Watching Game 5 of the NBA Finals with my son. Kevin Durant just went down, and as we watched the replay I spotted a fan—some guy in the front row along the baseline, decked out in a Toronto No. 33 jersey—waving goodbye to the Golden State star.
I turned to Emmett and said, “Can you believe this idiot?”
I can’t.
I get being a diehard. I get wanting my team to win. I get spending money on a ticket and craving an interactive experience. But what I don’t understand—what I truly, truly, truly, truly, truly don’t understand—is being an asshole. Is taking delight in another’s malady. Even if that person is on an opposing team, and makes a ton of money.
I truly don’t understand.
Tomorrow, I hope ol’ No. 33 fucks up at work. I hope he sends off the wrong e-mail, or pays the wrong customer.
And I hope someone waves at him.
Derisively.
