Chicago Bulls Confidential

Many times in my life, I have been posed the question, "so how did you get into basketball?" The question is a valid one, because it's usually asked by somebody who understands the status of basketball in Great Britain and England, probably because I've ranted about it to them. I talk about it a lot, and I've written about in on here as well.

The short version of it is this; basketball has no status here.

(By the way, the answer to the initial question; on a wet Saturday afternoon back in 1999, my 15-year-old self was channel hopping, and stumbled upon the half hour weekly NBA magazine show that existed back then. The presenter was a lovely lady called Beverly Turner. I stayed and looked at her for a bit, because that's what 15 year olds do, and eventually decided that I liked the sport as well. So she is to blame.)

Last year, a channel called Five brought us one as-live NBA game a week, in the early hours of Wednesday morning. They savaged it, unsubtlely deciding that only black youths would watch the show and tailoring their marketing strategies accordingly. They also thought that they were capable of doing their own studio analysis, but all that achieved was further subjecting our sole NBA membrane to the kind of torture unbefitting of even the most hardened terrorist. This one game a week represented our only NBA influx in this country, and one of our only means of watching professional basketball; since our own league is of a worse standard than NCAA's Division 2, that didn't get televised either.

Furthermore, the sport has little foundation here. More outdoor facilities are appearing in inner cities as time goes on, but basketball is not played in all schools (at least, it wasn't in mine), and there's no history of the game over here from which we can exploit some heritage. In a football-centric country drizzled with heavy lashings of cricket, rugby, tennis, golf and pub sports, basketball ranks about 76th on the nation's popular sporting pastimes list, just behind competitive loft lagging.

However, I think we're finally getting somewhere.
For a few years now, the NBA has realised the potential of the British market, and has tried to thrust their product into our faces like a particularly forward lapdancer. They opened an office in London back in 2007 - which may or may not consist only of two Enigma machines and a desk tidy - and they have held preseason games here for three straight years. Those games have sold out, been televised to an audience of hundreds of dozens, and generally gone down rather well. David Stern's plan to permeate the British market extends beyond this to include a regular season NBA game in London before the 2012 Olympics, something which now looks inevitable due to the success of the preseason games.

Stern has spoken about possible European expansion frequently, and London has always been considered a logical target for it. This is partly because of the presence of the o2 Arena, a formerly awful Millennium celebration museum that has been turned into the highest of high quality sporting auditoriums (and which retains its iconic resemblance to an unplucked nipple). However, it's also due to the fact that London is the 19th biggest city on the planet and an economic capital of the world, located in a country housing 49 million people, most of whom don't yet know what they're missing. England, and specifically London, boasts a potentially huge basketball market.

I have always been conflicted on the idea of European expansion. Primarily, I can't understand how it would be feasible. Countries such as Italy, Spain and Greece have their own basketball leagues which are steeped in heritage and passion, if not exactly the economic machine that the NBA is. The cities are basketball mad, but they're only basketball mad because they already have basketball teams in them. As such, I fail to see how accepting they can be of an interloping NBA franchise, and where the support is going to come from. And while a franchise in London wouldn't have these problems, the travel demands on the American NBA teams crossing the Atlantic for just one game is surely unfeasible. There would need to be more than one European franchise, and there aren't that many options to choose from.

That said, for purely selfish reasons, I would like to see it happen. Living 50 miles from the o2 Arena, the NBA - which has evaded me for so long - would be kind of on my doorstep. I'd be able to see games far more regularly, meet some other basketball fans in my area (currently impossible), and maybe even get a job as a cheerleader after a breast augmentation. My Bulls allegiance would be put under severe strain, but I could probably handle that.

Since that rainswept Saturday afternoon ten years ago, I have followed the NBA with a level of dedication that should really have seen me committed. In lieu of having any other hobbies, social life or interractions with women, I devote ridiculous amounts of time, words and thought to the pursuit of fringe and former NBA players, to trying to decipher the headjam that is the Collective Bargaining Agreement, and to working out potential anagrams of Tayshaun Prince's name. The NBA for me is a labour of love, a hobby to which I devote about 80 hours a week, despite having nothing to show for all that time except an increasingly aggrieved credit card company. I wouldn't stop even if I could.

(The best anagram of Tayshaun Prince; 'raunchy panties.' You needed to know that.)

However, for all that passion and time devoted, I have never been to an NBA game. I've never been to America (see earlier credit card comment) and I did not go to either of the previous preseason games in London. I didn't see the point in paying a ridiculous amount of money to see a game in which neither I nor the coaches had any particular interest in the result, between teams I am highly apathetic towards (Boston, Minnesota, Miami, New Jersey). So I remained an NBA virgin.

But once it was announced that this year's game would feature the Bulls.......well, then I had to go along to it and take copious notes.

There follows the chronicles of my day, the story of a mid 20's man getting as excited as a sugared up six year old over the prospect of watching grown men running around after a ball. Hopefully, you'll find some pathos in here. All times BST.

6.00pm: After a 10 year wait, a 3 hour journey, and only one near-death experience on the way involving an angry man in a Peugeot, I have finally made it to my first NBA game. After a few minutes of excited skipping and gentle sobbing, I waste no more time and head straight for my seats. There was entertainment to be had outside the arena; Darryl Dawkins was being introduced to the people crowded around some open sided lorry, wearing an outrageous pinky orange suit, and Benny The Bull was accosting strangers in a barely legal fashion. But I wanted to watch shootaround because, well, I'm strange.

