DRONE CONTROL

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…

NBA PLAYOFFS: Kobe Bryant

"I'm not fading back into the shadows," L.A. Lakers’ guard Kobe Bryant said to the post-game media after falling to the Oklahoma City Thunder in the Western Semi-Finals. No smile. No hesitation. Stone faced, dead-eyed. A loss for Bryant is never the end; it’s only the next step to winning.

I am forever a die-hard, by-the-gravestone Phoenix Suns fan. Therefore, a large chunk of my competitive hatred is saved for the Lakers and always will be. It warms my belly to watch them stutter and fail in those big Hollywood lights. The Suns and Lakers have historically been a playoff match-up almost as much as the storied Celtics/Lakers or Celtics/76ers rivalries. Bryant publicly decried his personal vendetta against Phoenix for reasons he couldn’t explain. The Lakers are pure enemies in Phoenix, falling in stature behind only the San Antonio Spurs (of course). You don’t talk to the guy strolling in purple and gold wearing number 24 because you’d have nothing nice to say to him.

I cannot, however, for the pure devotion to basketball, disrespect Bryant's will. There is no other player like him in today's high-fiving, re-tweeting circus, who plays every minute only to win, and who will do whatever it takes (see: German blood exchange; playing with broken finger; dealing with Metta World Peace) to win. Only Kevin Garnett matches (and rises above) him in intensity, but Garnett's a different animal entirely. Bryant is a true basketball player who lives life without distraction and remains focused on the goal. He’s not opening his thoughts to the public and making decisions on the fly so the press can have their field day. He’s stealth. He works hard and gets results and those five rings stand unquestioned. This league rarely puts out a player with that strong insane sense of determination that can put a shiver in your spine. The locker room must’ve been a cold, hard place after that game. They lost to a young team exploding with confidence and diligence, but the Lakers will still linger next year and, so long as Bryant’s still around, they’ll continue to be a viable threat. Ahem. But, next year, that Chump gon' be blinded by purple and orange in the playoffs.