The NBA: Where Crazy Happens

I have no idea how it happened but my mother loves the NBA. As in, watches every game even though our team is out of the playoffs. As in, somehow knows which players went to colleges in our state and roots for them even though the Blazers are kaput. As in, she sounds more concerned when the Lakers are beating the Rockets than she did when I told my whole family that I was "a really great dancer."

I think a lot about how if you asked me 18 months ago if I would jump in a pit filled with grizzly bears just to hang out with Brandon Roy, I would have said "well, no." Considering that I just bought the man's jersey, admittedly a Chinese knock off, I would say that represents a fair turn around. I mean, I've really become an National Basketball Associate fan. My mother, however, has gone from knowing so little about pro-sports that she probably has no idea who won the Superbowl this year, to this bizzaro May 2009 version where she knows why Brandon Roy deserves to be 2nd team all-NBA over Deron Williams. In any normal May, Mom would be trying to figure why all of the plants on the west wing of the house died (the dog always pees there). Now, she is trying to figure out why Chauncy Billups statistics are so much better in the playoffs.

There are two possible reasons why my mom loves the NBA more than rerun episodes of Bones on TBS. Number one: she wants to have something in common with her 23 year old son. I used to think this was the case but after feverishly getting 2 hours of sleep the night before the Blazers first playoff appearance in 6 years (which left me crying in the shower for a couple days, incidentally), my fervor has cooled off. I love the NBA- I watch every game I can. But I realized that I can't think about it 24/7 or I don't get any sleep. So I don't talk about it quite as much. If my mom really was just mirroring my interest, she would have been happy to move on after 8 months of me gushing about Nicholas Batum.

The only other option, really, is that she genuinely likes the NBA. My dad told me he has a hard time getting into the NBA now because "its all these giant black guys." He used to be a huge fan (admittedly, he's becoming one again- but that is definitely because of me). So my mom, who doesn't even really like music by the way, just discovered how much fun a good NBA game is. All in all, this is a good thing. But I certainly didn't expect it.