6.10pm: After managing to avoid being frisked by the burly looking security man whose job was to check the crowd for guns, broadswords and weapons of mass destruction, I finally get to my seat, the aptly numbered seat #666. My companion with me for the day is my friend Dom, who has never watched a game of basketball in his life. (His understanding of the game was limited to knowing that you had to bounce the ball, and that shots from behind the stripey thing are worth more. Good points well made.) Dom's here because he didn't buy his ticket; I bought two for myself, knowing that this would be the the only way I could guarantee I wouldn't go on my own. I then proceeded to have great trouble giving the second ticket away. That's how disinterested the general British public are in the NBA. (It's also not a great endorsement of my social life.)

6.11pm: The only person taking part in shootaround when we first get there is Luol Deng, who is busy engaging in a shooting ritual that involves standing one pace inside the three point arc, catching, shooting, stepping back, stepping in again, catching and shooting. He's shooting lights out from this 20 foot range, but what he's not doing is stepping back behind the three point arc. This routine continues for over 10 minutes. Deng doesn't attempt a single three.

6.14pm: Meanwhile, on the Jazz end of the court, Kyle Korver is performing a series of stretches that make him look like he's auditioning to be a catalogue model. Korver is not playing tonight due to a knee injury, which doesn't really explain why he's showing his crotch so much, but it does make it doubly unfair that he's had to change into uniform - knee high socks and all - to complete this provocative limbering ritual.

6.20pm: Deng pauses for a few minutes, and then commences another shooting routine, this time from outside the three point line. Dom notes that Deng was "having a bit of trouble here," which should be indicative of how well this change of attack went for him. It's also only in person that you notice how flat Deng shoots the ball, which makes his ability to shoot from mid-range as well as he does doubly impressive. Yet it also can't bode well for the potential of his as-yet undeveloped three point stroke.

About this time, Joakim Noah comes out for his own shooting ritual, and starts casting up 13 foot jumpshots from all angles. He hits his first 8. I'm impressed.

6.24pm: Since hitting his first eight shots, Noah has now gone about 7 for 246. For a minute there, I thought we had something.

6.25pm: By the way, not only is this the first NBA game of my life, but it's also only the third basketball game that I've ever seen in person. The other two were Ware Rebels games about 8 years ago, a now-defunct semi-pro British team hailing from my local town. After the second one, the night bus didn't show up, and I had to walk the 9 miles home. It was after this that my passion for basketball really took off.

6.26pm: Were the colour choice not sufficient evidence, let it be known that Darryl Dawkins can't dress. His suit suffers not only from the awful colouring, but also from being way too long. If you were going to appear on television in front of an eager nation, you'd dress for the part, would you not? Well, Darryl Dawkins did not.

He's also spending a lot of time hugging other men. There's nothing wrong with this, per se, but after about the 14th instance of this, I'm starting to think that he's just hugging strangers. And that's weird.

6.45pm: At this stage, the arena is barely occupied. The vast majority of seats are empty, only a couple of players are on the court shooting around, and the pre-game entertainment has not yet started. The only thing actually transpiring anywhere is Darryl Dawkins' man-hugging. I however am still having a great time, trying to quickly explain the rules of the game to Dom, as well as any other miscellany that I can think of. It's at this moment that the surreal nature of the situation - of finally watching my first NBA game in person after about 2,500 on TV, and of devoting a life to a pursuit that I'd never previously been within 2,000 miles of - finally hits me. This epiphany is a bit too intense for me. I sulk.

Dom brightens the mood by pointing out that the Bulls logo looks a bit like The Laughing Cow.

6.47pm: The pre-game entertainment starts, and the Nu-Skin Jazz Dancers appear, once again proving that if you put a long haired girl in knee-high boots and a white mini-skirt, and stand her over 100 feet away, then she's guaranteed to look attractive. We are then introduced to our "arena MC" for the night, Simon Hosannah, who is greeted by a lame cheer more befitting of a pensioner's golf outing. The atmosphere at the moment is about as electric as a blancmange.

For some reason, most of the LuvaBulls are not here. Four of them are, but clearly four is not deemed to be enough to be introduced, so they stand off to the side waving pom poms and looking kind of sad. There's two fat guys with them. I don't think they're supposed to be there.

6.50pm: The pre-game entertainment is ramped up yet further, as the Jazz Dunk Team take to the floor for some trampette-based fun. (Note: a trampette is a mini-trampoline, not a female tramp.) I've seen Slamball spectacles such as this many, many times, but never in person. It's kind of fun, even if being 150 feet away from the action (and 100 feet above it) does slightly stymie the entertainment. This is the kind of thing that you miss out on when watching games on television. I would rather watch this than burger adverts.

6.51pm: Simon Hosannah announces the two teams for tonight's event, in case anyone had forgotten them. The announcing of the Bulls name is greeted with a cheer about 5 times bigger than the Jazz's cheer (and about 750 times louder than the cheer for Simon Hosannah). Were it in any doubt, the Bulls are going to be the clear cut crowd favourite tonight, for obvious reasons. This might be crucial for the success of the evening; the two previous preseason games had no discernible majority favourite and no home team to favour (obviously), and that led to a quiet night from a sold-out stadium. Tonight, with such an obvious bias, the place might get louder. This will be good for the event, and anything that's good for the event is good for the sport.

6.56pm: Dom asks how long the quarters are, which is yet another yardstick for how far this sport has to come. At least he knew it was divided into quarters.

7.00pm: The JumboTron has been showing random highlight reel plays since we got here, but it's now cut away to show a list of tonight's sponsors. One of them is the Greek National Tourist Board. I have no idea why this is. Must be a Kosta Koufos thing.

7.03pm: The seats around us finally start to fill up. A girl sits next to me in seat #667. She blows her nose for two whole minutes. Not good. Not good at all. You don't get this on the telly, either.

