Basketball As Metaphor

I used to love basketball. I loved the teamwork, the passing, the strategy, the defense. I loved to see ball movement and movement without the ball. I loved the underdog and the way that basketball flowed. It was beautiful. It was art. When I was a kid, I used to play the game every chance I got. I would play for hours after school. Shooting. Running my drills. Practice, Practice, Practice until I made every shot. I constructed fantasies, where I was the hero off the bench in the state championship game. My injury riddled team needed me to rescue them as they played the Goliath of the state. They say that your dreams say a lot about who you are. Obviously.
Basketball was a vehicle for dreams for me at one time. But, now, it has become a sea of disappointment. I am specifically talking about the Pacers-Pistons fight of a couple of weeks ago, but even larger than that, the game as devolved into a selfish display of individualism. Poor shooting, no ball movement, no passing, little teamwork. It is all about the individual player and what they can do so they can be seen on ESPN.
In many ways, basketball was beautiful when it most closely resembled the rhythm of life that God has set out for us. Connect to your reason for living by loving the Creator. Love others. Put others before yourself. Join your life together with others in community around a cause (for Christians it is to reflect God's glory in the world). Be the least so that God can exalt you. Now that basketball so clearly looks like the rest of the fallen world instead of art, it is ugly, selfish, and pointless. So, I am hereby ceasing to be a basketball fan, until someone begins to play it the right way again. I long for beauty in God's creation. I look for art in life in unexpected places. I really miss a good jump shot off a perfectly executed pick and roll.