THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, June 19, 1995 TAG: 9506190124
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Bob Molinaro
LENGTH: Medium: 69 lines
I miss it already.
Basketball, that is.
I guess eight consecutive months of the right stuff aren't enough.
It doesn't matter that one part of me can't fathom why the NBA playoffs should drag on into mid-June. Now that big-time basketball is in recess, I suddenly find myself wishing there was more.
I get the same feeling the morning after every Final Four. Five weeks of NCAA postseason hoops are played out against a backdrop of cynicism and hard deadlines. But then, to the final hurrahs of the title game, my attitude changes.
As college basketball goes out the door for another year, it begins to look more attractive. I wish it wouldn't leave.
The NBA playoffs fill some of the void. The rhythms of the pros are different. But this year, especially, the aesthetics were comforting.
It makes me smile when I hear some of the reasons people give for basketball's popularity, and for why the playgrounds are packed with kids shooting hoops, while the sandlots sprout weeds.
The dimensions of the basketball court are a good fit for the TV screen, they say.
The NBA does a better job than other sports of promoting its athletes.
Kids develop sole-ful relationships with players by wearing the sneakers they endorse.
There is something to all these observations. But has anyone stopped to consider that basketball's primary appeal may spring from the simple fact that it is the best game for our times?
Basketball doesn't have everything. It doesn't offer baseball's reverence for statistics, or football's violence. But whereas most football players are faceless, interchangeable cogs in a machine, basketball players get to express themselves in ways that make other athletes envious of their freedom.
Basketball is a superb stage from which to perform. Players get to showcase their individual skills and personalities within the context of a small ensemble.
In a single game, a player of Hakeem Olajuwon's talent has the time and opportunity to display his entire repertoire of moves and shots and defensive skills. He is involved in almost every play at either end of the court.
Now look at baseball: In your average game, Barry Bonds comes to the plate four times. He might be walked twice. He might not get a hit. In leftfield, he might catch two routine fly balls. A fan can leave the game with very little feeling for what makes Bonds a great player.
Consider Greg Maddux, the game's best pitcher. He is one of baseball's marquee attractions. Too bad, then, that he's not even on the field most days.
Basketball is a superior team sport because it gives maximum exposure to its star attractions.
While critics detect a back-and-forth monotony to the games, this imperfection is never mentioned when a championship is at stake.
Truth is, no matter what the sport, most games tend to be routine. Basketball's redundancy, at least, is broken up by the artistic expression of the world's best athletes.
In any basketball season, it's easy to overdose on dunks and tire of treys. At some point, the natural reaction is to take the sport and its players for granted.
Until the time comes when the game goes on vacation.
Hurry back, basketball. by CNB