Coronation

 I can see it all so clearly now through the magic of videotape. Actually, I'm pretty sure they don't use tape anymore. It's probably some sort of high end digital recording, but that's where I will look to witness all the excitement and glory of the Golden State Warriors' championship run. 

Oh, it's not like I'm a bandwagon jumper. That is, unless you believe that I selected this particular blue and gold bandwagon way back when I moved to the Bay Area, and suffered through several anemic seasons before landing at this particular point in franchise history where the word "dynasty" gets tossed around as if it really meant something. 

Because it does. Winning four championships over the course of just eight years is Tom Brady kind of stuff. That kind of success is pretty unheard of in the world of sports, especially now when players flirt with free agency and following the money seems to be the rule rather than the exception. No, this group is exceptional. Just two years removed from having the worst record in the National Basketball Association to celebrating with champagne and trophies. Winning that last game when everyone else is sitting at home watching is special, and I feel privileged to have been able to take it all in.

I didn't, exactly. 

A few years back during their last championship run, I stopped watching their playoff games. Initially it was precautionary since I wasn't sure that my nerves could handle all the back and forth and multiple lead changes that are inevitable in playoff basketball. When I stopped watching, they kept winning, and knowing that one of the foremost rules in all of sports is that you never mess with a streak, I kept stopping. This did not mean that I never saw any of their performances. I kept track of them vigilantly through the magic of ESPN and other cable sports networks that were happy to replay even entire games for me to witness their dominance after the fact. 

And, if they did happen to let one get away from them, I allowed myself to be excused from having to pore over the loss. This system worked exceedingly well, and my blind faith was rewarded. I was even happily surprised to find out that my principal practiced the same behavior, and it was during the last two minutes of the deciding game six when she texted me to let me know it was "safe to watch." 

For that last one hundred twenty seconds, I soaked up all the emotion and excitement that had been keeping me from relaxing fully for the past two months. Part of me wishes that I would have allowed myself to watch more of the action live. What good is all that superstition anyway? 

How about four championships in eight years? That'll work for me.