7.10pm: All the players are now out to shoot around, and player spotting begins in earnest. Korver recommences stretching, and Deng recommences his 20 footers. I am quickly able to identify all of the players - particularly the Jazz players, who are at the end nearer to me - but one Bulls player is mystifying me. He's quite small, but very quick, and is hanging around the rim talking to people. At one point he pulls all the way out to the three point line, throws the ball in the air, catches the bounce and tries to dunk in, in a dunk contest-style self-alleyoop. I conclude that this player must Derrick Rose.

7.11pm: It's Jannero Pargo.

7.12pm: By the way, he missed it badly.

7.14pm:The clock on the JumboTron reads that there are 10 minutes until game time, and the arena is now about half full. The place has started to fill up, and all the seats in our row have been filled. Better yet, they've been filled by girls that are all pretty much hot, even the one with the mucus problem. Score another one up for the live game positives.

7.15pm: Kyle Korver has been out there for the majority of the last hour, involved in a whole host of provocative stretches. His stretching display now reaches its climax (so to speak) when a Jazz trainer comes and assists him, grabbing an area that can only really be described as Kyle's testicles. How this helps Korver's knee, I'm not sure, but both of them held the position for a good few seconds. As pre-game rituals go, this one is hardcore.

Meanwhile, Dom refuses to bet £35 on the outcome of the game, and decides that he wants the Bulls to win. Peer pressure is a beautiful thing.

7.20pm: I'm not lying when I tell you that Kirk Hinrich just missed the rim in the layup line. It's his own fault for trying to shoot it so high. At least he used the backboard for a change.

Running short of rules to explain, I inform Dom that Mehmet Okur shaves his armpits and is married to a former Miss Turkey. It's this kind of trivia that can really drive a man to anagram.

7.24pm: The end of the layup line is greeted with a big cheer from the increasingly-full arena crowd. The lights haven't gone down yet, and neither has Korver's trainer, yet the crowd are eager to get things underway. The cheap seats are now almost entirely full, whilst the lower tiered seats are still roughly half-empty. It seems counter-intuitive that the people who pay less would be more passionate about the game, yet there it is. (Although maybe an alternative explanation would be that the people in the higher value seats can afford the ridiculous food prices. But more on this later.)

7.30pm: The introductions have started, with the effective road team (the Jazz) going first. Their arrival is greeted by an absolutely massive Utah Jazz flag, and a chorus of boos. The boos slowly peter out, and even crescendo into a decent size cheer for Deron Williams, but the stage has been set; in a technically neutral venue, the crowd has chosen its side.

The Bulls intro got a much bigger cheer, and a far greater crescendo;

Even though that was far from the best introduction in the history of the Chicago Bulls, it worked. Now I'm feeling it.

7.32pm: Deng takes the microphone and gives a short speech to the crowd, saying that he hopes we enjoy the game. Ultimately, Luol, that's up to you.

The game then begins in earnest. From now on, all times are read from the game clock.

11.31: On the Bulls second offensive possession, Noah catches the ball at the top of the arc, and quickly drives to his right all the way for an easy layup. It's hard to know what to make of Noah sometimes, a primarily face-up guy with absolutely no jumpshot whatsoever. But he's probably one of the three fastest centres in the NBA right now, and with his ball handling abilities, this kind of thing could (and perhaps should) become a feature of the offense. A complimentary jumpshot would be nice as well, but as we saw in the warm-ups, that hasn't quite happened yet.

10.00: When confronted with a wide open lane, Taj Gibson pulls up for a 12 foot jumper, which he misses. So it's not just Tyrus Thomas who can be susceptible to his own jumpshot.

09.40: Deng reacts quickly on an offensive move, catching the ball in the post with his back to the basket and showing good footwork in creating space for a fallaway jumper, which he hits. Other than a couple of lone instances, this isn't a tool he's shown in the previous five years; he's probably had more five second violations while posting up than he's had successful baskets. This, then, is a good sign. If Deng just came back to being the same player he was at his peak, I think we'd all be happy with that, but if he adds some new skills to it as well....bonus.

09.24: It's really weird watching a game without commentary. I start substituting in my own. Turns out I'm not very good at it. It's also painfully apparent that the crowd of people immediately behind me don't know what's going on; most of them sit there in a pained silence, while two men try to explain to two girlfriends what is happening. And not particularly successfully either.

08.55: Deng demonstrates more post effectiveness with a good pass out of there that leads to a Gibson three point play. Maybe he's done more than just get healthy this summer.

08.40: Pargo turns down a jumpshot, tries to pass the ball off, and causes a turnover. This will be the last time he turns down a jumpshot tonight, maybe for the whole season.

07.55: Noah blocks a shot, turns on the jets, and is first down the court at the other basket. How many centres can do that? The play results in a trailing Deng getting a three point play, but Noah's sheer effort made for a great decoy. That's what you're to be doing, Tyrus.

Darryl Dawkins' role as an ambassador of the game doesn't seem to involve much watching of the game. He continues to walk around the court, finding people, and embracing them. It's an easy life.

06.45: Taj Gibson adds to the ever-growing list of "things we didn't know Taj Gibson was that good at" when he plays textbook perimeter defense on Mehmet Okur. He closed out quickly, stayed on his feet during Memo's shot fake, and challenged the shot sufficiently that Okur had to shoot it twice as high as he wanted to. Okur hit a buzzer beating three pointer anyway, which took the gloss off of things, but, still. Chalk another one up for the Gibson.

The man behind me has a potty mouth. It is rare that I am outsworn while watching a basketball game.

