I’ve Never Understood Why We Watch Basketball

By Cliff Potts

I’ve tried. I really have.

People sometimes assume that if you don’t like basketball, you just haven’t given it a fair shot. So let me clear that up: I have. I’ve sat through games. I’ve been in the arena. I’ve watched the ball go in the basket, watched it come back the other way, and watched it go in the basket again.

That’s actually the problem.

The One Game I Remember Clearly

The last basketball game I remember attending was a Chicago Bulls game, years before Michael Jordan made it worth watching. I was there with a high school youth group. We had the cheap seats — way up high, where the players look like moving dots and the action feels distant, no matter how loud the crowd gets.

I was sitting next to a girl I was trying very hard to impress. At one point, I tried holding her hand. She looked at me, completely serious, and said, “You’re making my hand sweaty.”

That pretty much set the tone for the evening.

Meanwhile, On the Court

While that was happening, the game continued. Back and forth. Back and forth. The ball went one way, then the other. Someone scored. Then someone else scored. Then they ran back and did it again.

I honestly couldn’t tell you who won that night. What I remember is the motion. Running up and down. Running back. Running the other way. Over and over.

At some point, I gave up and started reading One Just Man.

It Never Seemed to Change

People talk about basketball as if it’s full of drama, but from where I was sitting, it looked remarkably consistent. The uniforms changed sides. The crowd reacted on cue. The clock kept moving.

The action itself never really surprised me.

I kept waiting for something different to happen.

It didn’t.

Hamsters and Wheels

Eventually, it occurred to me that basketball reminds me of hamsters in a wheel.

There’s nothing wrong with hamsters. Running is good for them. It burns off energy. It keeps them healthy. The wheel spins, the hamster runs, and everyone involved seems satisfied.

For the hamster.

The part I’ve never understood is why we’re all standing around watching.

Great for Them, Not So Much for Us

The players were clearly having a fine time. Running up and down, back and forth, one way, the other way. Great exercise. Great coordination. Great for them.

But for the rest of us — sitting in the nosebleed seats, holding sweaty hands, watching the same motion repeat — it didn’t do much.

A Modest Conclusion

I don’t begrudge anyone their basketball fandom. If it brings joy, that’s reason enough.

I just know that when I watch a game and the ball keeps going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, my mind wanders. I start thinking about other things. Quieter things. Things that don’t require a whistle to explain what just happened.

That night in Chicago, I learned two things.
Basketball isn’t for me.
And sweaty hands don’t help.

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