Vegas, baby

Thoughts on a full year of co-hosting Oddball

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I am writing to you from Las Vegas, where I have somehow managed to spend months of my life over the past ten years. I had never been here before I started working in sports, and I was fine with the idea that I would never go. But multiple events have kept calling me back to this alien playground of a place, and I have answered. Probably because I’ve come to love it here in some perverse way.

More specifically, I love that Vegas is one of the most honestly dishonest places that has ever existed. The city doesn’t try to hide what it is. In fact, it lays bare its organs across the desert. It splays neon lights, reflective metal, asphalt, and flashing signs for GIRLS and GUNS and GAMBLING across a tan expanse surrounded by a ring of reddish-purple mountains. My favorite thing to do when I’m out here is drive to the edge of the city and then keep going, into to the open expanse of land that rolls out like a carpet until it hits the foothills.

The landscape is honest, but the dishonesty comes from the promise that pervades The Strip — that you can be somebody else here, if only for a weekend. That you can leave rich. That this place is here for you instead of the other way around; its very existence is a lie. As I write this, it’s 110 degrees outside, and there is no water. Without air conditioning and a man-made reservoir, I would die.

But somehow, I’m alive for NBA Summer League. Summer League is the annual (you guessed it) summer gathering of the NBA world where rookies and guys fighting a roster spot have the opportunity to show teams what they’re capable of (or get a deal overseas). There are games, but the stars mostly don’t appear — it’s a chance for teams to test different players and plays.

It is mostly, however, a chance for people from the NBA world to gather, catch up, and spot very tall people at that circular bar inside the Wynn.

Summer League is also the place where, exactly a year ago, we officially launched Oddball, this strange basketball show of ours that I have come to love. And, for the past year, we have recorded a show almost every day (except Mondays).

It was a real leap of faith to launch the way we did. My co-host Amin Elhassan and I had never worked together, I had never hosted a daily NBA program, and we didn’t really know what the format would be. But Meadowlark saw something here that could work, and we lucked out. Over the past twelve months Amin and I have become good friends (don’t tell him that, though) and built this show into something we’re proud of. Amin has taught me so much about the game of basketball — more importantly, he’s showed me how to really love this league and respect its history.

We couldn’t do it, of course, without everybody at Meadowlark and DraftKings and our very impressive production team. They have shaped the show and helped us make it smarter, funnier, and sharper. It’s rare to find such pros who also happen to be absolutely delightful to be around. Every time I call into our production meeting before we tape, I’m reminded what a privilege it is to work with people who make me better at what I do.

Like Vegas, I’ve gotta be honest — I was nervous to chronicle the ins and outs of the league every day (except Mondays) when we started this thing. I had a solid level of knowledge about the NBA as a general sports reporter/talker, but over the past twelve months I feel like I got my Masters of Basketball. There’s a big difference between following a league and following a league. When I walked onto set today and realized how confidently I now trust my own opinions about the NBA, it really hit home just how much work and time we’ve put into Oddball.

A whole year ago!!!!!

Because a show like ours is basically a Tamagotchi. You have to feed the digital pet every day (except Mondays) or it dies. In order to make something worth watching, everyone has to have an enormous amount of faith in each other, both in front of and behind the camera. It’s like one of those circles where people hold hands and then lean back — if one person loosens their grip, everybody else falls down.

That kind of accountability was daunting at first, but I’ve come to love it. Doing this has been a real lesson in Showing Up. I’ve tried to carry that with me into the rest of my life — I like to think that talking about basketball every day (except Mondays) might have made me a better person. Perhaps that’s a stretch, but what if it’s true?

So I guess I could go on to tell you about Summer League. About how Bronny James hasn’t played well, about how Reed Shepphard has, about how Jaylen Brown was sitting court-side and I missed the chance to interview him.

Or you could just watch our show from today with the great Rachel Nichols! Because at the end of the day, all of the basketball talk is the icing on the cake. The cake is catching up with other people in the NBA world without the crunch of the season; without the hopes and dreams of franchises in the act of coming true or being crushed. Everything is still possible come the fall.

And, as I sit here in my hotel room and stare out at the city below me, it strikes me that Vegas (despite being a millionty-seven degrees in July) is actually the perfect place for Summer League. There’s the logistical ease of having a lot of hotels and restaurants, of course. But on a spiritual level, Summer League doesn’t hide what it is. Like Vegas, it can also sell dreams that might not pan out. Sure, careers can take off here in the desert, but guys also get cut and teams move on.

And you know what? Oddball doesn’t hide, either. I’m proud to say that we never try to be something we aren’t, even when that means becoming doctors to “diagnose” teams’ problems at the trade deadline. Or going to a psychic for pre-season predictions. Or doing an entire show with a really sassy robot named Al who is actually just saying lines our producers feed him. Or putting out a campaign to stop Viral Decontextualization.

Anyway, you get it. Thank you to everyone who has watched, listened, and followed along every day (except Mondays) (and maybe a slightly different schedule in the off-season, but it doesn’t fit with the bit, so pretend I didn’t say that).

We’ll do our best to keep the oddities coming.