The Tale of a Recovering Miami Heat Fan
Miami itself is a very fickle sports town. There is always so much going on around town, that sporting events sometimes fall by the wayside or are used as more of a who can be seen in the hottest fashions, rather than legitimate fandom.
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I was born in Miami in the early 1970’s. My parents had moved to the thriving, young city in the mid-1960’s from the Northeast in search of a newer, warmer climate to start my father’s medical practice.
Just a decade prior, my father had experienced his own sports Cinderella story. He was a member of the Lebanon Valley College Flying Dutchman basketball team, history makers in 1953. Lebanon Valley is a small school nestled in the heart of Pennsylvania Amish country, a relatively unknown in the world of college athletics. His team, nicknamed the “Seven Dwarfs” due to the lack of height in normal basketball terms, defied the odds and made it to the Sweet 16 of what is now the NCAA tournament. Eventually I will get around to devoting an entire article to my father and his amazing teammates, but for right now this information is just to gather an idea of my basketball roots.
For the majority of my childhood, we watched and cheered for the Philadelphia 76ers since that is where my father grew up and South Florida lacked a professional basketball team. The only sport in town was the Miami Dolphins and we were diehard fans.
Miami was finally granted an NBA franchise by the time I got to high school. The city was super excited; well, as much as a city that is more about being seen than actually caring about the event can be. My father and his buddies jumped at the chance for season tickets and they got a block of about 12 seats all together, in a great lower level location.
My sister had already left for college and my mother could care less about basketball, or any sport for that matter. So, it was my father and I, heading downtown for almost every home game at Miami Arena. That opening season was exhilarating, finally having a local team to root for and call our own. The smell of those cinnamon almonds still takes me right back to those days, Rony Seikaly and Glen Rice the ambassadors for our very own Miami Heat.
Miami itself is a very fickle sports town. There is always so much going on around town, that sporting events sometimes fall by the wayside or are used as more of a who can be seen in the hottest fashions, rather than legitimate fandom.
I, however, never really fitting in with culture in Miami, fell in love with the Heat and live NBA basketball those first few seasons. I was a real Heat fan and loved heading to the night games after school and on weekends. When I left for college I hung a signed Glen Rice poster in my dorm room, and yes my new random roommate thought I was nuts.
When I graduated from the University of Georgia, I was fortunate enough to land a job with the Atlanta Hawks. I was torn about where my allegiances were supposed to lie, and still quietly rooted for my Miami Heat, even when they played the Hawks.
The whole image of the city of Miami had changed tremendously throughout my childhood now was an entirely different place. South Beach did not even exist in its current state when I lived there. Unfortunately for me, the image of the Heat morphed along with its city.
Miami’s team became glitzy, snobby and elitist. I am sure my family and childhood friends will disagree but compared to other gritty, hard working cities, I just couldn’t look at the Miami Heat the same anymore.
After living in Colorado for over 15 years now, the part of me that loved and rooted for the Heat for so long is basically just a memory. The Nuggets slowly won me over and any love for the Heat really turned into a dull simmer. When Lebron James and Chris Bosh signed with the Heat, creating the “Headles”, it was the nail in the coffin for me. I could no longer cheer for and spend any energy towards the spectacle that had become the Miami Heat.
I know that it seems odd that I would just abandon my favorite team when they skyrocketed to an elite level, but I did. It just isn’t me.
The Denver Nuggets are me; a hard working, non-ego team that gets down to business when necessary without the fan fashion show and ridiculous circus.
