Alright, so the Lakers vs Sixers game was on the other night. You know how it is, usually I’m just glued to the screen, yelling about bad calls or missed shots – standard fan procedure. But this time, I figured, let me try something a bit different. A little personal project, you could say, while watching the game unfold.
I decided I wasn’t just going to track the score or who made the highlight reel. Nah, my plan was to really zero in on player effort. Not the obvious stuff, but the grind. Who’s actually boxing out on every rebound? Who’s busting their butt to get back on defense, especially when they’re gassed? Who’s making that painful extra rotation? The kind of stuff that often gets missed if you’re just looking at the box score.
Setting Up My “Observation Post”
Sounds more official than it was. My “post” was just me on my trusty old couch, a half-used notebook, and a pen that I really hoped wouldn’t die on me mid-game. I kept telling myself: stay objective, don’t get sucked into the usual fan emotions. Easier said than done, especially when your team is doing… well, whatever they were doing.
- First off, I drew a line down a page: “Lakers Effort” on one side, “Sixers Effort” on the other. Real high-tech stuff, I know.
- Then, I started trying to scribble down player numbers next to quick notes. Things like “AD – solid contest, slow help D” or “Melton – active hands, good hustle.”
The “Practice” in Action
Man, this was way tougher than I figured. The game moves at a wild pace! Plus, the TV broadcast doesn’t always show you what you want to see. Camera cuts away right when you’re trying to see if a guy jogged back or really sprinted.
Through the first quarter: I was mostly just struggling to keep up. Both teams came out with that typical early game energy. I managed to put a few plus marks next to some of the younger guys on both squads – they always seem to have that extra bit of jump, trying to make a statement.
Into the second quarter: This is where you start seeing who’s got sustained energy and who’s starting to coast a bit. I definitely spotted a couple of big-name players, no need to call them out, who looked like they were conserving energy. Or maybe they were just having an off segment. My notes got a bit more direct here, like “Player X – lazy closeout, again.”
Halftime thoughts: Took a moment to look at my chicken scratch. It was a mess, honestly. But even with the scribbles, I could spot some initial patterns. Certain players were consistently putting in that “thankless” work. Others? Well, let’s just say their effort was more… selective. Made me think, this must be a fraction of what coaches are looking at constantly.
Third and Fourth Quarters: This is where the rubber meets the road. Game gets tight, or one team starts to pull away – that’s when true effort, or lack thereof, really shines. Who’s still battling when they’re down big? Who’s making smart, gritty plays versus just chucking up hero shots? I tried to note down not just the physical stuff but also what looked like mental effort – good positioning off-ball, trying to communicate (as much as you can tell from TV).
So, What Did I Learn From Staring So Intensely?
By the final buzzer, my notebook was a disaster. My handwriting, which is already pretty terrible, looked like an ancient script nobody could decipher. But here’s the thing: I felt like I watched that game on a completely different wavelength. It wasn’t just about the ball going in the hoop. It was about the underlying grind. It’s so easy to be a casual fan and just get caught up in the final score and the flashy plays.
This whole exercise, this attempt to meticulously track something as fuzzy as “effort,” it actually kicked up a memory of something totally unrelated. Funny how your mind just connects dots sometimes.
Years back, I was at this job – not a terrible place, but incredibly high-pressure. We were on this monster project, a real nightmare to manage. Everyone was burning out. And my manager back then, he was one of those types, totally obsessed with “visible achievements.” If it wasn’t something shiny he could present up the chain, he barely registered it. He had absolutely no clue, or maybe didn’t care, about the insane hours, the dead-ends we navigated, the sheer bloody effort it took just to keep the damn thing from exploding before it was officially “finished.”
I distinctly remember this one stretch, our team pulled like two all-nighters in a row to squash this critical system failure. We were running on fumes but we got it done. The next morning, the manager strolls in, sees the system status is green, just gives a little nod and says, “Okay, good.” That was it. No “how did you fix it?”, no “what did it take?”. Just “good.” It felt exactly like he was only looking at the final score of a game, totally blind to all the dirty work, the hustle plays that made the win possible.
So, watching the Lakers and Sixers with that focused lens, trying to spot all that unseen effort, it just dragged that old frustration right back to the surface. It’s a reminder of how much sheer work goes unnoticed, in sports, in our jobs, pretty much everywhere. And how quick we are to judge based on the highlights or the final outcome, not the whole messy process.
Anyway, that Lakers vs Sixers game. It was a basketball game. But for me, it morphed into this weird little personal experiment in paying attention, and then this unexpected dive into old memories about how effort gets valued, or not valued. Life’s strange like that. Next game, who knows? Maybe I’ll just go back to shouting at my TV. Then again, this was actually kind of eye-opening, even if my notes are only good for starting a fire.
