I don't believe in basketball gods. So I don't mind telling them to go to hell.
Oh, it hurts. The chance to be in the middle but be rewarded like the worst. The chance to scare some real contenders in the playoffs. The chance to build some momentum in the city. The chance to tell people to watch a Hawks game without the least bit of self righteous "I don't care if you hate it" attitude. The chance to watch good basketball with good players that work hard.
The basketball gods think they took that from us.
The basketball gods didn't take shit.
Because we have hope.
For most of my Hawks fandom, I have had to bow down to them. Everything had to go right. No trip to the lottery could be wasted. No tweet could anger them. No show boat from a player could stir them to war. The Hawks needed the basketball gods because they had nothing else. You always worship luck when you can't trust anything else.
Now we have Ferry. Now we have Coach Bud. Now we have hope. Oh sure, I'll need liquor tonight. I will get mad at my wife when she doesn't understand why I am upset about a guy named Al Horford who she is already doesn't like because I wear his jersey too much. I will rage every once in while when a national writer casts off the Hawks this season like we didn't have a chance to do something. I will remember often how the basketball gods tried to make me bow down. But I won't break.
These days, I give the middle finger to the basketball gods. These days, I worship Atlanta Hawks basketball.