I did not shout in excitement when Indiana’s Obi Toppin dunked home the rebound of Tyrese Haliburton’s missed lay-in late in Wednesday’s Game 3 of the NBA Finals.
I neither hooted nor did I holler. I live in an apartment building and I have neighbors.
But as Toppin dropped from the rim, his dunk having pushed the Pacers’ lead to seven points with 4:23 left, I did emit a laugh so high-pitched it could only be described as a cackle: the kind of thing you’d hear from a witch or the furry little rodent that sat on Jabba The Hutt’s lap in “Return of the Jedi.”
I was … giddy, a feeling I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced while watching sports. I’ve been so happy that I’ve hugged strangers (2024 Sugar Bowl, UW vs. Texas). I’ve been so angry I couldn’t speak (UW loss to Oregon, 2021). Two years ago, when Washington beat Oregon at Husky Stadium, a guy puked on my shoes, and I was so elated by the Huskies’ victory that I wasn’t even mad.
But nothing has generated as much sheer unadulterated glee for me as watching the Oklahoma City Thunder lose, which is exactly what happened on Wednesday. The Thunder led by as many as nine points in the first half, and they were up five entering the fourth quarter, only to watch the Pacers pull away in the final 7 minutes of the game, winning 116-107.
This being the sports section, I probably should probably give you some facts. Bennedict Mathurin, a third-year guard from Arizona, scored 27 off the bench to lead Indiana, while Haliburton went for 22 and Pascal Siakam scored 21. Oklahoma City had three players score 20 or more, too: Shai Gilgeous-Alexander (24), Jalen Williams (26) and Chet Holmgren (20). The difference was depth. The Pacers’ bench scored 49 points, the Thunder’s 18.
The truth is, I don’t care all that much about how it happened so long as the Thunder lost. You see, being a hater is a bottom-line business. I’ve also discovered that it’s a thoroughly enjoyable way to watch a sport. You don’t have to wait until Seattle is awarded an NBA expansion franchise to have a rooting interest. We can all join hands together and hope that the team that was stolen from us fails to win a championship for the 17th consecutive season.
I know, it sounds kind of petty and immature. That’s because it is petty and immature, and you can sit with the grown-ups if you want, but I’m having a hell of a time down here on the low road, thinking about just how devastating it would be for the Thunder to lose to the Pacers, who were 5-to-1 underdogs when the series began.
He-he-he. I just cackled again.
Don’t worry, I know better than to make any premature proclamations. We’ve still got a long way to go. The Thunder trailed the Denver Nuggets 2-1 in the Western Conference semifinals only to come back and win the series in a seventh game.
As an experienced hater, trust me when I say you’ve got to keep an even keel about these things. You can’t get too high when the team you loathe loses, just like you can’t let yourself get too low when they win.
You also need some stamina. When you’re cheering for a team, momentum builds over the course of a playoff run. People around you are getting excited, too. When you’re rooting against one, though, it takes effort and a laser focus not to get discouraged as you watch a team like the Thunder keep clearing hurdles. A cake walk over Memphis in the first round. A seven-game nail-biter against Denver, and then a Minnesota team that absolutely mailed in the fifth and final game of the conference finals.
At some point, you might even find yourself conceding that it is possible, perhaps even likely, that the one team you absolutely do not want to win the sport’s top prize may do just that.
And it is in those moments, when doubt starts to creep in, I like to remind myself just what I’m in this for: misery. More specifically: Oklahoma City’s misery, and the closer the Thunder get to a championship, the more misery a loss is going to induce.
Someone with more going for them and less resentment might decide that investing this much energy in a certain team NOT winning might not be healthy. I have a word for these sorts of people: amateurs.
You don’t spend this much time hating this one team without going through a few gut checks that really show what you’re made of, and my loathing of the Thunder is built to last.
In fact, I can think of only one thing that might dilute my venom: If Seattle were to be awarded an expansion franchise, and if this expansion franchise were to be named the Sonics, and if the Sonics were to win their second NBA championship before the Thunder were to win their city’s first, then I might dial back my animosity.
But probably not. It’s too much fun hating the Thunder. I’d better stop now before I start cackling again.
Danny O’Neil was born in Oregon, the son of a logger, but had the good sense to attend college in Washington. He’s covered Seattle sports for 20 years, writing for two newspapers, one glossy magazine and hosting a daily radio show for eight years on KIRO 710 AM. You can subscribe to his free newsletter and find his other work at dannyoneil.com.
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