I won't be there. Try as I might, I was not granted access to this opening ceremony of sorts, not as a journalist, (Yes, thank you Nike, I'm aware that blogging does not count as news) nor as a lucky fan. I followed @nikebasketball and @usabasketball all week, desperately following them around the city as they gave away tickets. My hopes of getting into Radio City died hard last night, culminating in a public breakdown as I ran laps around Madison Square Garden screaming to the basketball phantasms, "GOOD GOD, WHERE ARE YOU PEOPLE??!!" I also, rather embarrassingly, tweeted these things.
So I will not have an inside scoop on what went down in the hallowed halls of New York's most famous music hall. I won't know what Jay smelled like. Instead, I am in downtown Manhattan, about to watch this event from my laptop. You can call me the anti-Trey Kirby.**
This is the World Basketball Festival, people. Yes I'm aware that is something that before this weekend has never been seen before, and therefore before this weekend didn't mean anything. An event like this couldn't possibly be worth it's weight in hoopla.
But there's something about this weekend, about the fanfare, about a celebration of our favorite sport, that carries such an intoxicating dose of coolness. There is a hope for a future where basketball is popular and celebrated worldwide. Though I may be posting this in a downtown Starbucks right now, far, far from the flame, I cannot help but be excited to be a part this world.
** I am not by any means, anti-Trey Kirby. If anything I am extremely pro-Trey Kirby, but I must admit to be insanely jealous of a dude that gets to ride the inside track of an event that advertises itself as the epitome of cool.
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