Grappling with the Loss of Mother Nash
There were fireworks—yeah—they
were going off.
“Lakers.” was all a text read
sent from a friend in Arizona. In my absinthian July Fourth haze a few
squabbles of information loosely gelled together. Free Agency had begun in the NBA and Steve Nash was at the top of everyone's wish list. A final tug of realization stitched
them together as my computer turned on and flashed Espn.com showing Nash
with purple and gold behind his grinning mug. Never in my young life have I
felt such shock—a shock that diminished reality and turned everything
one-dimensional. Nothing about the moment was real and it still haunts me when
I see “Nash” and “L.A.” in the same piece. But writing is healing, God let it
be so, writing is healing.
The two-time MVP put it
succinctly: "Everybody knows there's no loyalty in sports." And if
anybody in all of sports were to finally burn a period into the end of that
sentence, it would be Mr. Loyalty himself after signing with one of Phoenix's longtime
rivals. You're right, Mr. Nash, there really is no loyalty in sports, but as I
watched Lebron James leave his hometown for Miami, then Carmelo Anthony demand a
trade from Denver, then Deron Williams demand a trade from Utah, this year it’s
Dwight Howard’s turn, I held out hope that MVSteve wouldn’t be the next domino
to fall. Ray Allen skipped to Miami farting green the whole way, then Nash took
the 10 West through scorched earth to his new residence. Oh, but it did happen.
The air has left the lungs of amity leaving them deflated like two-week old
party balloons. Yeah, nothing is cherished and who cares.
Get
over it. I know.
I’m trying. Undoubtedly, Nash will be a perfect fit in Los Angeles. He’ll never
have to dribble over the three-point line if he doesn’t want to. Between Kobe,
Pau, and Bynum he’ll have plenty of exit passes to take. They’ve easily wiggled
into the top three of the West. It’s troubling, though, that I won’t be rooting
for him, for to do that is to root for the enemy. Sorry, brother, but you’re
not wearing my colors. Only in retrospect, maybe ten years after, will it be
sensible to celebrate World Champion Steve Nash, because hoping for positive
things in Lakerland just is not in the DNA of any Suns fan.
The post-Nash era in Phoenix has
already had a few burps and snaps. Eric Gordon, for a moment, made everything
feel okay. A decent consolation prize, but the New Orleans Hornets matched the
Suns’ offer. We lassoed Goran Dragic back from Houston, stringing his teammate,
Luis Scola, along in an amnesty victory and added Michael Beasley from
Minnesota. A decent core is developing and Sarver’s got some money packed
tightly into his back pocket. Let’s see what roster Phoenix ends up with and
hope nobody comes in wearing number 13. We had Nash for eight straight years.
By the rules of heartbreak, that means it’s going to take four years to get
over this. To be continued…
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