lakers vs. celtics = new sincerity vs. pomo

So here we are, on the eve of a Lakers vs. Celtics NBA Finals, the two perennial forces that dominated the NBA airwaves throughout the 80s, the decade where the seeds of hypercapitalism were ever sown into the fabric of the industrial culture that have held us captive since, where the postmodern strangle we know now began its matriculation toward the vulnerable necks of our collective esteem. This series between legendary foes more than just basketball or sports, it's the symbolic culmination of the cyclical nature of transition, the final confrontation between a fading regime desperately pulling out all stops in a last-ditch effort to sustain its subliminal hegemony and the new, the fledgling movement finally prepared to come-of-age to reconstruct all the wrongs that have been wrong for so long. This is oppression, the masked illusion of contrived, postmodernity vs. change, the sincere journey toward empathy, embodiment, and the greatest beauty of all, Truth. This is a battle between being prisoners and thieves of time, and being with, finding the space in time. This, right here, this moment, is real.

This is destiny manifest. In sports and marketing are the two most succinct, indicative signifiers of where the collective esteem is moving, where it yearns to be. And this, Lakers vs. Celtics, is the most prime example. In my initial conceptions of New Sincerity, now 3 years ago, two colors always encapsulated what I felt, the potential I saw could be fulfilled: yellow and purple. The year the Lakers pushed the Suns to the brink of elimination was the same year I stumbled onto New Sincerity, the same year I found my path to lead. The following season when the team rocketed off to a supreme regular season start only to fall into disarray just as rapid and magnificently, I knew they were the reflective vessel for the fragile journey of New Sincerity, for the mountainous struggles and growing pains that lie in store for a baby asked to become a man to fight a beast with nothing behind its eyes, a beast that ingrained itself in us while we were lost in its spectacular spellbind. This, a rival more pervasive and unyielding than ever before, lifestyle.

When the Lakers lapsed that season, I knew we weren't yet ready. Nor was I, younger, naive, more stubbornly and uncompromisingly ideal. But, now, I am. We are. The Lakers of the 80s were Showtime. They were fluid, exciting, offensive, penetrating, a spectacle to watch. Like their floor general, they were Magic. Jerry West grew the components from within the organization, drafted and gave them opportunity to maturate and develop (this when it was easier, before free agency and quick-fixes). His motif was to not assemble sheer individual talent, but to find complementation, to concentrate individual personalities and skills in the ultimate mosaic, team chemistry, collaborative brilliance. The Lakers were the emblem of Los Angeles. Its personalities were diverse, effervescent, like movie characters. Their style was pure entertainment, fast, persuading, showy, Hollywood. The Celtics contrasted absolutely. Also homegrown, but the C's stormed with vicious, gritty intent, aggressive defense triggered by fiercely unadulterated hustle plays. Comparatively to the Lakers, there figures were stoic, hardened ones that rarely smiled. The Lakers thrived on talent and flow. The Celtics thrived on effort and rupture.

So, tomorrow it consummates. In green, we have the Boston Celtics, the last remnants of postmodernity. We have an organization that exemplifying the postmodern symptom, mortgaged its future by quickly-fixing its team for immediate success. The future for the next 3 years max. We have a team built around superstars, a unit dependent on the individual talent of 3. We have a Celtics team again built around brute force, intimidation, arrogance, defense, postmodern fracture and rupture. A team, thus far in the playoffs, playing without sustainment, fiendish like patterns of instant-gratification, inconsistent. We have a Celtics team where Garnett, their leader, gets angrier when his team thrives.

In yellow and purple, the new sincerity of the Los Angeles Lakers. We have a team composed of young players given time to develop, to find understanding in each other and become a cohesive unit. A team that has found bond despite culture and language barriers. We have biracialism, bilingualism, true internalization. We have a leader in Kobe Bryant that has finally become the leader he always fell short of being. He has become the most beautiful kind of leader, one that trust his teammates, that understands when to be firm, when to be a consultive, when his team needs his talent to carry them. He's a leader that has a smile that sparkles with sincerity when his team thrives, when they live their potential. He was a boy that learned from his mistakes, from his stubbornness, from his mistrust to become a man. We have a team with a leader who understands everyone is needed, every individual strength pertinent, to be complete, to consummate this championship journey. Like the Lakers of old, they have the same stylistic strength, offense, fluidity, pure speed, athleticism and agility. But as they've shown this postseason, the possibilities are limitless for pure talent when defensive effort and grit are learned. Talent finding focus and effort, whew, now that's revelation. We have a team and a leader with common flaws, but together, collaboratively, they are flawless. We have a team in the thick of the most postmodern, contrived, hypercapitalistic city, and they've found sincerity. Is this a precursor, will the City of Angels finally transition from its factory of contrivance to true, angelic beauty? Will our existence finally transition from movie magic to embody and become magic ourselves? Are we ready to join Ronny in the dance, our dance?

I believe so.