August 25th, 2005: Charlotte at New York

Charlotte Sting 78, New York Liberty 66

The Game Notes would like to actually be appreciated on Fan Appreciation Day, if it's all right with you.


If this is what the Liberty, as a team and as a franchise both, think of their fans, then perhaps they should stop wondering why people have stopped coming back. On the flip side, the behavior of a large number of Liberty fans this past night made them unworthy of serious consideration by any franchise that has half a clue.

I remember a time when the Charlotte Sting were a worthy rival, a team that Liberty fans couldn't stand during the games and would stand staunchly by once the buzzer sounded. We applauded Stint, Dawn, Vicky, Allison- all their stars, because they knew we knew what we were talking about, and we knew they were worthy. Obviously, that era is over, and I mourn it. Sheri Sam never shuts up. Helen Darling never shuts up. Tammy Sutton-Brown showboated- is she aware that she may be the first RU alum to get booed the next time she sets foot on the Garden court? That was the cockiest, nastiest 5-24 team I ever saw take a court for a game that only mattered for pride. At least Adrienne Goodson let Elena help her up off the floor this time. Nasty and physical and excessive, and I have the sneaking suspicion that when Kelly Mazzante was backing Becky up and talking trash in her face that she was using language that would have gotten her banned from any board in this fandom. You would think simple instructions regarding defense against Charlotte would have stuck for the Liberty, what with having played this team on this fucking court, oh, eleven days ago, but nooooo, Mazzante kept floating to the corners, Sutton-Brown kept getting looks in the paint, and Sam kept shooting no matter what. Matter and Mazzante on the floor at the same time is just too much zone-busting blondeness for one court to take, especially if Becky's on at the same time. Ayana Walker has serious ups. Janel McCarville needs to stick to the post. Muggsy needs to either get suits that fit properly or go get the peripherals and start moonlighting as a pimp (and if he follows up on the second option, I have a couple of suggestions as to who should be in his stable).

Where do I even begin with the Liberty? Do I start with Shameka, who is a sweet kid with a world of talent and great potential, but without a lick of common sense and the worst learning curve I've seen on almost any player to come through the Liberty organization? Or maybe Crystal, who we already know can't shoot with her pinky sliding out of place the way it is, who should really be getting the rolls on those slashing drives to the basket, who let Sheri Sam get under her skin to the point where her defensive game was wildly off so that Sam had to be entrusted to lesser defenders with tragic results? Maybe I should save some vituperation for Elena, who couldn't buy a bucket but failed to realize that her metaphorical credit card was being declined. I should also spare some words for Becky's lackadaisical defense and VJ's grinding hesitation that slew fast breaks before they could even be a hope of quick points. The bench must also get its proper due; after all, where would we have been without Erin's absolute lack of production, or those lay-ups that La'Keshia just couldn't get down? I can't really go sarcastic bitch on Cathrine, because she didn't do anything I needed to bitch about, though I'd like to know what happened to the full-fledged beast we've all come so quickly to love; she just wasn't fully herself tonight. I mean, yeah, there were some good points to the game- Elena and Becky were rebounding like nobody's business, VJ was driving and scoring, Cathrine was the ultimate sparkplug, and since when could Crystal dish like that? But it ws a frustrating game, half-played like it mattered more than life itself and half-played like it mattered not at all. Pick a damn inclination and stick to it. If you're going to play it, play it out. If you're going to fluff it as an extra you don't want and don't need, then start Cat and put Jennifer in before 1:01 of the second half. Rest the hosses you're going to need against Indiana on Tuesday. Experiment with the bench. Exhaust the crack supply. I'll bet that Elena's ankle wishes Patty had put La'Keshia in one play sooner. That bloody idiot- uh, Patty, not Elena or her sore ankle- is in over her head and needs to be GONE.

Rule of thumb: Fan Appreciation Day is not the day you blow past fans who have Sharpies. Fan Appreciation Day is the day you smile, accept that you'll be five minutes late, and talk to the nice people, because, hey, we know the schedule and we'll be quick, or maybe we'll slip you a few bucks towards the fine. This goes double if you decide to blow through the tunnel like you've been struck deaf. Elena, hon, I love ya, I danced in my dorm room when I read the dispersal draft results, but that's just bad karma, and bad karma's a bitch. Next rule of thumb: Fan Appreciation Day is not the day to be an officious ass to someone who's hanging out with a friend in a seat they have admitted isn't theirs, at least not twenty minutes before the game when the person's already said they're not planning to stay. Next rule of thumb: Fan Appreciation Day is the last day that arena management should neglect to select an autograph section.

Some other things to keep in mind: don't give your mascot playoff tickets and have him traipse around the arena unguarded unless you want the guy to die from suffocation. Kraayeveld spells her name Cathrine, not Catherine; at least that's a more explicable mistake than the infamous Vicky Johnson. If you're going to make the t-shirts rare, at least make them nice instead of some cheap-ass thing that looks like a basketball version of MST3K. Oh yeah, and don't play the goddamn rally song while one of your starters is on the floor clutching her ankle!

Not that the idiots with whom I shared much of the Garden were any better. After all, they were the ones pushing and shoving to get in like they were giving away money in that damn building. They were the ones who swarmed poor Maddie. They were the ones dancing and cheering while Elena writhed. I'm sure that must have made her feel special, knowing that no matter what, the precious show must go on around her. Because it's all about the free shit and the big furry dog, right? The basketball game is secondary, right? It has to be an entertainment experience, because nothing can be about itself anymore.

It's days like these, when people are idiots and it's the Sting players who turn around when someone calls while the Liberty walk right on by, that I'm left to wonder how much the Garden cares about people like I used to be, mid-range season ticket holders who drop their $200 on tickets and their $50 on tchochkes and their $50 on food, and they love their team like the child they maybe never had or the first crush they maybe never got over, and they choose going to every game in green seats over eight games in purple seats or two games in folding chairs because they fucking have to be there (doesn't matter where, but they have to be where their heart beats faster and their throat grows sore). We are family, Liberty fans; we swap gear and tickets and loan out our stuff like Cousin Jimmy just came in from Podunk; we trade favors and make deals, and when we're on the road ain't no one a stranger.

But Goddess almighty, why can't the people we came together for see that? Days like these, man, it's days like these when I feel Easy Spirit pumps coming down on my metaphorical fingers, and I think it would be so easy to get a life.

(kate, you likey the posters? I couldn't stay to give 'em to you in person.)