06.10: It's not a coincidence that Deng is beasting to open this game. He finds Pargo at the rim for Pargo's only layup of the night (more on this later), and then disrupts Deron Williams on a switch, before cherry picking his way to an easy layup of his own. The crowd are happy about this, but not happy enough to make any noise.

05.40: As the first timeout of the game is called, with the score tied at 14-14, it finally hits me; the arena music makes sense. I've always loathed it when watching games on television, but now that I'm here, it suddenly seems sensible. Maybe we're all too easily manipulated, or maybe we're all too bored, but when Busta Rhymes (LeAnn's husband) comes over the speakers and asks us to make it clap, we oblige him. I do think it's about time they did away with the Missy Elliott tune, though.

05.29: A Ronnie Brewer airball brings audible ambivalence from the crowd, unsure as to how to react to an airball, or even whether it was an airball in the first place. If you want to know what ambivalence sounds like, shave your pet rabbit, and hold the grand unveiling of your newfound lapine artistry skills at the dinner table during the carving of the Christmas pudding. The resulting mixture of gasps, awkwardness and giggling are pretty much what Ronnie Brewer just went through.

04.46: Anyone who took the under on whether Brad Miller would commit a hard foul within 23.5 seconds of entering the game just won themselves a bun, as Miller clubs a Wesley Matthews layup attempt and then claims that he's the one that got hit. Good old Brad. He's far from being the best defender around the basket, but he'll hit you if he has to.

04.30: Another Deng post-up leads to another quality pass out of it, and even though the Bulls don't score from it, Deng's passing skills created another high percentage look. That's good news. The bad news is that while Deng's moving freely and running hard, he also appears to have little to no leaping ability any more. He didn't have much in the first place, but he's come back even less jumpy after the fracture. Hopefully this is just teething trouble.

03.59: Hinrich and Noah run a pick and roll that results in Noah getting two foul shots. Noah has been used on offense the whole quarter, getting looks around the rim, taking Okur off the dribble, and generally using his tremendous speed for his height to good effect. This weapon is often available to the Bulls, and they could definitely use it more. He's not that bad of a finisher either, jumpshots excepted.

03.16: Deng makes a long two point jumpshot from the exact same spot that he practiced from for 5 minutes before the game started. That would explain a lot.

03.02: So Brad Miller's no quicker this year, then.

02.34: Kirk Hinrich makes his first floater since the end of the 2004 season, to audible shock and awe from.......me.

01.51: Yet another Deng assist leads to a Derrick Byars dunk. Here's the thing; even if Deng doesn't pass a whole lot - due in large part to him not handling the ball much - he's a decent and sensible passer. Kirk Hinrich's a decent passer, too, and Derrick Rose is probably the best on the team. Brad Miller is one of the best passing big men of a generation, and Joakim Noah, Taj Gibson and Tyrus Thomas are also good at it. Even John Salmons used to play a lot of backup point guard, and has good passing vision for a wing man, despite his refusal to use it any more. With all this passing vision and skill available in 8 of our front 9 players, what is it that prevents the Bulls from developing an expansive and efficient playbook, one which masks their comparative lack of post-up offense? We're a much better offensive team than we were in the Skiles era, yet I don't feel as though they're near their peak on this end of the floor yet. There's plenty of options here.

01.21: With the Jazz winning 26-24, a timeout brings our first timeout entertainment of the night; a highly awkward first-person-to-hit-two-jumpshots-wins competition between two random audience members. You know that event at the All Star Weekend that no one likes? Yeah. It was like that. This part of the 'NBA Experience' is a part that we could all do without.

01.02: Right on cue, Brad Miller makes a tremendous bounce pass out of an inbounds play to a cutting James Johnson, only for Kirilenko to one-up Miller by blocking the dunk attempt. I'm just saying, though. Having passing bigs like we do opens up these possibilities.

00.05: The quarter ends with Andrei Kirilenko airballing a three pointer that he was wide open for. The crowd are much less ambivalent this time, much to the relief of rabbits and Christmas pudding enthusiasts everywhere. A few seconds before the shot went up, me and Dom had the following exchange:

"That's Andrei Kirilenko. His wife lets him cheat. He's earning $16 and a half million this year."
"Can he shoot?"
"No."

I felt vindicated.

The quarter interval brings us more Slamball, with the guy that missed most of his attempts during the first session righting the ship and putting forth a solid performance. At this point I notice the man to my right drinking a beer. This might not seem like a big deal, but considering that alcohol is banned from all football grounds in this country, it was definitely an unexpected sight. I hope we don't now have a riot.

Between the dunk team and the cheerleaders, the Jazz appear to have brought all the entertainment for the evening. There are the same two fat men in Bulls jerseys standing courtside, but I'm not sure if they're Matadors or just two random fat men. And I'd hate to ask.

Simon Hosannah asks the crowd to make some noise. They don't.

11.05: Byars tip dunks a missed Miller three, picking up his second dunk of the night, already surpassing Larry Hughes's total for all of last season. Fun fact. He's also unquestionably a better shooter than Hughes, and he's going to be paid about 40 times less. Last year we had Hughes as our tall shooting guard option; this year, we might have Derrick Byars. I'm very happy with that exchange.

10.10: The arena is almost full by now, but it's still not loud. One rogue woman in the cheap seats decides to kick things off, stands up and yells "DE-FENSE!!!", gesticulating to the rest of the room that we should join her in her suffering. At least seven other people do. Those people are going to heaven.

09.20: I have my second successful call of the evening, stating "he'll make that" just seconds before Jannero Pargo hits a straightaway three. If you'd like to see me taken down a peg and unravel into a quivering mess, read on.

