Every Sunday Morning, a place where various things get thrown out, shot at, cut open, and dissected. Topics of interest: psychological, and medical anthropology, privatization, globalization, excess, language, humor, hip-hop culture, jazz, brain and mind, memory, urban space development, Los Angeles, the Chicago Bulls, UCLA Bruins, FC Barcelona, and mankind.
10 years ago, I was graduating 8th grade and preparing to go to the finest high school in all of LA. I did my reports way before everyone else, including an autobiography final project. I felt ahead of the class, on top of the world.
Part of that heightedness feeling was the fact that I stored part of my happiness in Chicago Bulls championship victories. I didn't have any TV series to help me make sense of anything, that is make metaphors to real life, all I needed was the Chicago Bulls winning the title and everything would be right with the world.
The good ole days of good guys and bad guys. Conquering heroes, mad bald-head villains. Costas gave the perfect commentary too giving the game this mythic quality. It was like something I couldn't touch, but felt in everyone bone and neuron on my body.
MJ retiring as soon as I got to high school was like taking away the idea of Santa Claus away from a kid.
Nowadays, 10 years fast-forwards, it's just the Bulls. A cast of regular people who just happen to specialize in basketball. They are just as old as I am, they're my homies, and they can win sometimes, but sometimes not. Especially not a lot this past season. There's no bad guys to rail against, just a bunch of other rich young guys.