"the view from behind the bench"

nope, give me a hint.

on a separate note, does anyone else think it's pointless trying to figure out what Morey is gonna do? we have these threads where everyone (including me) is going crazy trying to predict the deal; and yet, time and again, Morey has pleasantly surprised all of us with every single deal. i wish everyone would just relax and wait; there are a million duplicate threads on the front page of the GARM about Yao retiring and Trade conspiracy theories that could all be consolidated into 1 or 2 threads. very annoying.

 

is that kurt rankin using a smilie?

 

for everyone that's too lazy to go to the blog, here's the write-up, in 3 parts:

the view from behind the [Rockets] bench

from an early age, we follow our favorite hometown teams. a part of us dies with each heartbreaking loss, and we’re given new life every time we – yes, We – come back from behind. the team that we can’t help but love often becomes the team we love to hate, and yet we still follow it. we watch the players on the tube, we yell at them, we cheer from the nose-bleeders, we do everything short of saying something to their faces – until we get the chance to see them in person.

I had that very opportunity some time ago, coming upon a courtside seat behind the Rockets bench. It was a dream come true for me, a virtually lifelong Rockets fan, to see the very players that I read about each and every day. <b>this opportunity wouldn’t have come into being if it weren’t for my dear family friends Ajay, Sippi, and Reetu. I am indebted to them not only for the seats, but for the experience. </b>

what follows is a compendium of what transpired on that night. At times naïve and other times outrageous, just the same it is a genuine representation of my sentiments from that night.

…

growing up middle-class, you resign yourself from any prospects of sitting at a courtside seat for your favorite sporting team. It doesn’t matter how much you love the team because money talks. you come to grips with the fact that you’ll be on the upper end of the arena because, at the end of the day, attending basketball games is a luxury. And paying over $250 for two-and-a-half hours of entertainment is a great luxury.

well, from as long as I can remember, I vowed that, should I be in a position of financial flexibility that would allow me attend a Rockets game anywhere below the rafters, I would make the most of it. In the past, i’d find myself many a time watching games where the broadcast would show poster signs brought by the fans. Between the “Go Rockets” and “We Believe” signs, you’d find cop-out posters making an acronymic message using the letters of the broadcasting station – a desperate, yet frequently successful, method of getting on-camera screen-time.

well, <b>I wanted to make my posters count.</b> anyone can make a boring “DE-FENSE” poster. people have and they still do. they bring in one bland poster, and are stuck with it for the whole game. they can’t say what’s really on their minds or what they’re really yelling at the t.v. because of censorship, resources, and opportunity. Those that are in the media, like my friend Raheel who works for 1560 AM (1560 The Game], are similarly restricted, as they must practice some degree of journalistic objectiveness and propriety when covering the action.

<b>tonight, I am gonna change all of that.</b> using a number of lines that I had conjured up over the past few weeks, as well as a couple that I had received from fellow BBS members on Clutchfans.net, I set off for the game with my multiple posters in tow.

<b>I generally strive to be different, and in that same vein, the messages I was to use had very precise criteria. they had to be witty. </b>they couldn’t be generic. Given my intense following of the team, I figured the best messages would be closely tied to the goings-on of the season, including common complaints voiced by the Rockets faithful – not necessarily inside jokes, per se, but definitely particular to our team’s set of concerns. Above all, I wanted to be remembered not for just any signs, but for those that packed an intelligent – but funny- punch.

I also realized that, given my surroundings and my aim (to get my posters some screen-time), I’d have to stand out. I needed to separate myself from the corporate and/or high-rollin’ riff-raff that I would be sitting with. It didn’t have to be a bright yellow shirt amidst a sea of Rockets Red, but just something that would either help my cause (getting on-air), or at least not take away from it. Fortunately, I had just the shirt. I had gotten my hands on an (at-the-time) exclusive <b>Obama </b>shirt, and felt that now was as good a time as any to break it out.

We arrive there late because of the traffic & parking (but mostly because my preparations had me running behind). Despite missing the pre-game introductions, we get down to our seats behind the bench just as the starters are taking off their warm-ups and the bench players are doing their little huddle dance. (also notable - Keith Jones, arguably the fly-est dressing trainer in the NBA, is wearing JEANS with his plaid coat. Suffice it to say, I'm kinda shocked. Oh, the things you can see from up close!)