08.38: After Kirilenko does his thing and deflects a Taj Gibson pass, the ball is batted around for a bit, with the Jazz eventually coming away with it. They then proceed to balls up the resulting four on one break, with Kosta Koufos dropping a pass and Ronald Dupree missed a zero footer, before being bailed out by a foul call. An unhappy Sloan calls a timeout before the free throws are taken, and another shooting contest is quickly hustled onto the court. Lest we forget, we're still in preseason. But apart from the occasional glitch such as this, it's been a surprisingly high standard game. It even got a bit physical when Miller came in.

(By the way, this particular shooting contest was one of the lowest standard shooting contests you'll ever see. Two contestants had 45 seconds to hit as many foul shots as possible. The winner went 9-20, the loser went 1-22 with 11 air balls. Bad times. Let's move on.)

After the contest comes the first airing of the night's Kiss Cam, an always awesome event that I've never seen in person before. I warn Dom that if we appear on screen, I'm going to have to kiss him on the mouth. (I'd rather kiss him than the girl with all the mucus issues, to be honest.) He takes the news well, but luckily we're spared; the camera picks out a man sitting next to a random fat woman, and we're treated to the sight of him unsubtlely mouthing the words "not a chance." Good times. This event marked a turning point in the night's crowd noise.

08.18: Back to the game, and Jannero Pargo just dribbled for 19 seconds of the shot clock before draining a step-back long two point jumpshot. I mention to Dom that that wasn't a good thing. He asks me why. Strangely, I am unable to answer him. It did go in, after all. But by the time we reach the fourth quarter, the answer has become painfully obvious.

Dom thinks Pargo is great, by the way. He'll learn.

07.42: The Bulls take a 38-34 lead on a Byars drive and dish leading to another Gibson three point play. Byars might be better suited to the small forward spot, because he's not especially quick, but you can never have too many decent players and you can never have too many shooters. I'm starting to think it's more likely that Byars makes the team than he doesn't.

07.16 - 06.07: James Johnson arrives with a flurry. (No McDonalds jokes.) First is a huge putback dunk off a Deng miss, followed by a made three pointer on the next trip down. Then he snags a tough rebound in traffic off of a Dupree miss, takes the ball coast to coast, before charging over Paul Millsap and causing a turnover. Still, four out of five good things in a 70 second span is not bad.

Spencer Nelson has checked into the game for Utah, to complete silence. I am at first heartened by the fact that I'm the only person in the crowd that's heard of him, and then change to being deeply ashamed. There's no pride to be had there.

05.22: A timeout brings out the acrobatic dancing chicks whose names I forgot. (Something like Dance Patrol.) Whoever they are, they are far more enthusiastic than almost everyone else tonight, including (but not limited to) the crowd and Deron Williams. Yet they're not more enthusiastic than Darryl Dawkins, who continues to walk around touching people. A perk of the job.

Disco Cam went well, but it's no Kiss Cam.

04.30: Noah again drives from outside the paint all the way to the basket, and gets two foul shots. Admittedly it was only against Goran Suton, who isn't a speed demon when running backwards, but this league has a lot of Goran Suton types in it, and far fewer Joakim's. Situations like this will crop up often, and can always be exploited. I want to see things like this become a bigger part of our playbook this year.

Noah's second free throw brings with it one of the more amusing heckles of a lifetime, as one man finds enough diaphragm to fire out an earth shatteringly loud word that I can't really repeat here. Let's just say it rhymed with the word "rick." In fact, it was the word "rick," but with a P in front of it. Great times. Noah makes the shot anyway and builds a 10 point lead.

03.46 - 03.36: Suton exacts revenge on Noah. In a halfcourt possession, he stands outside the arc, where Noah is unwilling to come out of the paint to shadow him, causing a defensive three second violation. Then from the subsequent inbounds play, he outmuscles Noah for position in the paint, and scores an easy layup. Noah looks stronger than ever before, but he's still thin, and he probably always will be. This is the unfortunate side effect of that.

03.02: Johnson demonstrates yet another skill when he performs a poster block on a Paul Millsap dunk attempt from of a broken play. Unfortunately, he went through Millsap's head to get it. But never mind; the athleticism is good for someone with quite a large frame.

(I am tactfully calling him fat here.)

After a third straight Bulls turnover, Del Negro calls a timeout, which leads to the most pointless timeout entertainment of the night; a shoe design contest. This one was pure filler material. Let's forget it ever happened.

Jerry Sloan perpetually looks like a man who's just seen his first naked woman for 30 years.

01.58: Deng hits another jumpshot out of the post. 30 seconds later, he does it again. If he learns a counter-move soon, we'll have ourselves a post option.

Kirk follows this up with quite a stunning little fake dribble-handoff which turned into a 20 foot jumpshot. He airmailed it, but got two foul shots. Hinrich's overdribbling is a curse, but it's better than a turnover, because at least you normally get a shot out of it. And even bad shots have a chance.

The quarter ends with the Bulls leading 55-48, a high scoring affair for only the second preseason game. It would be higher scoring had Utah not missed more than their fair share of makeable shots; the Bulls have definitely dodged a few bullets. Chicago have passed crisply all game long and shot well, and if I'd been paying more attention to the game than I had the hot chicks in my row, then I could have told you what was wrong with the defense as well. Never mind.

Half time at my first ever NBA game is a polarising experience. After a three hour trip into the centre of London for the game, I'm hungry, and consider buying some food from one of the many food outlets available in the arena. But after taking one look at the prices and noticing that it's £6.90 for a burger and chips [fries], I bail on that plan and instead go for a wee. Once in the toilet, I am near the front of the exceptionally long toilet queue, and am standing next to the condom machine. A sticker on top of the otherwise unblemished condom machine says that the protective wares contained within are being sold as packets of 3 for only a pound. This represents great value anywhere in the world, let alone in a hive of corporate overpricing such as the o2 Arena, and I briefly consider bulk buying them, if only for the resale value. (And it would definitely be only for the resale value.)

