I’m not a sports nut. I’m only mildly interested in some sports because of my son. Yet he and I had this rousing discussion the other night about the Spurs and it amused me no end. We both love them. He, for their individual skills. Me, because of what happens to San Antonio when they’re in the playoffs.
I admire the guys on the team, because they’re real and genuinely decent men. If I had to pick a favorite player, it would be Manu Ginobili. I just like the guy.
I’ve told this story before, but one day, my son was somewhere and the whole team walked in. He was wearing a Spurs jacket and they offered to autograph it for him. Every single one of them did, signing their name on the silver lining on the inside. John’s never worn the jacket again. It’s hanging in a plastic bag in his closet and probably has some sort of note DO NOT TOUCH on it.
But most, I love what the Spurs do for all of us. We San Antonians honk at each other. We have Spurs flags in our yards. Chain restaurants give away coffee on game day. You can’t go anywhere in the city without seeing huge banners everywhere. Employers are understanding if you’re groggy after a late game. I used to work with women who decorated their cubbies in silver and black, only wore those colors and had these huge honkin’ necklaces in sequins that spelled out SPURS.
Yet when we’ve won, we’ve never rioted. We’ve never burned cars in the streets. We have a fiesta and people gather to laugh and hug each other. Isn’t that the real reason for a sports team? To bond, to have fun, to celebrate, and to take ourselves away from normal life?
The Spurs do all that and more and they do it with class.