Top 10 Reasons it’s a good thing I watch the Denver Nuggets from home:

10) My wife has given me soft objects to throw so no one is injured. One of them may or may not be a Rocky doll.

9) No one moves away from my seats/section. (see below)

8) The beer is cheap, the bathroom is clean, and no one is peeing in the sink. That I know of.

7) I have ample opportunity to practice the diction in my curse words.

6) Only my spouse and closest neighbors worry if I’ll be ok.

5) I can rewind like the Zapruder tape to diagram exactly how wrong the referees were.

4) No long awkward drive home after I’ve embarrassed myself again.

3) I make way better nachos.

2) Pants. Optional.

1) There is zero chance any of the team or staff can hear a word I’m saying when they have had a tough moment or seven.


Tuesday night, a few minutes into the fourth quarter, my upstairs neighbor texted me these words:

“… sorry to ask, but… are you ok down there?”

Apparently she thought I was rehearsing for a new play as a Tourette’s patient, as blue as the stream coming out of my mouth had been for nearly a half an hour. When I stopped laughing at myself, I found a moment to apologize profusely and reassure her I was simply a dumbass and a lout, not in the midst of trying to blister my own tongue. I was grateful she was one of two people who’d even heard me.

The second Nuggets game I ever got to attend in person was in my early 20’s, as part of a group singing the National Anthem before the game. The few bucks I received was fine, but I was more excited about the free game tickets in the lower bowl. My buddies and I took our seats, but only two of us were basketball fans. By the second half, it was just the two of us in our party, and I noticed by the fourth quarter most of our section had gone home in a fairly close contest. I was surprised.

Until I saw someone who had been sitting four rows below us come back with his nachos (which are still not as good as mine) and wander to his family now sitting in the next section over. Upon further inspection, it became readily apparent that more than a few parties had not left, but moved. Apparently they didn't care for the two braying jackasses sitting behind them questioning the abilities and intellect of the officials repeatedly in exceptionally colorful terms. Who could blame them.

Though I’ve toned it down a ton at the stadium, I still let it rip a little too often at home. It was a wake-up call on Tuesday to remember that there’s almost always someone within earshot, and that my blood pressure might do well with a little more measured response.

From someone who has lost his voice watching Nuggets games more often than he can count, in fits of joy and also rage… 21 games left to go, my friends. Pace yourselves, so you actually see how the Nuggets make it to the end. At least this isn't you… is it?

***for perfect clarity, the author lives in Los Angeles, and therefore has to watch the games from home. Get your butts to the Pepsi Center, Nuggets fans!

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