"...if you believe yourself worth of the thing you fought so hard to get, then you become an instrument of God, you help the Soul of the World, and you understand why you are here."
--Paulo Coehlo, The Alchemist
With any creative performance, there is a motivation to achieve "perfection" but at the same time, the knowledge that perfection isn't possible. And to any performer, or player, the question is, what to do about this?
There are three (and maybe more) things one can do about it:
1. Embrace humanity's imperfection.
The Chicago Bulls exemplify this concept. It's almost like they enjoy bad luck. The Bulls want the most difficult challenge, truly. They play a very physical defensive style that seams to lack any beauty at all and even seems hell bent on destroying it.
The Bulls, however, are not the enemy of beauty or the Soul of the Game. To disrupt something so well, one must understand the thing he wishes to disrupt. The Bulls know the language of the Game and simply play to their strengths which, in its ugliness, is somewhat beautiful.
2. Ignore it.
...Or be oblivious to it.
This is what most teams do, really. Most teams are too lacking in skill and talent that there is not enough cohesion to even get to the point where the abstract concept of perfection is relevant. But we're concerned with the playoffs here.
The best examples of this are the two New York teams; the Knicks and Nets. Both teams are hard to watch, most of all the Nets. The Nets have talent, but they don't reach for anything above themselves. The Nets lost four games out of seven, and a game seven at home, to a much less talented and a much more hobbled team in the Bulls. The Knicks, too, underachieved against a team that had no business being any trouble.
So what are these teams playing for? Why do they even bother being on the court?
The truth is, I don't know. The Nets were heavily favored in game seven and, to me, it looked like their motivation was to avoid embarrassment.
Often it can seem that the teams who "know" that they won't win the title have much lower motivation than a team that feels it could. While this might be no surprise, a Championship is still a motivation that stems from outside approval. Being a "champion" is just a word. It's a strong word and is used by enough people that it has become very important in the sports narrative, but it's still just vindication which, for a true artist, shouldn't be necessary.
3. Reach out for perfection.
The only player I've really seen even attempt this is Stephen Curry.
Drawing fouls, these days, is considered a legitimate strategy. Despite the threat of fines by the league, flopping is rampant and it works. Everybody knows that the referees ruin the game.
Stephen Curry lives above of these flaws of the game. He's the best shooter the league has ever seen which opens the floor for his incredible passing which is accentuated by his flawless ball handling. Curry has touched perfection for short stretches in these playoffs and it's made them beautiful to watch.
The biggest, strongest and most famous will probably win the Championship this season, but who really cares? The ones who don't watch the games, or do, will act like they care, and use the results of these playoffs as arguments in favor of the player of their choosing, but these people don't care. The labels and accolades laid upon teams and players by the public sports narrative are really irrelevant.
The Soul of the Game is what matters.
