The Chris Moeller Archives

Courtside Observations - by Aaron Moeller

The CM Blog was once again on the road this week, this time sending a representative to Minneapolis to take in an NBA game between the hometown Timberwolves and the Philadelphia 76ers. Once again, the blog correspondent (myself, incidently) was forced to purchase his own ticket and then submit a reimbursement request to the Blogmaster. I'll be awaiting the mailed check, Chris. Hopefully you got my change of address card.

I've been a Philadelphia 76ers fan since forever and usually attend one of their games annually when they travel to either Chicago or Minnesota, but the Great North offers a special incentive - dirt cheap tickets. If you're content to sit in the nosebleeds, a ticket to a T-Wolves game is cheaper than a trip to a Cedar Rapids Kernels game, so for a couple years I've been planning on splurging on a ticket and having a fantastic vantage point for once. No activity better benefits from a close-viewing proximity than the National Basketball Association, and when team legend Allen Iverson returned to the team last month after a 3 year hiatus, that sealed the deal that this was to be the year. I went online and bought a 2nd row courtside seat, sitting right on the center court line. The row ahead of me had to deal with (occasionally tall) people continually walking past, so I contend there was no better seat in the arena than the one I was sitting in. Here are some random thoughts from my NBA close encounter.

* The person sitting next to me was from Ames, which I didn't realize until we both simultaneously recognized former Cyclone and T-Wolf, Fred Hoiberg, sitting three rows behind us during pre-game warmups. I'm normally not aggressive when spotting celebrities and try to be respectful of one's privacy, but come on, he's from Ames. So I told Fred I was from Iowa and my brother went to ISU and he was happy to smile for a photograph.

* Prince is always the one celebrity you hope to see at any major "Event" in the Twin Cities (or at least courtside at a small-e "event" between two teams with sub-.400 winning percentages on MLK Jr. Day when the NBA has their only slate of afternoon games during the year), but he was nowhere to be found. This despite cameras spotting him the day before at the Vikings playoff game. So I knew he was in town... and he's usually easy to spot - he's really short and he and Hugh Hefner are the only people who wear their pajamas in public.

* Despite his unattendance, Prince's music is ubiquitous over the Target Center PA. There was also a lot of Alicia Keys music (and a large image of her by one of the ladies' rooms for no explicable reason), some John Legend, some Stones, and "Lovely Day" by Bill Withers, as it was very much a CM Blog-approved soundtrack.

* Jim from Ames asked Hoiberg for his autograph, and even though Hoiberg went to Iowa State, I've now seen the evidence that he can spell his own name.

* Scanning the game program, I noticed that having been born in June of 1975, Allen Iverson was the oldest player on either team. Having been born in April of that same year, I realized it was likely the first time I have ever attended a professional sporting event in which there wasn't a single player older than me. Next stop, the grave.

* The T-Wolves coaching staff is a literal who's who of players from my NBA childhood. The head coach is Kurt Rambis, who - obviously, I suppose - no longer sports the famous eyewear he wore as a player on those great '80's Lakers teams. And why did he wear those traditional glasses anyway, when Kareem and Worthy had such modern (and more aerodynamic) goggles available to them? Rambis also writes left-handed on his clipboard, though I don't remember him shooting left-handed. Weird.

* Long-time NBAer Reggie Theus is another assistant. He's still a handsome devil and had the sleekest suit of any of the coaches. I miss his jheri curl though.

* Bill Laimbeer is easily recognizable among the coaches as well. Famous as one of the "Bad Boys" on a couple of Detroit championship teams in the late '80's, Bill doesn't even bother to wear a tie, sporting a turtleneck instead. He seems like a pretty cool dude, joking with fans and easily flashing a devilish smile. I was also able to fulfill a lifelong dream at halftime, when I went up to the roped-off section of the tunnel that leads to the home team locker room, waited for Laimbeer to reappear, and then punched him in the face.

* Jim Lynam was an assistant coach for the 76ers in 1983 when they won the NBA championship (the opening tip-off of my Sixer fandom) and remains one to this day. I pointed this out to some of my neighbors at the game who feigned interest in the factoid.

* Eddie Jordan is the 76ers head coach, and a shitty one. He needs to go.

* The main floor announcer and scoreboard personality - for most teams and in most sports - is usually a local news anchor or game show host-wannabe, but the T-Wolves use Wally Szczerbiak, a former player. He's a total pretty boy and was outrageously flirtatious with his female counterpart, who had one button on her blouse undone, revealing a black bra, unbuttened a second while they were giggling before the game, and was fingering and threatening to undo a third. These are the things you don't see in the nosebleed seats.

