There is a certain type of quiet that only exists in February. It is the kind of silence you find in a sports memorabilia shop when the heater is clicking but not actually producing warmth. We are currently in the middle of a stretch of off days, and frankly, I am not sure what to do with my hands.
The Raptors do not play until February 19th against the Bulls. That feels like a long time from now, even if it is technically tomorrow. My uncle once told me that the Bulls were named after the meatpacking industry, but I always thought it was because they just liked to run into things.
The Ranking of Things
People are spending these empty hours looking at ranks and lists. Someone recently shared a ranking of something (the context was a bit blurry) and asked for thoughts. I think rankings are mostly just a way to feel like we have control over a chaotic universe.
If you rank a player tenth, he stays there in your mind even if he misses four layups in a row. It is comforting to think that grass is green and Scottie Barnes is a foundational piece. These are the few truths we have left.
The Ja'Kobe Walter Situation
There is a growing conversation about Ja'Kobe Walter and why the team needs to stop winging it. I have always liked the name Ja'Kobe because it sounds like two great players combined into one efficient teenager. The experts say we must prioritize him, which usually means letting a young man make mistakes in front of 19,000 people.
I remember when we used to do this with players like Joey Graham. You watch them and you think, maybe this is the one. Then time passes and you realize they just had a very nice vertical leap and a confusing haircut. I hope Walter is different, but I have also seen the Raptors play in February before.
Lottery Dreams and Auditions
There is a proposal floating around to let draft prospects pick their own teams. It would turn the lottery into an audition where the players hold the power. This sounds like the kind of idea someone comes up with after staring at a lava lamp for too long.
Imagine a world where a nineteen year old chooses to live in Toronto because he likes the public transit or the specific way the light hits the Gardiner Expressway. It is a bold concept. Usually, we just force them to come here and hope they do not mind the cold.
We go to Chicago tomorrow. Most of the time, the Bulls are just a team that exists to remind us that the nineties actually happened. I will be watching, mostly because there is nothing else on and I have already counted all the signed Jorge Garbajosa photos in the display case.