This is the one time of year that I live for. The start of Fall means the getting into the meat of the college and pro football, the end of baseball season, and, of course the start of the NBA.
This year, it looks like we'll miss out on that last one.
Let me preface all this by saying I'm a HUGE basketball fan.
Growing up in the city of San Antonio, the NBA is the only major sport that plays in my backyard. All the other allegiances that I hold for pro teams are at least a four hour drive away from where I live.
I grew up bleeding Silver and Black. At one time, I cherished an Dwayne Schintzius autographed basketball. I showed up to dozens of games the year Dominique Wilkins was the San Antonio Spurs leading scorer. Something got in my eyes when I saw David Robinson lift that trophy after the last game he ever played.
My career, at one point, was dedicated to following those guys every move.
In spite of all that... I'm not terribly heartbroken if we don't get the season started on time. Part of me even wonder if I'd even be THAT beat up if the season doesn't happen at all.
Why might I feel like that?
The answer is simple... I've felt like that for a long time!