Field Trip: Please move the Nets immediately

EAST RUTHERFORD, N.J. — On Tuesday, a friend offered me tickets to the Nets-Spurs game–third row, close to center court. A chance to see Duncan, Manu and Parker play up close? A no-brainer.

Now, let me preface what I’m about to write by saying I lived in New Jersey for two years after college and have a fondness for the place. But it must be said: Getting from New York City to the Meadowlands is a miserable, awful experience, and the Nets will continue to be irrelevant in New York until they realize it’s not a good idea to make it so hard for people from your biggest market to, you know, attend a game.

Save all the money you want: LeBron ain’t comin’ if you still play in the boonies.

Yes, Bonner now yuks it up at the end of blowouts.

It wasn’t always like this. In 2003, the last time I went to a Nets game, here’s how I got from the Upper West Side to the Meadowlands: I took the subway to Port Authority and hopped on a bus to the Meadowlands. The whole thing took half an hour. On Tuesday morning, I checked to see if the same bus was still running, and sure enough, the Nets home page and NBA.com both suggest the Port Authority bus as the best means to get to the game.

But guess what? The bus doesn’t exist anymore. Know how you get to the Meadowlands now? You take a New Jersey Transit train to Secaucus, N.J., and transfer there to a bus to the stadium. This is a real transfer, too. You have to walk across a fairly large train station to find the bus, and there’s no guarantee it’s going to be waiting for you.

I’m sorry, but how am I supposed to take the Nets seriously as a franchise if this is the only way to get from New York City to the Meadowlands via public transportation? It’s as if the team, the league and NJ Transit have all conspired to make getting to a game so difficult that Brooklyn residents will finally give up and let the Nets built their new stadium there–or non-Brooklynites will all scream at them until they do.

Ah, but the fun is not over. Once you get to the stadium, you enter through doors, half of which are marked with a sign that says “female entry” next to a stick figure of a woman like the one you’d normally see on a bathroom door. Women and men, it turns out, enter the stadium in different single file lines. This is because women are allowed to take their bags inside the stadium after a brief inspection, while men have to exit the stadium, walk about 200 yards to a different gate and check their bags with a security guard. The guard sifts through your bag and fastens a green band around the handle. You are then free to watch a basketball game.

I ask the readers: how many different NBA stadiums do this? In the past two seasons, I’ve been to games at four stadiums (Boston, NJ, Madision Square Garden and the Air Canada Centre), and only in New Jersey do men have to go through a separate bag-checking process.

Needless to say, I finally got to my seat about five minutes into the game. But, wow, was it worth it. Watching an NBA game up close is a completely different experience, and one I’ve only had a couple of times before. In some ways, it’s actually harder to see what’s happening–the floor is so crowded and the bodies are moving so quickly that you miss the macro view of the game you get on TV. On the other hand, you get to listen to the players talk to each other, complain to the referees, call plays and interact with coaches. After the jump, a few observations with some visual aids.

We have nothing to discuss with the players

• The difference in coaching styles tells you everything you need to know about these teams. Pop sits for long portions of the game, while Lawrence Frank is always up, yelling and pointing in various directions. There were a couple of timeouts (called by Frank) where Pop spent the whole time chatting with the coaches, leaving the players alone. Pop got agitated just once during the game–when Parker missed a rotation and left a shooter (Jarvis Hayes) open in the corner for a three. Pop immediately called timeout and screamed at Parker. Tony shouted back, and the two argued briefly about defensive strategy. The great Spurs blog 48 Minutes of Hell has written often about how hard Pop has been on the Spurs defense this season. This was a great example. Pop has rigorous standards for his team, but he’s not constantly over-bearing about it; he’s a very selective screamer.

• It’s almost uncomfortable to watch one NBA team so easily beat another. The Nets worked hard for every score. Vince was sprinting around screens, desperate to find any space, and he and Harris dribbled around the perimeter, searching for any creases in the defense. The Spurs got open jump shots whenever they wanted. Duncan had eight assists and easily found shooters all over the court. So did Parker. This is how Matt Bonner had 22 points on 8-of-10 shooting. They didn’t have to make a tough shot all night.

• One beautiful sequence between teammates who have played together a long time: Manu Ginobli pulled down a rebound late in the first quarter, and Parker called for the ball near the sideline just short of midcourt. Normally, you’d push the ball to your point guard here. But Ginobli waved him off and yelled something that sounded like the word “weak” to me (as in “weak side”). Whatever it was, Parker knew what it meant. He walked past the midcourt line and finally received a pass from Ginobli near the three-point line. Manu jogged over halfcourt and suddenly accelerated right down the gut; Parker knew what was coming and whipped the ball to Ginobli, who caught it, took two big steps and laid it in off the glass. The whole thing took three seconds. Gorgeous communication.

• Vince Carter whined to the officials all night. Dick Bavetta hit him with a technical in the second quarter when Vince carried the argument over a non-call all the way into a timeout. He was literally the only player left on the court when Bavetta finally pulled the trigger. The TV broadcast may have already cut to commercial. The Spurs, despite their reputation, barely complained at all aside from one drive on which Parker claimed someone hit him in the head. They were in cruise control all night.

Good rook. Scary up close.

• Brook Lopez is a keeper. He’s got a sweet 15- to 18-foot jumper, and he tries really, really hard. He pouts and angrily pumps his fist when he messes up. He really is an overgrown child, in the best sense of the phrase.

• Watching Duncan live, you get an even bigger appreciation for how dominant a player he is. Lopez and Josh Boone couldn’t stop him from getting position wherever he wanted in the post. His decision-making is quicker and his passes are crisper than they look on television. (While we’re on the subject of Duncan, I have to share a story my friend told me at the game about why she has a soft spot for Timmy even though she’s not a huge hoops fan. Her first serious boyfriend was named Duncan, and the morning after she lost her virginity to him, she woke up to find a sports magazine–she’s not 100 percent sure which one –in his room. Timmy was on the cover flanked by the words, “Duncan Scores!” He sure did).

Tim, you are on the other team

• One final note about Duncan: He seems like a fun guy. He was joking with guys all night, but never in that exaggerated, broad-grinning, knee-slapping way some guys “joke” in order to appear funny and/or normal. He and Boone were standing next to each other on the block during a free throw, and Boone suddenly burst out laughing at something Duncan had said. Timmy just stood there, silently grinning. They exchanged some friendly words on the way back up the court. He also randomly took some warm-up jumpers before the second half with the Nets instead of his own team. No one seemed to mind.

• The Nets mascot is a fox called “Sly Fox.” It’s a stupid mascot. Perfect for the Nets.

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