* Iverson was the oldest player, but Brian Cardinal, a balding white dude for the T-Wolves, looks the oldest, and I felt 10 years younger when he was on the court.

* The Sixers dominated the first half. They were clearly the better team. They had better athletes, both quicker and bigger, were forcing lots of bad shots and generally making the T-Wolves look like the bunch of first and second year players that they are. Most of the Sixer starters spent the entire 2nd quarter on the bench as they worked up a 20 point lead. The crowd was silent and uninspired (not to mention sparse) and it was cool to be able to hear the players calling out plays and numbers. When players would occasionally swear, it was clearly audible across the silent arena, and I wondered if even the television audience could pick it up.

* Iverson swears the most. He swears even when his shots go in.

* 76er center Samuel Dalembert has become incredibly visible the last week as he is the lone NBA player who was born and raised in Haiti and is now the face of the NBACares earthquake relief effort. This afternoon, upon returning to Iowa, I saw that he boarded a flight after the game in rout to the island. He's also been playing inspired ball and had three blocked shots in the first 5 minutes of the game and he altered a handful of others.

* The Timberwolves, in addition to being near the basement of the Western Conference, are also last in the league when it comes to player tattoos. The Sixers have it all over the T-Wolves in tats. Andre Iguadala, Lou Williams, and Mareese Speights all have significant artwork up and down their arms and/or legs, and of course, Allen Iverson, has long been the poster-boy for the modern-day tattooed athlete. The guy has had magazine articles and photo spreads dedicated to the images. It was cool to be sitting close enough to see all the infamous chinese letterings, the spider-web thing on his neck, the "Only the Strong Survive" on one shoulder, the "Hold my Own" on the opposite one, the "Cru Thik" shout-out to his hometown boys, "The Answer" bulldog, the "East End" on his leg, etc.

* Sixer point guard Lou Williams has the coolest shoes. All the Sixers have red in their shoes, but he has a touch of Sixer blue and white also and what appears to be a '6er logo on them. Believe me when I tell you that Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda used to go crazy over shoes that aren't even close to being as sweet as these.

* I thought they retired the thing during timeouts where the mascot jumps off the trampoline and does reverse dunks. They haven't.

* The Sixers starters returned completely flat in the 3rd quarter and embarrassingly squandered their lead in less than ten minutes. Eddie Jordan can never quite find the right rotation of players, usually riding the hot-hand too long, and leaving guys on the bench too long... but I promised Chris I'd keep my NBA talk to generalities and remember that his readers aren't terribly interested in the current state of affairs for the Sixers.

* One thing I was looking forward to at the game (since my seats were so close) was a kick-ass Andre Iguadala break-away dunk, but it never happened. There may be no higher-flyer in the Association these days, but alas, nothing. But even though he didn't get much of an opportunity to show off, it must be said that in person he is an incredible athletic specimen. He is super-ripped, can jump out of the gym, and visibly stands out even among a group of two dozen ridiculously athletic, fellow professional hoopsters.

* Of course, I was mostly looking forward to seeing Allen Iverson, the greatest small player in the history of the NBA. Years from now, when I remember this single game, I'll recall there was one Hall of Famer on the court that day. The guy you always hear you have to see in person to truly appreciate his speed, his quickness, and especially, his intensity. It's true though that he's on his last legs. A couple times during the game he got the ball on the wing, in transition, and where I'm generally accustomed to seeing him dart past two defenders, fly into the lane toward the hoop, and somehow sneak a shot just past the fingertips of a player a foot taller than him, the defense now collapsed on him, and he had to give up the ball or missed an off-balance, rushed shot.

* The Sixers lost in overtime. It remains to be seen what role Iverson will play now that he's postponed his retirement to return to the team he played ten years for, but when Iguadala missed a buzzer beater in regulation that would have won the game, Iverson wasn't even on the court. He spent the final minute and all of the overtime period on the bench. A huge disappointment. In years past, the game's final shot was always the same call - clear out and let Allen play one-on-one with his defender. I'd have thought Iverson should at least be on the court as a decoy drawing a defender. Instead the whole arena knew a double-teamed Iguadala would get his number called and it didn't drop. The view was grand but a big L was the capper on my northern excursion.

posted by Anonymous @ 9:32 PM