Changing Table Analysis

My two year old son, Zane, looked at me quizzically this morning as he lay on his changing table. Actually, it was somewhere between a look of confusion and distress. He slept well, had a full belly, and hadn’t hurt himself. My internal inquiry into what could be wrong with him was stopped short by the sound of his sweet voice.

“Dad? Are you worried that the current trend of superstar NBA players teaming up will have a detrimental effect on the league’s balance leading to an overall decline in popularity for the sport and, in an extreme case, tarnishing the legacy of one of its all time greats as well as placing a proverbial asterisk next to the accomplishments of those that team up?”

Before I could gather my thoughts I noticed that he was still talking.

“…and, dad, I’m not some unsophisticated rube that would call this player collusion. They have no market power and, in fact, are in a labor market that restricts their movement. They should be free to maximize their value and expected output over their careers. And, look, all these guys are friends at the end of the day — even Draymond and LeBron are. Wouldn’t you be upset if you were prevented from working with your friends? Still though, I worry that if the rich get richer will we be left without an NBA middle class, mirroring the state of affairs in the modern day American economy?”

I muttered something about there being glory in being an 8 seed and not tanking. He sat up on his changing table — luckily, I had just gotten the clean diaper on — with a glint in his eye.

“But let’s get down to brass tacks. How can anyone defeat the Warriors? I fear that Kevin Love is a tragic figure, a player left behind by the changing tides of the league. Maybe if Carmelo can regain the vim and vigor that sweeps him up while playing Olympic basketball…maybe that could be enough. A change of scenery would do him good. After all, Knicks fans only seem to feed on misery and despair as if it is essential to their survival and identity.”

He had built up a head of steam. From our past discussions on the internet gutting the cable industry and white female pop artists appropriating and summarily discarding black culture, I know that when Zane gets in these moods, there’s no stopping him.

“The bottom line is that we all want to witness greatness. And that’s what we’re getting. Sure fans think they want competition, but they’ll fall in line eventually. Either the Warriors continuous success will wear them down into awestruck appreciation or LeBron (lol at anyone else doing it) will break through against them and captivate the world. It’s a compelling narrative either way.”

I just nodded.

“Ok, gather your thoughts and let’s talk about this later. Right now, what I need you to do is go to the kitchen and pour me a glass of milk. Cold milk. Whole, not 2%. Put it in the purple cup with the orange lid. Put it on the counter. Do not hand it to me. If you hand it to me I will run headfirst into the refrigerator. And, I swear that if you put it in the purple cup with the purple lid I will make you pay. I will throw it on the ground. I will stomp my feet. And I will scream loud enough to wake my baby sister. After all, it is 5:20 in the morning and we’ve already been awake for an hour.”