At this point, I'm as giddy as a schoolboy and blown away by the truly awesome size of the players. Scola is five feet away from me, and he has an absolutely towering presence, as do the rest of the players. And Yao – my God (Allah) – what a freak of nature! You haven’t seen a giant in real life until you’ve seen Yao Ming. my friend Reetu, who is sitting next to me, is already shooting pictures of the players high-fiving and getting pumped, and I’m still shocked by their size. I cannot emphasize enough how much taller they seem in person compared to how they seem on t.v. or from the nose-bleed seats.

Once the awe wears off, my excitement starts to thaw, and I begin to furiously snap photos, thinking this is as good as it’s gonna get. Little do I know, little do I know…

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As we near tip-off, I start thinking about my sign ideas, and wonder when the first time-out will be. I figure that typical decency would require that, if I’m to hold up a sign, it cannot be during the actual game play. As I’m thinking about this, I’m struck by the sheer number of security guards on both sides of the bench and between the court and the crowd. That, plus the fact that I can touch Coach Rick Adelman’s wavy hair from my seat, again hits home that <b>I'M SITTING BEHIND THE ROCKETS BENCH.</b> This makes me scared to write anything on my signs because I’m afraid of getting kicked out. I realize that I might have to give up on the idea (which is heartbreaking in its own right), but ‘try’ to enjoy the game nonetheless. (More on this later.)

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The Rockets call their first time-out, and that means camera time – or so I think. for big games, the home viewers often see the cameras follow the players from the court into the huddle, and often show a view inside the huddle. I realize that this is no such game. the nearest cameras are way off by the basket supports, blocked by towers like Scola, Landry, Deke, and Yao.


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Evidently still giddy, I don’t start really following the game play until after that. I see longtime referee Joey Crawford running the sidelines. I see Deke standing up during a play on the floor, upset about the no-call. having seen camera shots of the very same action for years, seeing it all in-person is all too surreal.

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After another break in the action, Yao comes out of the game. I take this opportunity to capture some video of the huddle - from right behind Brooks – and, again, think this is as good as it’s gonna get. Keep in mind, this is still exhilarating – I’m TWO FEET behind the huddle! To show the (lack of) distance, I extend my hand in the middle of this video as if I’m about to touch AB.

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Once play resumes, it's cute, in a way, to see Yao & Dikembe both stand up cheering the team on.

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By this point, a few of the players have kinda seen my shirt, but I haven’t really been calling for anyone’s attention since I haven’t been able to make any signs. I choose to single out Keith Jones, calling out, “Hey Keith, you like my shirt?” He turned around, looked at it, and started smiling. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to capture the exchange on video. (maybe next time.)

During this stretch, I re-discover the brazen, boisterous fan within me, and start talking mess about the game. Without cussing (the entire night!), I call out one of the opposing players for flopping, yelling “Quit Acting – they already gave out the Oscar nominations!” admittedly, this line was long and, as a result, not very funny. Then I realize how remarkable it is that these coaches (head & assistants) aren't but a measly 4-5 feet away from me, and yet there is absolutely no reaction from them as I'm yelling. I instantly reform <b>my goal: I must get them to laugh, or at least get SOME kind of reaction from them. </b>

 

here's part 2:

I turn my attention to the refs, and start calling out Joey Crawford thoroughly, insinuating that he’s on the opponents’ payroll (“C’mon Joey! How much are they paying you?”). I also implore him to make the calls for Yao that he’s been missing up to that point, groaning loudly, “Joey Joey Joey!” This last line, albeit simple, does the trick – Assistant Coach Jack Sikma turns around and starts laughing, and the high-rollers around me (the company I keep, haha) cannot get enough. The night has already been a success!

During an ensuing time-out, the Toyota Center people play a video of Scola teaching everyone how to say ‘Defense’ in Spanish (“Defensa”).

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I stop recording after his video clip, but afterwards Scola is laughing and everyone is giving him a hard time.

Along the narrow sideline where we are all seated, there are a few other people besides the aforementioned security guards. One of those people is the Gatorade guy who turns out to be so damn cool. (more on that later.) I don't get a good direct picture of the 3-tiered shelf right in front of me, but it's full of protein bars and snacks that the players consume during the game. Here’s a clip of him filling up the players’ bottles with <b>Promethazine & Codeine Drank.</b> (just kidding - it's orange Gatorade.)

