Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Belieb In Your Teams

Oh, just in time for the NBA Finals (is there more than one Final?) comes Justin Bieber and his appearance courtside in Miami for Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Final (yeah, I'm sticking with the singular now). I'm sure the entire globe has seen The Biebs in all his glory. If not, here he is for your scrutiny.


Yo, dat's da way u drink wadder, bay-bee

We'll leave the fashionistas to critique his headgear that suggests he might be channeling the Great Gazoo, the Mr. T starter kit and the leather shirt and pants (say, didn't Mr. Leather Pants himself Jim Morrison have a relationship with Miami as well?). The real buzz that has hit the sports fan is exactly what team(s) does this short lesbian icon frontrunner bandwagoneer actually root for? Thank you guyism.com for this indelible Biebs' cap collage.

 Why must I choose only one when there are so many to enjoy?

Of course, no one expects any celeb looking to score prime seats to expand his fan base even wider than was thought humanly possible to actually care about sports so . . . why the comedic gold mining?

Well, as The Sports Guy Bill Simmons got on his soapbox and pointed out there are a few rules about sports team allegiances. Read the whole article here. The crux of the argument is apparently you're pretty much married for life to whatever team you first become attached to in any sport and cannot get a divorce or even sleep around with another team UNLESS that team moves and leaves you heartbroken first.

Yes, even a marriage contract apparently has more loopholes than this one.

Now applying that fave sports team contractual logic (and it is logical to most sports fans despite the fact we're basically cheering for laundry year after year as the song may remain the same but the players, coaches, management and owners sure don't while the laundry may even change for the worse) to other realms it makes about as much sense as the Biebs' sartorial choices--a San Francisco Giants cap with a Texas Rangers jacket? Oh, I see, he's got both major leagues covered.

Let's start with music. Say you're a teenager in the late '80s/early '90s and you fall in love with, say, Oasis. That's it. You better not buy any other bands' T-shirts, CDs (CDs? You mean those shiny coasters my dad has that apparently used to be vehicles to deliver music to our ears?) or see any other bands live unless they're backing up Oasis until Noel finally breaks it off with Liam.

Same with movies (or "fillums" if you prefer, Art). Let's say instead, you're a young whippersnapper in the late 1970s yet to discover punk rock. Along comes a small low-budget flick called Star Wars. You fall in love with the stylings of Mark Hammill. You best not be jumping ship and going to see Blade Runner a few years later with Han Solo in a futuristic trenchcoat. Nope, you've made your bed and now will get plenty of "joy" from Luke Skywalker's scintillating work through the decades.

What do I know? I'm still wearing Fred Perrys and Levi jeans, and it's 2013 although I do hope I've moved on musically and cinematically.

So why don't we all just embrace the Biebs's attitude in the 21st century. After all, look where loyalty gets Cub or Make Belief fans? Heck, look at America's Team now? The players can all be free agents, why can't we fans? You know the Biebs is probably ahead of the curve. It's no longer about what team we support in a deathlike grip until, well, death. It's about the Ws, my man, woman and child!

The New World was not created by loyally following what our Old World ancestors told us to do. It was formed by shifting alliances, pitting one tribe against another until the Earth was scorched so hipsters could tell us how we should live on it in this century.

So, ask not what "your" teams can do for you, ask yourself if the heartache of losing is worth any of it, Cleveland. Come on over to the Dark Leathery Upholstered Side of Team Bieber. Let the Biebs show us the way. Today the Miami Heat. Tomorrow maybe he takes a Riverwalk on the San Antonio Spurs' side.

To update what that great Metropolitan sports philosopher from the last century, Tug McGraw, said--Ya Gotta Belieb, baby, baby, baby.

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