On a scale of one to basketball: NBA theme nights

It is late August. The NBA continues to hibernate because apparently it’s an animal that lives in one of the colder areas of the southern hemisphere. The WNBA playoffs are kicking off hard, but I feel unqualified to talk about them in detail because I am. I’d like to make a few statements in particular though:

• Diana Taurasi is god.
• Liz Cambage is my new favorite.
• Lindsay Whalen is now retired. She scared me as a player, but now that I know she has more free time, I’m more scared.
• I don’t understand what those things are in the Cricket Wireless commercials, but I find them annoying, and they make me not want to use their product.
• Diana Taurasi is still god.
• Courtney Williams can be god sometimes too.

I hope to write about the WNBA in depth in the coming weeks, but those weeks aren’t here yet. I’m still in the NBA world right now.

Unfortunately, the NBA world is currently dull. It has been for a while. I was hoping the Brave Little Toaster article would be enough of a plea to the universe for something cool to happen, but the universe can be an a**, and look where we are now.

I’ve reached a new level of desperation looking for something to be excited about. Did you know that Jerry Stackhouse is the only person in NBA history to finish a year with 666 free throws made? Do you feel better off for knowing that? These are questions that only come up when you have absolutely nothing else to talk about.

Luckily, there’s an editor and excellent human person named Ian Levy in my life. He asked if I’ve thought about theme nights. I hadn’t. I hadn’t really intended to. Then I looked at what the Detroit Pistons had on offer for this coming season:

Now look at what one pixel of white space can do.

While I would not recommend that particular night, it did make me think we need more ridiculous theme nights in our lives. As a ridiculous person, I’ve decided I’d be extremely helpful in thinking some up.

Apropos of nothing, here is a picture of an Alolan Raichu playing basketball.

Good job, little buddy. Anyway:

Multiverse Night

You know how sometimes the world as it is isn’t the way you want it to be and you think “if only this one little thing had gone differently, everything would have changed?” Maybe you don’t, because you don’t live in the past, but you could! Wouldn’t that be fun?

This night would be about celebrating the fictional possibilities of your team. What if the Pistons had drafted Carmelo instead of Darko Milicic? What if Brooklyn hadn’t traded 20 percent of the entire world’s future for KG and Paul Pierce? Or what if all basketball players were bears coached by Blink 182 bassist Mark Hoppus?

On Multiverse Night, every one of these possibilities will be treated as legitimate. Come out, tell your story, and live out your mind’s basketball fantasies with other similarly delusional people. What if Joe Dumars had three phones? Let’s find out.

Breakfast Cereal Night

All concessions will be replaced with breakfast cereal. You want nachos? Too bad. Have some cornflakes, idiot.

This could maybe be linked with an appearance of Tony the Tiger, or other interesting cereal mascots like the one bird or that rabbit, but mostly I think it’d be really funny seeing everyone eating cereal at a basketball game.

Like, the camera pans to through the crowd, and there are people with spoons and Raisin Bran in 2% milk with the bowl to their face, but then they see they’re on camera, so they try to celebrate, but they don’t want to spill milk all over their Devin Booker shirsey, so all they can really do is wave a spoon around like they’re blessing a dairy-worshipping congregation with an aspergillum.

Plus I like crunchberries.

Existential Crisis Night

Eventually we all come to a point where we start questioning ourselves, and life, and the universe. Maybe it’ll be after a near death experience, or when a longtime significant other breaks up with us, or when Big Bang Theory is renewed for another season. It’s going to happen, and it’s going to suck.

So why not coordinate this inevitable emotional black hole with other people and have it at a basketball game? It’s a nice distraction between sobs, and maybe you can find a shoulder to cry on. Plus, if everyone else is freaking out, there’s going to be a lot less attention on you, so you can really let loose.

I imagine this would be an extremely healthy experience for some, and a really bad one for most other people. As such, it is a good idea.

Pocket Hedgehog Night

This needs to be celebrated and replicated:

POCKET. HEDGEHOG.

Look at that little guy. He’s probably having the time of his life. Or he’s terrified. Sometimes that’s the same thing.

People wouldn’t necessarily have to bring hedgehogs, but the name of the night should honor the original. I think anything up to ferret size should be allowed in the arena. No birds though. Birds are evil.

Cheese Night

No detailed explanation needed. Just some cheese. This night probably already happens in Milwaukee, but most things that happen in Milwaukee don’t really matter much to the outside world. Apparently aviation was invented there somewhere in the 1870s, but people would have had to go to Milwaukee to verify it, and no one wanted to bother.

I debated whether this should include things that are cheese-centric (like cheese pizza, charcuterie plates, or grilled cheeses) but I decided that’s a needless complication. What I think would be more fun would be like carving stations with massive cheese wheels. No plates or utensils needed. You get a hunk of cheese when you enter the arena, and you just eat it our of your hand like an apple.

If this goes well, we can start branching out into fondue or raclette grills, but for now let’s keep it basic. Cheese is never wrong, but cheese presentation can be.

Weezer But Only the First Couple Albums Night

Once “Island in the Sun” happened, it wasn’t the same. “Beverly Hills” is maybe the worst song ever written outside of “If I Had a Million Dollars” by the Barenaked Ladies.

Tweet Angrily at Corporate Accounts Night

The NBA loves social media, and Tinder Night was a huge success, probably, so we know the league is fine with a bit of collaboration with other brands. Everyone wins.

On the other hand (but in this case the hands are touching, possibly clasped) people love using social media to complain. One time I told the Arby’s Twitter account that my cat wouldn’t stop scratching my bike tires. They didn’t say anything in response, so I haven’t eaten there since.

What we need is a hivemind of petty rage. We don’t have enough of that these days. Let’s get a few thousand people in some seats to ignore basketball and blame a PR intern for all of their own ills. Did you take a flight a few years ago that was slightly too turbulent? Let ‘em know. You’re getting permission to be the worst version of yourself in a public setting. These chances don’t come often.

Confess Something Upsetting to Your Significant Other Day

Players love it when the crowd is loud, and I can’t think of a better way to get a place screaming than having a bunch of couples having fights.

The thing is, the loudness will be self-sustaining. Once you start screaming, someone else is going to have to scream louder to be heard. And then someone else will have to one-up that. And so on. It’s just going to keep building until lungs give out or the game is over.

Couples will be expected to make up by the end of the night, however. This isn’t meant to be damaging to the relationship, but it should be a little dramatic.

IKEA Furniture Building Night

I think I’m maybe the only person in the world who enjoys building IKEA furniture. Everyone considers it a strange and irritating chore. So it gets put off. “We don’t need that side table today, do we, honey?” Of course the answer is “no,” but once that “no” happens for the 25th time, it becomes a bit much.

Well no more excuses, Trent. You’re coming to the basketball, and you’re finishing what you started. Your house has a bare spot, and I’m tired of you sitting on your ass eating pork rinds. This isn’t what I thought I was marrying into. You’re lazy, you’re selfish, and my mom was right about you.