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One of the more enjoyable moments in the game happens next. during one of the time-outs, the Rockets Power Dancers do the now-ubiquitous Beyonce/Single Ladies number, complete with the outfits and what-not. Well, not surprisingly, the players - specifically Von Wafer - are having a hard time not staring. <b>Von Wafer doesn't hide it at all</b>, as you can tell from the video below, while Chuck, Landry, and Luther all play it cool. I call out to Wafer and the players that “I see [them]” ogling the cheerleaders.

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Well, now it's halftime. I catch Keith Jones's attention as he’s leaving the court and he winks at me. (Had I known he was going to wink, I would’ve got it on my camera, but no dice.) I also don’t realize that Rockets commentators Matt Bullard and Bill Worrell leave during half-time, I’m assuming to use the restroom or get something to eat. (am I the only one that fondly remembers Calvin Murphy getting cookies from Rockets fans at the games and eating them during the broadcasts?) I see that Matt & Bill are leaving, and as you can tell from the pictures below, I am pretty hurried; thus the pictures come out blurry. While Matt is passing by us, I don’t know what to say, so I start yelling, “Matt! We love you, Matt!” he turns to look at us as he’s walking by and smiles at us. When Bill walks by, we give him the same line, and he goes off smiling, as well. <b>Speaking of Bill Worrell– look at that head of hair! Sweet Fancy Moses.</b>

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With the team having left, I realize that all of the security guards have left, too. I figure that now may be our only opportunity to write on our posters, so I do so. with about fifteen minutes left before the second half starts, we decide to check out the Lexus Lounge.

From the first moments, it’s obvious that the Lexus Lounge is the place to see and be seen. At once, it’s a club both for ballers as well as baller Executives. The overwhelming awe that I felt an hour earlier (when I first saw the players) returns as I look around at my ultra-exclusive surroundings. As we walk in, one cute sista looks at my shirt and says, <b>“that’s dope.”</b> Amused, I walk up to her and her friend and talk about the shirt. “You like it, right?” I ask. “Yeah, where’d you get it?” instead of giving her a straight answer, I pretend to be some kinda big-shot distributor, replying “Get at me later, and I’ll let you know.” She replies with a “pssshhh” and I walk off, chuckling.

Reetu and I walk around the Lounge, taking a glimpse at all of the private corporate suites, before we head back out. on my way out, I see that same girl from before, posted up in the same spot. I decide to say wassup to her and tell her about how to get the shirt instead of acting skittish. After telling her the details, we somehow get onto the topic of why she’s just chillin’ in the Lounge.

“’Cause I’m here to support my man.” Not realizing what she meant, I ask her who her man is. <b>“Chuck Hayes.”</b>

I realize that this is <b>Chuck’s fiancée Nicole,</b> and look down to see the rock on her finger. I tell her I remember seeing a picture of her and Chuck together sitting down, but I can’t remember when the picture was taken. I tell her it was maybe from their annual Tux & Tennies Charity Dinner, but I'm not sure. We chat a little while longer, and we get pictures with her. She starts tripping about me posting the picture everywhere, and so I ask her if she's heard of Clutchfans. At once, I realize what a dumb question it is (yes, of course she has), and so I tell her that everyone there will see it. homegirl is fly, though, and doesn’t really care.

Some other brotha stops me on my way out, also asking me about my shirt, and so I give him the 4-1-1.

Before we can leave, we’re kept inside the Lounge because the team uses the same hallway/tunnel to enter/exit the locker room, and they’re just now going back onto the court. Here are pictures of the Lounge & Nicole, as well as the old picture of her that I remember seeing. (Property of Sina News Services)

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We arrive at our seats, and before long the game starts. I’m getting increasingly anxious about my sign, since I now have it ready, and can’t wait to use it. But I’m still scared as hell – the same two security guards are staring me down, possibly b/c of my NY beanie and my “hip-hop” Obama shirt. They see me holding my closed-up sign (I don’t want anyone to see it, yet) in giddy anticipation, and likely fear that I have something illicit written on it.

The first time-out can’t come soon enough, but once it does, I stand up and show it. Choosing to comment on the endlessly injured state of affairs for the team, I go with the following as my first message: <b>“Keith Jones = Hardest Working Man in the NBA.” </b> Chuck Hayes sees it, smiles, and gets Keith Jones’s attention to look at it. Keith smiles, and then tells Chuck something in his ear – I’m assuming something about how I tried to get his attention earlier re: my shirt.

