feller, Mark, and I had invested much time, energy and Pringle-eating watching the Heat reach this point for the first time in its franchise history.
Mark and I take NBA basketball seriously, especially during the play-off season. We plan our schedules around this reverential time with the television, and before each game we methodically organize our snacks and beverages so that, perish-the-thought, we won't need to leave the room before half time. (And yes, there's a Porta Potty involved, but I won't get into that.)
Heaven help the person who drops by for a visit while we're immersed in a game. Either they'll join us as frenzied fans or they'll find themselves bored and ignored.
They'll also be in for a shock, for I shed my meek and mild-mannered demeanor, becoming a screaming maniac bursting forth with woo-hoos, boos and other guttural sounds that shake windows and scare the neighbors.
But I can't help it. I was born and bred in Indiana where the state bird is Larry and love for basketball is right up there with God, country and hope for a Michael Jackson comeback. (He's an Indiana native.)
Mark can actually play basketball, performing lay-ups, three-pointers and fade-away jumpers with the best of them at the gym. And he comments on the fine-points of the games as we watch television, explaining three-second violations, pick-and-rolls and Shaq-attacks. He also knows the amazing difference between flagrant, technical and personal fouls.
I, on the other hand, am a big-picture kind of person who keeps track of whether the ball goes in the basket or not and if any of the team dancers are getting cellulite. (Please, dear God, let it happen!)
I'll admit I've changed team loyalties over the years, but that doesn't make me a bad person - merely a versatile one.
I was once a Chicago Bulls fan, for I liked Coach Phil Jackson's mellow, spiritual approach that I read about in a church magazine.
I became an Indiana Pacers fan out of loyalty to my homeland.
And now, in Florida, I love our local fellows, the Orlando Magic, and Mark and I will root for them in person this next season at the T.D. Waterhouse Centre.
But who couldn't warm to the Miami Heat? Their old coaching warhorse, Pat Riley, came out of retirement to lead his swansong team.
They have one of the greatest players of the game, Shaquille O'Neal, able to overpower almost anyone under the net, and able, on occasion, to hit a free throw.
And then there's Dwyane Wade, the lad with tons of talent and drive, who has become Shaq's little buddy and protege.
There's Alonzo Mourning, who's had a kidney transplant, and other stars from previous teams, such as Gary Payton and Antoine Walker, who are itching for a national championship ring.
The Miami Heat is now competing with Dallas Mavericks for a national NBA title.
And if I scream myself hoarse, well, that's what vocal cords were made for in the first place.
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Copyright 2006, Karen Williams