This is kind of unbelievable to me. How is it possible anywhere in the world to be able to buy 21 penis sheathes for the same cost as a burger and chips? It's a tough economic climate, and I'm standing in one of the world's financial capitals, but how have things reached a stage where multiple instances of safe sex is cheaper than an adequate hot meal? I don't know. But I'm also not sure that it's a bad thing.

My foray to the toilet also led to a slightly surreal moment involving midgets and urine. Not only is basketball a natural career choice for taller men, it also seems to attract taller than average fans. I measure in at 6'3/6'4 ish - yes, we use feet and inches to measure people's height in Britain - yet I've rarely encountered anyone taller than me. However, in this public urinal, I was the shortest of a five man lineup, surrounded by a bevvy of giant men all peeing like diuretic racehorses. It was an awkward experience that I never wish to be reproduced. (The solace from this: the queue for the female toilets was like my row; decked out in hotties. I never realised the cheap seats in professional sports arenas could be so resplendent. Great times.)

The half time entertainment featured the best sideshow of the day; a woman on a unicycle balancing crockery on her foot, flicking it up, and catching it on her head. Chris Richard then decided it was his turn to shoot an airball in shootaround. There are some things in life you never, ever get tired of, and those are two of them.

At some point in the whole midget urinal story, I lost my train ticket. The rest of half time was spent sulking.

11.35: The third quarter begins with Deng going for a dunk attempt, but never getting above rim height. See earlier comment about his lack of explosion; he's moving well, but not getting in the air. It's the sole concern in an otherwise high quality performance by him. He follows it up a minute later by hitting a corner three pointer, which I again called before it happened. I think I'm impressing people. I'm not.

09.14: His offense has been better than we may have imagined, but there's still one thing to take heed of; Taj Gibson can't catch.

07.31: Carlos Boozer turns it over again and has looked extremely bored the entire game. At least, as bored as a man can look from 100 feet away.

08.21 - 06.46: Kirk grabs his sixth rebound of the game, and is having a fine outing overall. Him and Noah have run five two-man plays in the opening of the second half; a give and go for a Hinrich two pointer, two pick and rolls (resulting in a drawn foul on one possession, and a Noah made layup on the other), a drive and kick by Noah for a Hinrich three, and a third pick and roll that resulted in Noah getting the ball under the basket, from where he found a cutting Deng for the finger roll. Five plays, four baskets, one defensive foul, nine points. Can't argue with that. The two have worked well together.

05.52: After consecutive Jazz scores that cut it to a 7 point game, the Bulls take a timeout. Have you ever noticed that when timeouts are called, Del Negro strides out purposefully onto the court, gets as far as the edge of the paint, turns around, waits for everyone to walk past him, before returning to the huddle? It's kind of obsessive compulsive in its consistency. He does this literally every time.

This timeout sees another mini competition, this time featuring a blindfolded girl attempting to walk into a man in an Elvis costume using only the crowd's booing as guidance. It was...a strange one. A second rendition of Kiss Cam brightens the proceedings, this time featuring some hot man on man action. Kiss Cam never fails to disappoint.

Still can't believe I lost my freaking train ticket.

05.30 - 05.23: Wes Matthews gets a steal, is fouled, and on the ensuing possession drives to the hoop for a finger roll. He now leads Utah in scoring with 13. If there were any ever doubt, he's making their roster this year.

04.28: A really bad Bulls possession leads to a Chris Richard post-up of all things. Richard bobbles the ball while backing down Boozer, and then shoots an airball on the righty hook shot, but is bailed out with a foul call. He misses both foul shots, and it probably didn't help that our loud and bassy heckler from earlier found his voice again, shouting an extremely English insult at Richard between free throws that rhymed with "Operation Barbarossa." (Another clue: it's also an anagram of 'retoss.')

03.43: 45 seconds later, Lindsey Hunter is at the foul line. His presence in the game goes some way to explaining the earlier comment about really bad offensive possessions. The crowd lets out an almighty roar as Lindsey shoots his first, not because of anything he did, but because the Jazz mascot had impaled his testicles on a handrail, in a presumably choreographed act that looked outrageously painful. That suit better have had good padding.

A blonde girl with a cavernous rack has been circling the arena for a few minutes, letting all people in the top tier with a seat in the front row (e.g. me) that she had a cavernous rack. She walks past Darryl Dawkins, but Darryl doesn't hug her.

02.39: The Jazz call timeout after Pargo fouls Deron Williams. Williams has only 5 points all game, and hasn't looked to score, or to even do much of anything really. The timeout brings about an installment of Smile Cam, which isn't as much fun as Kiss Cam, but which does get genuinely entertaining when the camera accidentally freezes on a woman's chest. By the way, I'm starting to realise that maybe it's all this talk of cavernous racks, man on man action and unplucked nipples that is the reason why I wasn't able to get media credentials for the game. Duly noted.

02.31: Except for the slit in his hair, James Johnson has been barely recognisable from the player we saw against the Pacers in preseason game one. Johnson has been highly aggressive all night, and he takes Carlos Boozer off the dribble here all the way to the rim for a dunk, which is discounted because of a foul before the shot. The aggressive Johnson has displayed an inside/outside offensive game, and a willingness to go get tough rebounds. The aggressive Johnson is a fine player.