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The white guy security guard looks increasingly more agitated, like he’s battling a severe bout of constipation. It’s at this moment that I realize he looks like a poor man’s Flip Saunders (former NBA head coach of the Minnesota Timberwolves & Detroit Pistons). It was stunning to see the position he was sitting in; he wasn’t even facing the court, but rather the courtside fans along the bench area.

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Breathing a sigh of relief that no one came up to me and asked me to leave, I decide that I won’t be able to have fun for the rest of the game unless I can dispel any worries about getting kicked out. I decide to go up to the security guard (the brotha, not Flip Saunders) and tell him he need not worry about me. I tell him that I will keep it clean and that everything I’m writing is just nice, humorous fun. He lets me know that, “as long as there isn’t any profanity,” I’m alright. I tell him that we’re good, and, just for good measure, I ask him if he likes my shirt. (more about the security guards at the end.)

From this moment onward, my whole game plan changes. Forget about catering to the audience or the cameras – that ship has sailed. I’m gonna cater to the players, and if the people around me enjoy my signs, too, then hey, that’s great.

Throughout this point in the story, you may have noticed the absence of one dispensable character. I, of course, am talking about Tracy Lamar McGrady. he, of the oft-injured variety, had taken ill for tonight’s game for precautionary reasons. His most recent injury is a sprained ankle he suffered when Yao apparently ‘stepped’ on him. Yao was quoted in the Houston Chronicle as saying that he didn’t think it was that serious when it happened, but keep in mind that we’re talking about the <u>eggshell McGrady.</u>

With that in mind, I decide on my next poster, and await the next time-out. I go with the line, <b>“I sprained my ankle while writing this message.”</b> True story – As I’m writing the message, before I get to the word ‘ankle,’ the Gatorade man, who’s sitting three feet from me, taps me on my arm, and says, “I don’t think you can write _ _ _ _ _ _.” At first, I freak out and assure him that I was going to keep it all clean, but then I realize that everyone on the Rockets team (including the Gatorade man!) is in on the joke, and recognizes Tracy for what he is: a ______. I give the Gatorade guy some props, and get ready for the time-out.

 

here's part 3/3:

As I put the sign up, I realize that I’m bound to get some shocked reactions. In the video, pay close attention to Brent Barry and Chuck Hayes. Chuck’s reaction is PRICELESS. I get Rafer’s attention, as well, as you can see when he raises his eyebrows as he reads the sign.

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After the next few ensuing plays, there's another quick time-out because the Rockets are starting to put together a nice little run. I don't want to waste my more inflammatory lines. [I’m saving some for the rest of this game, as well as the next game(s) I’m able to attend.]

I decide to reach out to the players that haven’t seen the t-shirt yet. I write <b>“You know you want my t-shirt,</b>” as if I’m talking smack, and put up the sign. Check out Chuck’s reaction.

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I also recall that Dikembe Mutombo, a citizen of Congo, was specially invited to the inauguration of our current President, <b>Barack Hussein Obama</b>, and so I made it a point to get his reaction to the shirt, as well.

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Realizing that I should probably take this opportunity to connect some dots, in the same time-out, I go talk to Chuck and tell him about my conversation with his fiancee Nicole. It’s at this time that I realize that the players get in trouble if they talk to the fans. I’m literally right next to him, standing three feet away, talking to him about what I told Nicole in the Lexus Lounge, and poor Chuck has to keep looking forward and pretend he’s not listening to me (even though he’s smiling at what I’m telling him).

I also get Rafer’s attention, and get his reaction to the t-shirt and the NY beanie. He kinda smiles and raises his eyebrow. It’s not until later that I realize he’s probably down at the moment because AB is taking his minutes so far in this game.

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At this point, I’ve stopped worrying about the game - In part because I’m certain we’re going to pull out the victory, and in part because I’m thinking about what will go on my next poster.

In the last couple months, the Rockets have had an increasing number of games where, win or lose, they’ve absolutely collapsed in the 4th quarter. they’ve either given up huge, double-digit leads, or have let a neck-and-neck game become a blowout (on the losing end). In this vein, I came up with my next poster: <b>“Can we skip the 4th quarter?”</b> Watch Scola’s reaction, followed by Deke’s reaction.

<a href="http://x92.xanga.com/287f034ac5730233282353/b184073749.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://x92.xanga.com/287f034ac5730233282353/z184073749.jpg" style=" border-width: 0px;" width="400" alt="DSC02213" /></a>

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As the final quarter begins, I realize that I will have a chance at two more poster signs. I decide on which lines I'm gonna save for the next game(s), and then choose from what's left. For the penultimate sign, I figure that it’s gonna be more like a tribute to the players for making my night memorable, rather than making fun of someone. (don’t worry – the last one is gonna be vicious.)

