Who's Got My Miracle?

Monday's visit from the Hawks is pretty much exhibit A of what I will miss next year when the Nets leave New Jersey for Blue Ivy's billion-dollar nursery. I'm not talking about five-point losses that are much less contested than the final score indicates (though the team will hopefully improve next season). I'm also not referring to coach Avery Johnson's infuriating rotations. (It's borderline indefensible to play only eight guys in a drubbing when two guys who played zero minutes—Sundiata Gaines and DeShawn Stevenson—bring exactly the type of defensive Four Loko that last night's party desperately needed.)

I am instead talking about the ridiculous ease with which one can attend an NBA game in New Jersey right now.



I got to my father's house at 5:00 pm yesterday, where he promptly asked me if I wanted to go to the game.

"Yeah. My only hesitation is having to sit through a blow-out."

He said we didn't have to stay until the end. I had to grab the doorway to steady myself. Since I can remember, my father has tried to impart three pieces of advice to me. Three lessons to live by that, if heeded, would allow me to lead a life of an upstanding man in the 21st century. I could ignore anything else he ever tried to teach me, and as long as I followed these three maxims he'd be proud of me and satisfied with his guidance.

1) Have a strong work ethic.

2) Always treat women with respect.

3) Never leave a sporting event early.

He clearly meant business with his invitation. We hit up StubHub for tickets. Available tickets stared back at me like eager puppies at the pound. We could be downstairs, nine rows up for $20 a ticket. Or 22 rows back for $12. These are tickets begging to be bought and converted to clean energy. But we waited too long and StubHub shut down the marketplace an hour before tip-off. No worries.

We got in the car at 7:00, rolled up to the Prudential Center at 7:30 and met my girlfriend by 7:31. I engaged a man scalping tickets at 7:32, and at 7:32:05 a kid interrupted and offered me two free tickets. To be clear, this is not the first time I've been given free Nets tickets outside the arena. Clearly, it's easier to sell your hopeless Nets fan friend/family member an excuse for why you can't make the game than it is for him to sell those tickets. Suckers.

We still needed another ticket, and the scalper was more than happy to unload two tickets (face value $40 each) for $30 total. It left us with an extra, but it was 7:33 and I didn't want to miss any more of the game. Our tickets were in three different locations, but since no one goes to Nets games, we were able to sit together and stretch out.

We stayed for the whole game.

Am I excited for the Brooklyn move? The depth of my feelings on this topic would give most people the bends, but overall, yes. It'll be a joy to watch my favorite team with 18,102 other excitable fans. I'm thrilled that being a Nets fan might not be such a lonely experience after this season.

But I'll miss being able to decide that I want to go to an NBA game in my home state, then being in a seat one hour and a few dollars later.