I recently was going back-and-forth with someone about NBA rivalries. Their point? That to dislike the Spurs after all of these years is ridiculous. That it was different players on different rosters that I disliked and, seeing as San Antonio have a .394 winning percentage over the past 4 seasons and haven’t made the postseason, that I should “get over” my Spurs disdain. Get bent.

“Sports hate”. It’s not real hate. I don’t wish horrible things upon individual players, their families, or members of their fanbase. Like Twitter, it’s not real. It lives in the not-well-furnished space of the brain that makes grown men buy jerseys with other grown men’s name on the back. Where neon signs are cool and posters on the wall are allowed to be hung and not stored in the garage by our wives.
I only realistically wish upon my fake enemies what they have done to me: emotional sports damage.

Sports hate is part of the fabric of every fanbase. It is what welds us together at the seams and creates a culture. Hell, we sports hate some of our own players, which tears us apart (Exhibit A: Deandre Ayton). But the shared hatred of opposing franchises or teams, generally brought on by the misery of defeat, will always live rent free in our sports minds.

Spurs fans who are passing this piece around, know this: Yes, you live rent free in my head.

You go ahead and enjoy your five championships, and your Hall of Fame centers, and your ugly color palette, and your Victoria Silvstedt, Playmate of the Year, and your creative “U” that fits perfectly into your logo. I have my fractured memories and the fact that we swept you in the 2010 Western Conference Semifinals to hold tightly to as I fire off Tweets of aversion.

The Spurs negatively affected my mid-20’s in a way that is irreparable.

Going to the local bars throughout Phoenix, watching playoff basketball with friends and fans alike, were memorable times. I’m 40 now. I don’t do anything cool. I’m writing about sports hate instead of something cool literally right now. Back then I could recklessly spend what I wanted to on 24 ounce beers and wings because all I had was myself. Now I have a family, a mortgage, and high cholesterol. Plus, hangovers…who needs that crap?

Those moments of Suns community were a chance to feel something unique and special. The Spurs (2005, 2007, 2008) ended the season in the creatively screwed up ways that left sports scars. Bloody-nosed Nash. Bruce Bowen nut shots. Robert Horry’s hockey audition tape. Manu Gi-nose bleed. Tim Duncan three-pointers. 3,000 shots of Eva Longoria on the sideline.

Scars, baby. Scars.

So yeah, I will continue to sports hate the Spurs. I will continue to be anti-anything good that happens to their organization. I will continue to be petty. That’s what sports are all about. Someday our time will come. Someday the Suns will live rent free in the minds of opposing fanbases.

But don’t tell me to “get over it” then delete the receipts. Don’t tell me that I shouldn’t sports hate the current version of an organization that is a rival. Go watch Vanderpump Rules or something. I’ll be over here, sports hating away. Why? Because, as Lester Bangs says in Almost Famous, “I’m not cool”.