What A Ride It's Been

Reminiscing upon a memorable 2008-09 season

Jason Friedman
Rockets.com Staff Writer

Houston - Perhaps it’s the suddenness that stings the most.

Like a kid at a carnival, fresh-faced, innocent and a bit in awe, you hopped on the ride fearful of the unknown yet filled with great expectations. The start was scary, yes, but after a few spine-tingling ups and downs, you finally settled in and began to bask in the ride’s rhythm, its ebb and flow specifically designed to test, tease and tantalize the senses. Then, just when it seemed to be reaching a crescendo, and you were having so much fun you wished this would last forever - everything stopped. The ride was over. And you had no choice but to get off, stand in line and wait your turn again.

I found myself contemplating that sensation as the final seconds ticked away on my initial season covering the Rockets as a part, however small, of the team itself. During the weeks leading up to that moment, I occasionally caught myself wondering what it would feel like when everything came to a close. Would there be pain, disappointment and an urge to pick up the pieces and start over again tomorrow? Yes, yes and yes.

But when the final horn sounded there was something else, too; something I couldn’t quite put my finger on until I crossed paths with one of the Rockets’ assistant coaches later on that evening. His face carried with it the expression of one having just been put through an emotional wringer. He clearly was exhausted, yet he wore his exhaustion like a badge of honor, as if it had been well-earned - which, of course, it was. I asked how he was holding up. “It’s strange,” he said with a sad smile and far-off look in his eye, “How everything just comes to a screeching halt.”

And that’s when it hit me – the finality of it all. You live and die with this team on a daily basis for nearly eight months. You willingly endure the sleepless nights fueled by nothing but adrenaline and caffeine. Fan, coach, player or staff, you do everything possible to help the franchise flourish and succeed – and then, just like that, it’s over. The effect can be jarring, creating the sort of emotional whiplash from which you need a few days (at least) to recover. It hurts. A lot.

Then the memories start crashing in, wave upon wave, until finally your cranium is flooded with images which somehow manage to both heighten and numb the pain all at once. The stunning win in Boston. The passion of Ron Artest. Yao’s perfect night. The pure joy expressed within every single Carl Landry dunk. Shane Battier’s unflappable cool. The happy, childlike skip down the court of an on-fire Aaron Brooks. Luis Scola’s low-post ballet. Game 6 (both versions). Redemption. Resilience. Team.

It’s a rare thing to see a club come together and begin to tap into its full potential the way this one did. Those moments when everything clicked and Rick Adelman stood as the master conductor orchestrating his grand, sweeping symphony produced sights and sounds which won’t soon be forgotten. Everyone knew their role and though not every note was pitch perfect, there was so much promise on display that you couldn’t help but think that perhaps one day very soon down the line they just might be.

It’s embedded in our DNA as Americans to crave nothing other than No. 1. Anything less is failure, we’re told. Yet the path to the top is not one to be navigated in a single all-encompassing stride. There are steps forward along the way and, yes, there are steps back, too. You don’t need me to tell you in which category this Rockets’ season belongs. And should that still strike you as trivial simply because it did not end with a downtown parade, I’d simply point you in the direction of the 1993 postseason which preceded Houston’s back-to-back championship years. That second round Game 7 loss to Seattle was heartbreaking on so many levels. But it also became an integral part of the foundation upon which Clutch City was laid.

The precedent, therefore, has already been set and it’s one mirrored in every other aspect of life as well; pleasure before pain, dusk before dawn, winter before spring. The muscle must first be broken down before it can re-build itself stronger and better than ever before. Everywhere you look, death and re-birth are present, serving as a reminder that growth and suffering are not only inseparable, but unavoidable as well.

All of which is my own rather convoluted way of figuring out that this season, this ride if you will, should be savored and not mourned. As Battier would say: “Trust the process.” There is no fast-forward button, so you might as well enjoy every step of the way. Besides, this is sport – it’s supposed to be fun; even the parts which leave you longing for more. And if all of this yearning and justifying seem a tad melodramatic because it’s rooted in nothing more than a team playing a child’s game, I seek pardon in the words of Nick Hornby, from his ode to fandom “Fever Pitch.”

"So please be tolerant of those who describe a sporting moment as their best ever. We do not lack imagination, nor have we had sad and barren lives; it is just that real life is paler, duller and contains less potential for unexpected delirium."

Yes, the ride is over. For now. But the beautiful thing is that there’s always another one just down the line. And so I’ll wait; patiently, reluctantly and eternally hopeful that the next ride, the next season, concludes not with suddenness, but with even more of that mind-bendingly wonderful unexpected delirium instead.

Got a question for Rockets.com? Send it to Jason Friedman. And for up to the second news and injury updates follow the Rockets and Jason on Twitter.