Just in time: NBA gives us Calvin-Hope intro

The full-grown babies whine. The true basketball players and fans go to (or watch around the world by satellite) the Calvin-Hope game. Beautiful. As if that weren t enough, the storyline gets better, in an after-Christmas special; going into tomorrow s game, the all-time series has spanned 140 games. And it s tied. Come on: pinch me! This is a basketball dream:. 70-70. The points difference after all these years is 17. A Calvin win tomorrow, and Hope’s ten-game winning streak against Calvin, its longest in history, is cold coffee. A Hope win, and the trend continues true to tradition, reviving the cliche: throw out the records when these teams meet; there is no underdog.

We saw this last year, of course, when an outmanned Calvin team took an eventual national runner-up Dutch squad to overtime. And we ve seen it throughout the 78-year history of the Calvin-Hope basketball rivalry. It s not just the names, though the alumni list is dazzling, including prominent faculty, coaches, athletic directors, and even referees on both sides of the great divide. But, unlike the 90’s-style circus that has become the NBA, the importance of the Calvin-Hope rivalry lies in the jerseys more than their occupants. Again, unlike the NBA, playing or watching as Calvin battles Hope is a link to a storied past as much as an affirmation in the present.

And to illustrate this by contrast, as if on cue, is the NBA, which, last time we checked, stands for “no brains anywhere.” We could go on for hours and hours (or, longer yet, the third quarter of a yawn Sacramento-Denver game) about how the lockout was a display of raw avarice, the ultimate insult to fans, deep-frying the hand that fed them. But let’s cut to the chase: What was the only reason the sides drew this out so tediously? Reputation. It’s not that either side gained a centimeter by wasting our time. It’s just that no one, especially union leader Billy Hunter, wanted to look like the wimps coming out of it.

So the league s future is hanging in the balance, and the season is nixed purely for the sake of Billy Hunter and future megastars like professional five-year-olds Allen Iverson. If the population of people that mattered was reduced to these babies during the lockout, the fans should make sure this doesn’t change when NBA arenas open their advertisement-infested doors next month. The league is facing a crisis here, and Stern’s blithe platitudes about how basketball is growing globally cannot veil a crumbling empire. Jordan has ended a golden era, leaving the league’s shaky future in the hands of the five-year-olds. The pro game itself is about as exciting as observing idle styrofoam, as commercialism and glamor have replaced much semblance of basketball.

Ah, what a welcome transition back to the Calvin Fieldhouse, which tomorrow will have more atmosphere in its drinking fountains than all the NBA games in this year’s shortened season combined. You think I m exagerrating? Two years ago the Calvin-Hope game at the Van Andel Arena sold over 11,000 tickets faster than one of NBA crybaby Kenny Anderson’s eight cars, and it could have sold scads more. Meanwhile tickets to the NBA’s vacuous corporate-named arenas go to corporate clients for the price of a well-equipped stereo system. OK, show of hands here: who’d rather go watch, say, a Bucks-Nets game than Calvin-Hope? I d have better luck asking for on-the-spot leg donors. It s kind of fitting, actually, that the game is back in the Fieldhouse now, after the Van Andel experiment two years ago.

Sure, that event was a huge success in many ways, and might happen again if Hope wants to give up its homecourt advantage next time. But Calvin-Hope at the Van is a fish out of water. The players knew this, as they had better luck finding the arena billboards (did somebody say “commericalization”?) than the baskets back on January 29, 1997. The fans knew this, after failing to locate each other in the cavernous setting. You can t play real basketball and have a real basketball rivalry in what looks too much like the NBA. It’ll be nice to hear deafening roars again tomorrow afternoon. So while tomorrow’s game may need no introduction, the NBA was just dying to give us one. There it is. Now if anyone tries to get you to care about the NBA again, take the lessons of the game tomorrow to heart: tell them you’re a real basketball fan who watches real basketball.