I am probably a typical case. Never qualifying as a diehard NBA fan, I nonetheless enjoyed the sport and typically became more invested during the playoffs. I loved watching the NBA Finals, especially, and had missed very few Finals games in the past decade or so. I never had a home team but rooted for my favorite players. I had followed Lebron James’s career, in particular, since his first stint with the Cleveland Cavaliers.
But I didn’t watch a single minute of this past NBA season. LeBron and the Lakers won the trophy on Sunday and I didn’t realize that the game was even happening, or that the Lakers were up in the series. I found out the next day, due to viral footage of Lakers fans rioting in celebration (apparently, revelers celebrating a basketball team’s victory are immune to COVID, just like BLM activists and attendees of memorial services for Democrats). This was the first NBA season I’ve ever ignored, and I didn’t miss it. Being a sports fan is like being under some sort of trance. You care immensely about this thing, for reasons you can’t quite explain, but if the spell breaks and you stop caring, you will wonder why you ever did or why you should start again.
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