The dunk attempt is the beginning of another little Johnson spurt of activity. Over the next 90 seconds, he contests Mehmet Okur in missing a hook shot, travels on a post-up (that accidentally leads to an airball and a Brad Miller putback), blocks an Okur dunk attempt, and then turns it over trying to throw an entry pass to Derrick Byars. As the old saying goes, aggression is the better part of valour, but too many cooks spoil the bird in the hand.

00.30: Jannero Pargo picks up his fifth foul, and we're still in the third quarter. I say to Dom that I expect Pargo to be hidden on the Bulls final possession to avoid the risk of him fouling out. Instead, Pargo dribbles for 20 seconds, isolates, and clanks a long two. Lindsey Hunter then commits a needless foul in the backcourt with three seconds left. Our guard depth, ladies and gentleman. Charge your glasses.

The Bulls lead after three by a score of 81-77.

The break between the third and fourth quarters sees the evening turn on its head. The now-capacity crowd have been slowly ramping up the noise all night, but the noise is never louder than it is during the interval's dance competition, featuring three random crowd members. A young boy is first to dance, but his dancing consists of basically jumping up and down, drawing only a pity ripple. A woman named Natasha goes second, and she tries to bootyshake, with the expected results. However, the third and final entrant is a white haired Jerry Sloan lookalike named Frank, who proceeded to own the dance-off in ways that no other dance off has ever been owned ever. Frank was grooving, throwing down the vogue and breaking out a semi-robot with a level of dexterity that should be impossible in a man of his advanced years, and using the timeless amateur's dance move of excessive pointing to such great effect that it brought a standing ovation from the ecstatic crowd. The noise Frank's dancing generated was the loudest thing since Darryl Dawkins's suit, and Frank's sheer excellence stole the show of an already impressive evening. Frank was so good that when it came to voting, the other two competitors were booed simply because they weren't Frank. A legend was born here tonight.

11.52: The first possession of the fourth quarter is halted after eight seconds due to a shot clock malfunction. In the two minutes or so that it took to remedy the problem, another standing O broke out, this time as Frank returned to his courtside seat carrying two handful of freebies that he had well and truly earned. Frank, you've bettered all of our lives, and I thank you.

The long pause also saw the first Mexican Wave of the night. I am not familiar with the degree of usage of the wave in America, if there's any at all, but here's how it works in Britain; if you sit 20,000 people together in a circle, then in accordance with prophecy, they'll do the wave. It's the rules. It works, too, as the noise level is raised considerably whenever a wave is in operation. And when the inevitable boos ring out accompany the breakdown of the wave, everyone's a winner.

11.52 - 06.38: Some basketball related activity also happened in the fourth quarter, but it wasn't pretty. The Bulls scored 3 points in the first 3 minutes of the quarter, on 3 free throws, with three turnovers and no field goals. Their lineup at the time was Hunter, Byars, Johnson, Gibson and Miller; to say that Lindsey Hunter killed the offense does not do it enough justice. Del Negro called a timeout at the 8.40 mark (doing his usual walk in the process), took out Hunter for Pargo and Miller for Noah, but it changed nothing; the Bulls next two offensive possessions consisted of an unsuccessful Noah isolation, followed by another turnover.

In all this time, Utah had closed the lead, and tied it at 84 a piece on a Koufos putback. They then took the lead on a Paul Millsap pick and roll finish, at which point Del Negro made the offense worse by bringing in Chris Richard for Noah. On the next possession, Derrick Byars had had enough of the turnovers and cast up a three, helping the Bulls retake the lead at 87-86, but after another Pargo turnover at the 6.38 mark, the Bulls had turned it over on 6 of their 11 fourth quarter possessions, and made only one field goal. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't even ugly. It was hideous.

A boisterous section of the crowd starts a "Green Army" chant. Not sure why. The crowd are getting lively now, albeit in seemingly random ways.

05.14: Here's what I can't stand about Jannero Pargo; he only shoots jumpshots. There's nothing wrong with having role players, and as I always say, you can never have too many shooters. But Pargo doesn't need to be exclusively a jumpshooter. He's a quick guard, and he has a decent handle on the ball. He can use these to create spacing from a defender, and to get by them. And sometimes, he will. But even when he gets by someone, he only uses the space he created to pull up for a mid range jumpshot (an inefficient shot at the best of times, but which also gives the defender a chance to recover and challenge/block the shot). Pargo can't or won't take it into the trees; his one shot in the paint tonight came on a fastbreak layup in the first quarter, and his only other foray into the lane was late here in the fourth, as he retrieved one of his own jumpshots that Eric Maynor had blocked. He dribbled it back out instead of taking a layup. It's pretty infuriating. I can understand his need to isolate, considering the weak offensive lineup on the floor with him, but this doesn't mean it has to be a long-two fest.

On the Utah side, Kosta Koufos runs the floor well for a big man.

04.24: I have often wondered how Mexican Waves start, and now I know. Across from us, a spectator is standing at the front of the crowd, turned to face them, leading a count-in for the second wave of the night by gesticulating and shouting. It works a treat. That man makes me proud to be British.

On cue, Pargo gets by Maynor and into the lane for a short banker from 6 feet, tying the score at 93. Better. But the only reason the score is tied is because Utah's lineup of Maynor, Price, Kirilenko, Millsap and Koufos is not much stronger than the Bulls one. This isn't the most important game in the NBA's world, even if it's the most important game in mine, and the coaches have worked it accordingly.

03.01 - 01.26: Nearing the end of the game, the game becomes a free throw shooting contest. The Bulls take a 95-93 lead on a two by Johnson, Millsap ties it back up with two more, and then Noah gives the Bulls a 97-95 lead with another two. The crowd starts getting vocal on all foul shots, and there's a lot of them. Yet since there's no clearcut home team, they start getting a bit bipolar, booing the shooter before the shot and then clapping them after they make it. This happens regardless of who is shooting. Strange times.

