29toLIFE

I never really wanted to like the Heat. It was never something I planned on doing. For the better part of fifteen years, I’ve been as strong a Heat detractor as one could be, without actually being Bill Simmons v2.011. Clarence Weatherspoon, Allan Houston, Shawn Marion; these are all names that have brought me great joy througout my basketball-loving life, yet, somehow, I find myself sitting in front of the computer, writing the following sentence:

I <3 the Miami Heat.

Not the organization or their history, of course. After all, it’s hard to truly love Pat Riley’s sliminess or Alonzo Mourning’s legacy if you’re not already a long-time Heat fan. Nobody’s asking you to love those guys. But this particular team, a team consisting of three guys who are really good and nine who look like they’d never even seen a basketball before March. How do you not love them?

The Miami Heat isn’t just Dwyane Wade and LeBron James lobbing full-court alley-oops. It isn’t Chris Bosh awkwardly yelling at the sky. It’s the Mike Bibby SunPass lane on defense. It’s Mario Chalmers randomly fouling someone for no reason and then passing to the wrong team on the very next possession. It’s Mike Miller missing a three. And then missing another. And another. And another. It’s Joel Anthony’s hands being surgically removed and replaced with cast-iron skillets. It’s Juwan Howard still – quite inexplicably – collecting an NBA paycheck. It’s Jamerickas Dampgauskgloire. It’s the cast of your favorite TV sitcom wearing basketball shoes. It’s a fun story with entertaining characters. It’s their success despite their comical ineptitude. What’s not to like?

I admit that it’s strange, because this team is last year’s Cavaliers. Not as far as superstars go, obviously, but at least in regards to the supporting cast. They’re just as dysfunctional as Cleveland was and I didn’t particularly like that team at all. The thing is, though, LeBron James was stuck with that group. They were his burden. This team? These merry misfits? The Big Three chose them. This Heat team feels a lot less like a guy forced to babysit his little brother’s slumber party and a lot more like three buddies who decided to spend their weekend chaperoning a group at the Special Olympics.

Who knows? Maybe in the near future, it’ll be different. Maybe next year, UD becomes a little too Kevin Garnett for my liking. Maybe lovable losers like Bibby and Chalmers turn into players who aren’t as easy to root for. Maybe these feelings I have are nothing more than the civic pride that comes from being born and raised in a city that now finds itself under attack from the rest of the sports-loving country. Hell, it’s possible that I’ll never feel this way again about this team, that I’ll go back to praying for missed jumpers and blown out knees once the season ends. All I know is that, on my way into work this morning, I thought about last night’s win. I thought about LeBron being all clutchy and stuff, even though a month ago, he was, like, the unclutchiest guy in the NBA or something. I thought about Dwyane Wade seeing Derrick Rose’s poster and raising him a YouTube clip. I thought about how much I’ve hated the Heat, how much I’ve truly despised this organization over the years. And I couldn’t help but smile.

So, let me write this again before the Knicks fan in me comes to his senses and hits the delete button on this entire post. Let me write this again while I still feel it, even though I’m not entirely sure why I feel it.

I <3 the Miami Heat.