Last Friday, my friends and I went out for a night on the town. We were celebrating the 21st birthday of one of my best friends, so our collective mood was quite festive. And while both length and content restrictions won't allow me to fully chronicle the circumstances of the night, I can assure you it was a fun time.
Well, for the most part.
As they say, all good things must come to an end, but I can't imagine many have taken a turn for the worse as abruptly as events did on this particular evening. It took only about 30 seconds, a few admittedly poorly chosen words on my part, two astonishingly over-excitable bouncers and one cleanly landed - and exceptionally painful - left hook to my right temple for us to realize that our serene evening out had ended.
It's no wonder then, that when I woke up the following afternoon, safe and sound in my own bed - sober drivers, people - I was feeling exceedingly thankful. And when I turned on my phone to check Twitter - always the first task of my day - and saw that the NBA and its players had finally agreed to terms on a new deal, my gratitude only multiplied.
Yeah, it may have taken me a couple extra days, a harrowing life experience and the best news I'd heard in months, but I was finally in the Thanksgiving spirit. I was thankful for my more rational friends, who had removed me from the previous night's extracurricular events surprisingly effectively. Thankful for my strong chin, which masked most evidence of the blunt force trauma to my face. And obviously, thankful that basketball, my favorite sport, had miraculously been revived after months of seemingly being on life support.
I can't express how grateful I am that I will actually get to see Carmelo Anthony and Amar'e Stoudemire play one full - or at least somewhat full - season together in New York. As a lifelong, and thus tormented, Knicks fan, the thought of being forced to lose an entire season at this juncture of my life was almost unbearable. It was like staying faithful to an utterly psychotic, morbidly obese girlfriend for 10 years, sticking with her through thick and thin, and then - right when she shed 500 pounds and finally regained her sanity - she was promptly thrown in jail. I lose sleep over these things, people.
Speaking of lockout ending appreciation, I bet Kobe Bryant is all sorts of pumped up that he wont be forced to miss any more games in his Hall of Fame career. As much as he may say he doesn't, nobody in the NBA cares more about his perceived legacy, and therefore his stats, than Kobe. And with many significant milestones well within his reach - not to mention, a brand new, experimental-German-surgery-infused knee at his disposal - we should all be appreciative that we get the chance to watch a highly motivated and uncommonly rested Kobe Bryant play basketball again.
And while Kobe is busy giving thanks for another opportunity to tie Jordan's six NBA titles, I would imagine that LeBron James is undoubtedly thankful for another shot at winning his first. Personally, I'm just grateful I'll be able to see if, in his lockout-induced time off, LeBron has worked on any of his basketball deficiencies - some as easily fixed as his complete absence of a low post game, others intrinsically unfixable such as his shriveling like a weathered prune in big moments.
Actually, while we're on the topic of winning and being "clutch," I'm thankful that the Sports Gods blessed us with Tim Tebow. Yeah, I said it. In a world riddled with overly arrogant athletes who fold in big moments, Tebow is a much-needed breath of fresh air. I honestly don't know how he's doing it, especially in spite of a disturbingly unsupportive John Elway and a throwing arm just slightly better than my own, but the kid simply can't be beat right now. Thank you for turning the football world squarely on its head, Tim, even if it's only temporarily.
And thanks in advance to Dirk Nowitzki because, if his elevated performance in last year's playoffs is any indication, there are countless more incredibly awkward, one-footed, herky-jerky, turnaround, fade-away jump shots in store for us this season. Nowitzki's patented move defies both the bounds of reality and the limits of unintentional comedy, and the thought of that makes me downright giddy.
Let's also show some appreciation to all the NBA players for being surprisingly well-behaved during this lockout. Nineteen NFL players were arrested during a span of 120 days during their work stoppage this past summer, yet I don't remember hearing of any criminal activity from the NBA players throughout their entire extended unemployment. There was no story on Delonte West masterminding a weapons cartel in Mexico, Eddy Curry holding up a string of fast-food restaurants in Chicago, or even Michael Beasley running a nationwide marijuana dispensary out of his Bentley.
Nothing.
On that note, I'm thankful that the next time I see Kevin Durant play a sport, it won't be intramural flag football. I'm thankful that I will never have to hear the name Billy Hunter again and that Derek Fisher will no longer be the most frequently shown player on "SportsCenter."
I'm thankful that basketball is back, that my life can now restore some semblance of normalcy and that, gradually, the pain in my face is dissipating.
But with all that said, the thing I'm undoubtedly most thankful for is the inherent understanding nature of my parents, who, with the aid of this column, have just now learned of my fateful night last weekend.
It's good to be thankful.
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