In each of the past two years, as the NBA season has winded down and 16 teams have begun their quest for the championship, I haven’t been able to help lapsing into a profound reverie on the current state of the game.
After waking from these interminable hours of musing to stare at the screen and see the Bucks play the Magic, I always arrive at the same, overused conclusion—it just isn’t what it used to be.
To what do I attribute this corny feeling of athletic nostalgia? To the absence of Michael Jordan.
People may argue that he could only be enjoyed for so long, that the reign of His Airness would eventually come to an end and his departure would be inevitable.