Let's face it. There are a million places in this day and age where you can gather information on your favorite topics. There is a Facebook Group for "Badly Stiffed Animals", a Sub-Reddit for "DogTalk", and a podcast on dental hacks. Whatever your passion or obsession is, the ability exists to connect and discuss with people worldwide. It is an interesting time to be alive indeed.
I have created this blog to carve out my niche, a place to voice my passion, and an area to put forth my opinion. I don't expect many will read the words I put down, but I hope that those that do enjoy seeing the world through my eyes. I have a passion carried by many, many others. No, it's not /r/DataArt.
My passion is Phoenix Suns basketball.
I have always been a fan of the game of basketball. Growing up in Southern California in the mid-1980's, you'd think that the Showtime Lakers would have been the catalyst of my affection for the game. With Magic Johnson, James Worthy, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar leading the way, you'd think that I would've been glued to my TV set every night waiting to seem them play. Their fast paced play of championship basketball dominated the world I grew up in. As an Arizona native, you'd think my parents would've bought me a Byron Scott (the pride of Arizona State University) jersey. You'd be wrong.
My parents loved watching sports, and I, as their oldest son, loved watching along side them. The opinions my dad held were sacred to me. I loved who he loved, from Los Angeles Dodgers baseball to Notre Dame Fighting Irish football. One thing he did not love was the Los Angeles Lakers. We were from Phoenix. We were Suns fans. Although he did point me in one direction as a young child, as he observed one player the likes of which he had never seen. "Pay attention, son," he said to me once, "this Michael Jordan kid is the best basketball we'll ever see."
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My father, the man who taught me to love sports.
And I did. My obsession as a child was not originally the Phoenix Suns. It was with His Airness, Michael Jeffery Jordan. My teen years were full of joy, as I watched the Bulls win championship after championship. When the Chicago Bulls played the Phoenix Suns in the '93 NBA Finals, I was conflicted. Do I stick with my family ties? Do I route for the player I loved? I decided that I would just enjoy the experience, which in hindsight was pretty astute for a lad of 10 years old.
I remember living in Simi Valley, eating Pizza Hut's Bigfoot Pizza, and watching John Paxson (a Notre Dame grad) hit the game winner in Game 6. I did what I always did after the Bulls won a championship...I shaved my head (little would I know that I would kill to have that hair back, seeing as male pattern baldness hit me hard at the age of 19). It was my last summer in Southern California and, as fate would have it, the last championship Michael Jordan would experience with Horace Grant, Bill Cartwright, and B.J. Armstrong. We moved back to Phoenix, and with no Jordan, my love for the Suns truly began.
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(Photo by Andrew D. Bernstein/NBAE via Getty Images)
The years following Jordan's retirement were a tough introduction to Suns basketball. Talent and heartbreak have been two consistencies in the team's 51 year existence. In the '93-'94 season, the Suns won 56 games, swept the Golden State Warriors in Round 1, and lost in 7 to the eventual NBA Champion Houston Rockets. I learned basketball heartbreak for the first time that summer (and what an Arizona summer truly feels like!). I was used to my team making the big shot, the big pass, and surviving the big moment.
The '94-'95 team won 59, but again was ousted by the Rockets, this time in devastating fashion. Mario Elie hot a corner 3 pointer with 7.1 seconds remaining. As the ball went through the cylinder, my remote went to the floor. Yes, Mario Elie owes me a remote, the first one I ever broke. This was the Suns best chance to win a ring and they lost in Game 7, 115-114. In that moment I truly became a Suns fan. I felt what my fellow Phoenicians felt two years prior at the hands of Jordan.
Jordan was back for the '95-'96 run, but I was a Suns fan now. Did I enjoy watching him win? Of course. But it never felt the same. The Suns were on every night on UPN45, and Al McCoy was the soundtrack to my world.
I could go on and on about my Suns experiences. Being stationed overseas and experiencing the Run and Gun Phoenix Suns at 7:00am in Korea? The Robert Horry hip-check? The Kobe getting his Raja Bell-ed? The excitement my friends and I had watching playoff basketball at Max Sports Grill (been a while since we did that, eh?)? I have plenty of memories watching them for the past 25 years, and I'll save some of my experiences for other blog posts.
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Know this: I am a Suns fan. I love this team. I am not a band-wagoner or fare-weather fan. I've been there for the wins. I've suffered through the loses. But I've always been there. I watch almost every game and love them no matter what. I know I'll have unpopular opinions. I know I'll be critical. Why? Because I care. I will always come from a place of care for this team, as they have given me so many memories.
I hope you enjoy reading my insight into the Phoenix Suns. If not, I'm sure /r/whocares is waiting...
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