Class act

Watching the San Antonio Spurs make mincemeat of the Miami Heat gave me a sense of satisfaction not unlike the one I get when listening to the music of The Beatles, with most of the Sixties and Seventies music thrown in.

It is a satisfaction that is purely emotional, not something derived in the analytical sense, as most people are wont to do after every game. While I have my own theories about this or that, I am far from being an expert in this game.

So my satisfaction comes from the exhilaration of winning, not from getting my theories right. Analysis is something for the experts, which is why some of the better players in the game end up becoming broadcast analysts when they retire. They breathe basketball even when they sleep.

Me, I just love the game from the perspective of a spectator, although I did play it when I was younger. But I never did excel in the game, although I also had my moments, just like any of those bench players who suddenly found some particular game going for them.

I started playing the game in neighborhood backyards, dirt courts that suited bare feet perfectly. I never went into the great physical plays of the game owing to my slight build but I did get to polish somewhat my outside shots.

The best game I ever had was during an inter-department competition here in The Freeman. It was great because nobody really excelled over everybody else. All the teams were more or less evenly matched in talent, or the lack of it.

My best game was when I scored 19 points, the highest I ever had in my career, if I can even call it that. Of those 19 points, 15 came from three-point shots. That's right, five three-point shots. Peanuts for NBA superstars but a delirium for a so-so player like me.

Those five three-point shots were particularly memorable for me because they came with nobody guarding me. Ha ha. The opposing players took me for granted. They did not even bother to put a hand to distract my aim. So off the shots went. And in they fell. Now I know what TG Guingona must have felt.

Anyway, enough of a passion I was never good in. But, like music, it is a passion I am extremely satisfied with and proud of. Because I feel it. And because I feel it, I am exhilarated by it. I do not break down games and music to see why they are good. If they make me happy, they must be good.

Which brings me back to the NBA finals, and my exhilaration and extreme happiness on seeing San Antonio demolish Miami. But first let me say that my team is the Boston Celtics, always had been. But the Celtics fell by the wayside. So I rooted for San Antonio.

Why San Antonio? Because I always go for the underdog. As I said, I am not into analyzing things. You may have your own mind about these things but I won't get into an argument with you or anyone. I just felt that the Spurs were the underdogs going into the finals.

Besides -- and think what you will -- but I could never get around to rooting for any team that has a LeBron James in it. To me, a game is still a game, no matter if it is a professional one and players make obscene amounts of money to excel in them.

LeBron is a great player. In fact he is the best in the world today. But his character has no room for a little humility. He jumps up on tables and thrusts his jaw out while beating his breast with his fist. When the Spurs emerged champions, for the fifth time at that, none of them had the slightest swagger. That's class.

Interviewed after the loss, LeBron said the Heat led in the first quarter because he tried to lead the charge but that when he looked over his shoulder, there was nobody there. In other words, he blamed the rest of his team for the loss. There is no class in that. And no humility either. But that is just me, a so-so player.