I decide to make something up on-the-spot using the Mastercard ‘Priceless’ theme, but have a hard time coming up with something worthwhile without making fun of McGrady’s bloated contract. With time running out, I put down something genuine, hoping that it will keep the players happy until my last sign. <b>"This Seat = $500+, A Rockets Win = $0, Getting You to Laugh At My Signs = $Priceless"</b>

<a href="http://x2d.xanga.com/37bf014a35633233282363/b184073758.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://x2d.xanga.com/37bf014a35633233282363/z184073758.jpg" style=" border-width: 0px;" width="400" alt="DSC02220p" /></a>

Grinning from ear to ear, I get myself ready for the last time-out. I already know what I’m going to write. Although I came up with the nickname for McGrady, all credit for the line goes to a member of Clutchfans who submitted it to me in my request for suggestions: <b>“Hey T-Pain, I go to work everyday, why don’t you?”</b>

The responses are much chillier to this last poster, perhaps because the truth hurts. My only regret is that Tracy isn’t on the bench, as I would love to have his personal reaction caught on video. Towards the end of the video, I turn around and face the crowd with my sign, hoping to get a reaction out of them. (I do.) While doing so, about ten rows up from us I notice <b>Rockets (genius) General Manager Daryl Morey</b> stop talking to look at my sign. I get scared (I don’t know why) and close up my poster. I think part of it is because I respect him so much, and don’t want him to take offense to the line. Honestly, though, there’s nothing on my poster about him, and I obviously abstained from any profanity, so, realistically, I don’t have any reason to worry.

<b>Special shout-out goes out to my boy Joey Dorsey</b>, who took an active interest in my posters after he realized that I wasn’t afraid of putting anyone on blast, i.e. calling anyone out.

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.......

Some random comments about the actual game play: The game moves much faster from the courtside view than it appears to move on television... Everyone is huge, and the basketball goals look like toys for giants like Yao and Scola... I was surprised to find out that Adelman doesn’t necessarily go over plays during every time-out; many times, he just lets the players get some rest... Without McGrady out on the floor, the passing seems much more fluid and there seems to be much more movement by the players... The area below the rim is an absolute mosh-pit when the players are going for rebounds... The players are real people with real emotions... (no, really!)... the fans in the courtside seats either aren’t fans at all, or are just too shy to let their voices be heard... The coaches and players are trained very well at ignoring the crowd and hecklers (if any)... Assistant Coach Jack Sikma is huge, and his head is shaped like Rik Smits’s head... Assistant Coach <b>Elston Turner looks like a Poor Man’s Dominique Wilkins</b>...

One of the more important life lessons I learned from tonight was that <b>you must befriend the gatekeepers.</b> Whether it’s the personal assistants or secretaries or agents or security guards, if you can get on their good side, then you will have unfettered access to whatever pleases you.

I understand why the crowd in the lower bowl of the Toyota Center always appears to be half-empty during the beginning of each half; once you get in the Lexus Lounge, you don’t want to leave. The atmosphere is great, they have flat-panels and pool tables everywhere; they have a bar for the drinkers, suites for the high-rollers, and seating areas for the minglers.

All-in-all, tonight will go down as the best night of my life. I got to see my hometown team up, close, and personal, and spoke to celebrities that, before tonight, I could only see on the t.v. screen. And again, this experience wouldn’t have been possible without Ajay, Sippi, and Reetu, and to you all, I’m indebted.

<b>I promised myself that, should I get the chance to enjoy my Rockets courtside, I’m going to go all out. and on this night, I just about did.</b>

 

thanks, man. i wish others would give it a chance, even just 5 seconds, to realize it. if hindsight, maybe if the title of the thread were different, ppl would check it out. i'm not sure if there are any mods out there reading this, but if there are, feel free to edit the thread title to something like "Behind-the-Scenes Pics & Video at the Rox Game" or something of that ilk. i'd hate for the members here to miss out on something that i know they're gonna love.

 

thanks, everyone! i'm glad you all are enjoying the read!

 

why not? i just clicked on it, and it's opening up fine, despite the high-traffic. try it again.

http://www.xanga.com/djaesthetic786/692621217/the-view-from-behind-the-rockets-bench/