“That brother needs help.”
A lot of people (hi Mom!) have been asking where I stand on the current situation in Dub Nation, which is, to put it succinctly: tire fire.
For those of you who are mercifully oblivious, my team currently stands at 10–14, and the truth is worse than that. Not only have they blown numerous 20-point leads this season, but their bellwether, their heart and soul, my wayward son Draymond Green is at the lowest ebb of his career. Just a few games after returning from a five-game suspension for going all Derek Chauvin on Minnesota’s Rudy Gobert, he whacked the Suns’ Josef Nurkic in the side of the head with a flailing arm and is now suspended indefinitely.
It’s bad. I’m always the first to defend Draymond, but I’m having a hard time doing it anymore. About all I can do is sigh and shake my head.
Having said that, here is my official position.
Everyone is selling their stock in Draymond and the Dubs right now. And with good reason; all the indicators are negative. Selling is the smart move. The hangdog look that Steph Curry, normally the most joyous of athletes, wore while fruitlessly trying to drag the W’s to victory against the Clippers the other night said it all.
That’s the rational position but… fuck it. I’m buying. Give me all your stock. The price is at an all-time low, so load me up. I believe that this is rock-bottom, that the tide will turn, and every other silly cliche that you can think of. What is there to lose? Is just giving up better somehow?
I believe because I choose to believe. That Dray will get whatever therapy or religion he needs to stop making an ass of himself. That Klay’s shot is back for real. That the kids are alright. That we will see Steph smile again. Not necessarily that we will win another title, which feels like too much to ask, but that there will be joy in the Nation once more.
That’s it. That’s the statement. Have a beautiful day.