The Deadliest Catch

It is my new favorite TV show.

Each fishing season, a couple of hundred fishing vessels converge on The Bering Sea in pursuit of Alaskan king crab. A successful crab season can net a captain and his crew upwards of $1 Million. Such a bounty does not come without a price. Crab jockeys ride to work on multi-million dollar horses and toil in an environment where one navigational miscalculation or an unexpected temper tantrum from Mother Nature can claim a boat and her crew. It takes a special man to assume such responsibility for his crew and their collective safety and fiscal well being.

By all accounts, Derek Fisher would make a great fishing boat captain.

The Utah Jazz’s fishing season began this past summer when they swapped three worthless deckhands for Mr. Fisher. Even the most cynical Jazz fans were stunned at such a lopsided trade and more than a few attributed it to the possibility that Warrior GM Chris Mullin might once again be smuggling cases of Genesee Cream Ale into his office.

Fisher is a pro’s pro. Impeccable in character and commitment, so much so that it seems to the casual fan that even his on court mistakes ooze of quiet competence. He is the guy you hope your daughter brings home, the guy you picture towering over his young son in council, firm but calm, never laying a hand on the lad. A natural fit for a franchise that prides itself, not on the pretty paint job covering the new fishing vessel, but on the bulk and functionality of its anchor below the waterline.

There is one minor crack in the Jazz’s hull.

Derek Fisher is not a good basketball player.

He is an illusion, an on court empty fishing boat. It is not obvious at first, but it is now undeniable. Like the gale winds of the Bering Sea, he wears you down until finally you realize the storm is upon you and there is nothing you can do but seek shelter, turn for home, ride it out. Unfortunately, we now know that the journey home will take 3 more years and cost the Jazz $20,580,000 to complete.

My team’s summer fishing bounty is now my team’s Deadliest Catch.

We now know that the wave crashing drives into the lane are not random occurrences but are ongoing maneuvers in the Captain’s tactical fishing plan. One 3pt attempt leads to another and another and another. Success or failure of a previous attempt is irrelevant. There is no adjusting to sea or weather conditions. Each crab pot thrown overboard is an indiscriminate act, void of memory or purpose.

Oh, and that is the strength of his game.

Poor defense is spit polished through the illusion of hustle and he has mastered the variable-ratio reinforcement schedule of passing in order to keep his teammates minimally satisfied. Naturally, the Jazz Chain of Command loves him. There was never a doubt about that.

The NBA season grinds on and my new favorite TV Show begins its third season in April. Just in time for the playoffs. It now seems inevitable that the Jazz will be playing a game at the same time as an airing of a new episode. Which Deadliest Catch do I watch? As Captain Phil of the vessel Cornelia Marie says, “I feel like a one legged man in an ass-kicking contest.”

Harpring Sucks.