Two good finds by Eric Maynor gives the Jazz a 99-97 lead on baskets by Kirilenko and Millsap. We're into the final two minutes now, and the tension is palpable. It's not an important game in the grand scheme of things, hence why Chris Richard is playing, but it's important for us Brits, and we're excited. We want this.

01.26: Pargo ventures into the lane and commits a charge, turning the ball over and fouling out in the process. Forget I said anything, JP. Do what you do.

01.26 - 00.25: Down the other end, Noah blocks Koufos's layup, leading to a coast to coast and-one by Johnson that gives the Bulls a 1 point lead, 100-99. Noah then blocks Koufos again, leading to another Johnson coast to coast, but he gives the ball up to Byars this time, who is fouled. Unfortunately, Byars chokes away both free throws, and Lindsey Hunter (who subbed in for Pargo) does the same thing he did earlier, committing a silly foul at the end of a half. Ronnie Price hits the two foul shots that Lindsey just gave him, and Utah goes up by 1, 101-100. Thanks Lindsey. Thanks for everything.

00.25 - 00.06: The Bulls, still rocking a Hunter/Byars/Johnson/Richard/Noah lineup, have to try and find a game winning shot from somewhere. With all the offensive ability of a Mother Teresa convention, that doesn't seem likely, and a broken play leads to an airballed Johnson corner three pointer. They get lucky, however, as the ball is deflected out of bounds in their favour, and with six seconds left they have one more chance to win.

The capacity crowd are now on edge. Teeth are clenched, armrests grabbed, prayers said, and new religions quickly embraced. The mucus lady has stopped sniffing, such is her level of excitement. And Dom still refuses to bet.

00.06: .....Then, it happened. You no doubt know of it by now; James Johnson hits the game winner as time expires, on a putback from a Byars miss, winning the game for the Bulls 102-101. If you haven't seen it, here it is;

And if you did see it, watch it again:

The game was over, the Bulls had won, the crowd went wild, and the whole endeavour was worthwhile. The previously quiet people around me whooped with joy, danced like Frank and smiled the contented smiles of people who got what they came for. Joakim Noah stuck around, milked his celebrity, threw things into the crowd (in a nice way) and endeavoured to hand slap everyone in London, and that was that. Game over. Bulls win.

I personally enjoyed the moment way more than everyone else, because I simultaneously saved some money. As the sniffly girl to my right stood up to clap the team off the court, I found my train ticket under her left foot. Good times. The night was now complete. I had seen my first ever NBA game and come out of it a better, more adjusted person. If only because of Frank.

Did I enjoy it? Absolutely. I expected a low standard of game that would dribble to an unfulfilling conclusion as both teams ran out the clock disinterested in the final score, yet I had expected to enjoy that anyway. But the fact that we got such a rousing climax and a decent standard game - plus a Bulls win - made the whole event doubly enjoyable. And saving myself seven quid by finding the train ticket was thet perfect cherry to place astride a cake of an evening. I was so excited at finding the ticket that a little bit of wee came out.

However, the night's initial euphoria eventually gave way to feelings of overriding disappointment. I, and those like me, had tasted something we wanted to sample over and over again. We have succumbed to the NBA's insistence and allowed ourselves to be teased by the provocative lapdance of one game, but now we want more. And yet that was it. That was our one shot at it. It wasn't coming back. It wouldn't be happening again.

Sure, we'll probably get a preseason game next year, and it might even feature the Bulls again (or whichever team happens to feature Deng). That would be nice. It might even be as fun as this year. But that will just dampen our pallettes once again for something more, something more that we can't have. After that one night of passion, it'll be back to a year of buffering streams, message board posts, and Associated Press releases, following the fortunes of our team and our sport while stuck behind a computer screen. From that, we'll have to get our fix and pretend to be satisfied. And for those of us who want to be more than just hardened fans, we'll be Jason Schmidt outta luck once more.

That's why the whole event was, ultimately, deeply unsatisfying. I want something that I can't have. And that never feels good.

I want basketball in Britain to be a going concern. I am English, I love England, and I love basketball, yet there is no significant kinship between the two. Basketball in England survives only as a cult, and is irrelevant to the larger goings on of the basketball world. And for reasons ranging from social enhancement to the health of our nation's youth, all the way to my own personal potential career prospects, this is a shame. Only good could come from such a unison.

The NBA's annual London pilgrimage has achieved in its every aim. The appetites of the British/English/European basketball fans are satiated and enhanced, the NBA product is promoted to great effect, and basketball in general became a national story, if only for a day. (The BBC even broadcast the game, albeit very badly, and that's some validation right there. Even my mum knew this game was on.) Everyone knew the game was taking place; thousands turned out for the game, hundreds of thousands watched it live on the TV, and millions more watched and read the news reports about it. For a week, the NBA - and, by proxy, basketball in general - was significant. And everyone in the country now knows who Lou Walding is.

Furthermore, the NBA's continuous efforts to force together the NBA and the Premiership (England's top tier football competition, and a juggernaut equivalent to that of the NBA) has paid off, as the two recently announced a mutually beneficial marketing partnership that may eventually lead to Premiership investment into British basketball teams. To top it off, the NBA and ESPN have struck a deal that will see the broadcasting of over 100 NBA games a season on our TV screens, this after having only one game a week all of last year. The facts speak for themselves; we're getting there, and the London franchise dream can no longer be offhandedly dismissed. It might work.

But it's not satisfying. Great game, great win, great fun....and yet now we have to wait a year. Ultimately, it's just not enough.