I can't tell you exactly why it was that the NBA approached, passed, and then blew the doors off the NHL in my interest. I will say that it's unfortunate that it didn't happen ten years earlier, so I could've seen the NBA in its prime, instead of picking up on the Association just as the Rockets and Knicks were teaching us how to bumble through a final series. (The young Nets and Spurs must've been taking notes.) But the transformation is all the more startling due to the fact that my NBA affinity has grown even as the product itself has fallen off.

I think in part this is a reaction against my hometown. (Warning: self- and city-wide- pop psychology to follow.) In Pittsburgh it is practically an act of civil disobedience to follow the NBA, especially as a white guy. The Association is not even a blip on the city's radar screen--so much so that I was surprised to see the result of last night's finale on the news this morning, though I was not surprised not to get any highlights. It is no coincidence that the NBA is the only major sport not represented in the city. (To my mind, major sports in America are: MLB, NFL, NBA, college football, college men's basketball, and begrudgingly the NHL.) The question in my mind, though, is whether lack of interest causes lack of team, or vice versa.

My assumption is that lack of team causes lack of interest, which leads me to my almost-sacriligeous point and conclusion: Pittsburgh is a bad sports town. Now, I can already feel the glare of the Steeler Nation and the people who still have 1979 City of Champions memorabilia, but I will elaborate. Pittsburgh is a great Pittsburgh sports town. Though my alma mater has been much-maligned for the move, it definitely had its finger on the pulse of the city when it asked for its teams to be referred to as "Pittsburgh" instead of "Pitt". If there's a Pittsburgh team involved in the highest level of competition, people will get behind it here like nobody's business.

BUT, this is not, in my mind, a good sports town otherwise. There can be a great game on, but if it doesn't involve a local team it's just not going to do well here. As someone who can watch anyone, anywhere play football for big stakes or no stakes, this has always bugged me. And the second part of the equation is the part about "highest level". Pittsburgh had a very entertaining CBA team in 1994-95, but it didn't even register on the radar screen. I don't think this is because Pittsburgh can't be a basketball town; the crowds at the Petersen Center this season attests to the fact that it can. It's just that Pittsburghers can't stand the thought of this being a minor-league town (even to the extent that it's true). We can farm hockey players out to Cleveland, but we'd never stand for that relationship working the other way.

So I think perhaps that part of why I enjoy the NBA so much is that it allows me to distance myself from what I see as very parochial, limited fans.

It's certainly not because of the halftime entertainment. Good Lord and butter did that suck during the finals. Two games stand out. Game 3 featured Jewel apparently repackaged as a Spearsesque teen idol instead of an alterna/hippy chick with a guitar. This was especially apparent when she performed one of her old songs, which seemed 100% out of place with the new persona.

But that wasn't nearly as brutal as last night. If the game six halftime show were a movie, Mr. Cranky would give it the mushroom cloud. The idea was to bring Joel Siegel out for a summer movie preview--never mind that half the summer movies are already out. Instead of previewing the movies, though, it was just one massive commercial for several of them. The second most blatant plug was for Pirates of the Caribbean by (according to Mike Tirico) the "master of the action movie" Jerry Bruckheimer. In addition to massive enthusiasm, we also got the full length trailer here. But again, nothing compared to the horror of the night, the culmination of the advertising synergy between the NBA and The Hulk. During the whole preview we kept hearing about "the biggest star of the summer", who is of course the 15-foot-tall poorly animated Hulkster. After the actual clip segment of the plug, though, we were treated to one of the most ridiculous sights in TV history:

Joel Siegel and Mike Tirico. Wearing giant Hulk fists.

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried, folks; my only solace is that, if these ratings are any indication, I was apparently the only witness to this monstrosity.