There is a certain rhythm to the end of a basketball season that feels like waiting for a microwave to ding. You know it’s coming, you know what’s inside will be lukewarm, but you stand there anyway.
The Raptors beat the Pistons 119 to 108 recently. It was a professional basketball game that happened in a physical space. We won, which is objectively better than losing, though my uncle says winning now just ruins our lottery odds. He says that about everything, including when I find a five dollar bill in the laundry.
The Motor City Commute
Someone asked recently if people still take buses to Detroit to watch the Raptors play. It used to be a whole thing, specifically between 2015 and 2019. We would fill up a coach bus, drive across the border, and try to convince ourselves that Little Caesars Arena felt like home.
It was essentially a hostile takeover but with more polite cheering and people looking for a Harvey's on the way back. If we ever met Detroit in a playoff series, the 401 would basically just become a very long, very grey parking lot. I am not sure my nervous system could handle a playoff series against Detroit (mostly because of the border wait times).
Fan Day and The Scottie Barnes Problem
A nice person on the internet wants to know how to get Scottie Barnes to sign a baby onesie at Fan Day. This is a very wholesome goal. I hope the baby is not in the onesie at the time, because Sharpies have a very distinct smell and babies generally prefer milk.
Getting an autograph from a franchise player is like trying to catch a specific pigeon in a park. You have to be patient, you have to be in the right spot, and eventually, the security guard will tell you to move along. If you do get that signature, please frame it quickly. Ink fades, but the memory of standing in a line for three hours lasts forever (mainly in your lower back).
CJ Miles and Keeping the Faith
In news that feels like a pleasant dream from 2017, CJ Miles is apparently working with the social media team now. I remember the CJ's Pajamas era quite fondly. It was a simpler time when three pointers felt like a gift rather than a mathematical necessity.
It is good to see former players sticking around the building. It makes the arena feel less like an office and more like a very large living room where people happen to jump a lot. We have to keep fighting the good fight, whatever that means. Most days it just means remembering to hydrate and not checking the standings until April.
The season continues. The ball goes through the hoop or it doesn't. Scottie handles the rock, and we all just try to get through the work week without looking too closely at the luxury tax. It's a living.