Up to 82 times between October and April, I’m faced with this question: Should I get up in the middle of the night, or should I watch it in the morning? In the first couple of weeks of each NBA season, I’m motivated to sacrifice two and a half hours of sleep as my beloved San Antonio Spurs play across the Atlantic. But soon it slips. It always does.
Last night at half-time, I reached an early breaking point: I got up at midnight – and I went back to bed 65 minutes later. I had seen enough of a team not named Spurs that couldn’t miss any shots.