Writer’s Corner: Chuck Klosterman – “33”

*NOTE: This piece was written prior to The NBA boycott in regards to the murder of Jacob Blake. Any references to games that were scheduled for August 26 are no longer accurate nor should any sentiment be seen as trivializing these events.


One of the undervalued things about bookstores is the sense of discovery. I’m talking about those times when you’ll be rummaging around the different aisles, looking for something exciting to read. Then, you’ll find one that jumps out to you. It’s often in some fashion of display, or at least the cover turned around so that it stares out at the consumers, shouting the phrase “Buy me!” While I’m no expert on how to make a great cover, I know a good one when I see one. It calls you to come closer, demanding that you know just what it’s about.

For me, one of the most noteworthy examples of discovering a book was at a Borders that no longer exists, across the street from a Circuit City that is now some fitness gym. It was so long ago, and it was one of those spots where I made many formative purchases. I loved being there, in part because it was one of those rare two-story bookstores that made the whole thing feel like an adventure. But on this particular day, I was in the entertainment section, just looking through autobiographies and titles about various movements that vaguely interested me at the time.

Then there it was. Facing out on the shelf was a title that couldn’t help but draw you in. What was “Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs” and why was it in this bookstore? Something about the juxtaposition of that imagery fascinated me to no end, demanding that I get closer. It may have not been the first Chuck Klosterman book that I had seen on the shelves of this store, but it was the one that stayed with me, for years, until I finally bought a copy. Because, seriously, that is one hell of a title and I have to know what this book is about.

Would The Onion ever lie to you?

While I wouldn’t call myself a Klosterman obsessive, he is definitely an author that immediately spoke to me, at least in how he approached media discussion. It was surreal to think that anyone could compile humorous essays about every facet of the American experience like that, reflecting how media informed our motivations and understanding in this world. Considering that I was rich in a period where Kevin Smith (whose “Silent Bob Speaks” is another big influence on me) convinced me that I wanted to blog about media, specifically film history, it made sense that he spoke to me. 

As it stands, my clear goal in life is not necessarily to write movie reviews that say yay or nay but to understand why we like what we like. I’ve taken a psychology class, eager to find every way that our synapses tell us what is good and bad. I find studies of music in Alzheimer’s patients to be such a fascinating story, reflecting something implicit inside all of us. The way a melody can unlock memories and create emotion is something that appeals to me, and Klosterman has his own way of asking this on a more mundane and accessible way.

Today I’m revisiting “Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs” for the first time in probably eight or nine years. I remember at the time feeling impressed by his essay about Billy Joel, or how he found ways to make The Sims video game some greater metaphor for life. However, I found myself this time attracted to one essay in particular. It actually feels pretty timely when you get down to it. Midway through the anthology, he writes an essay simply titled “33.”

While never outright said in the essay, 33 is a reference to Larry Bird’s jersey number when he played for The Boston Celtics. As one of the greatest players in The NBA history, it makes sense to dedicate a whole essay to The Boston Celtics legend, though the context to which he delivers it not only reflects why he’s obsessed with the Massachusetts team. It’s how they’re a bigger symbol of American ideology, especially when compared to their rivals during the 1980s: The Los Angeles Lakers.

Before I get into that, I thought that I would add some context for the moment that this is being written. At this moment, The NBA is in the midst of their Playoffs. Most teams are finishing or have finished the first round, eagerly awaiting the next set of games to start up. For The Celtics, they achieved next round status on Sunday when playing the unfortunately deflated Philadelphia 76ers who played so badly that they fired their coach days later. 

Meanwhile, The Lakers are likely less than 24 hours from advancing. Tonight is their fifth game against The Portland Trailblazers, and patterns show that it will be a quick in and out. This makes even more sense when you realize that Trailblazer’s star player Damian Lillard has a leg injury, and he’s been their saving grace for weeks now. As much as I want to see the game go further, I accept that I’ll read the news tonight and be like “Oh hey, The Lakers have advanced.” They would be the first western team to do so, which I guess… is something.

In all honesty, nobody is predicting 2020 to be the year that The Celtics and The Lakers fight each other in the finals. Still, with both representing their dominance, it feels like a good time to look back at “33” and notice how Klosterman suggests that sports are like a broad generalization of life. By the end, he’s even comparing Boston and Los Angeles lifestyles to everything from breakfast cereal to what irresponsible rap music they would listen to. To answer the latter, Boston would represent Eminem, seeing as he’s “the only white guy who can keep up.”

That is the entry point of “33.” It’s a story of an entire decade that is represented through two basketball teams and their different approaches to operations. 

To provide some more context, Klosterman posits that the only two basketball teams that mattered during the 80s were these two. While they rarely played each other in the finals, they were the ones who always came out on top, dominating the sport with numerous championship titles that have arguably held up their credibility for decades. No matter how much you can argue that the modern Lakers are bad, they’ll cite Magic Johnson or Kareem Abdul-Jabbar as reflective of a legacy full of quality line-ups. The same can be said for The Celtics, whose only shining trait for me right now is that they have some of the best-designed uniforms and iconography in the league.

I just love how Irish it is

I am not an expert on the Bird and Johnson rivalry. I have not yet seen that 30 for 30 documentary that’s supposed to be really good. What I do know is that I’ve seen Do the Right Thing (1989) and was able to watch people walk down the street in their jerseys and understand it as this symbolism of opposing mentalities, that if they were ever stuck in the same room they would have a fight that eventually landed in fistfights. It’s never really commented on, but I’m sure that Spike Lee didn’t need to say it for it to be obvious.

On the surface, it’s Black (Lakers) versus white (Celtics). It’s liberal (Lakers) versus conservative (Celtics). The ideology goes from there with Klosterman interviewing Pat Riley about The Celtics only to discover that he’s been lecturing the team on what the team’s name means. Given that it goes back to the 15th century, it shows how committed they are to some spiritual aura that has been passed on generation to generation and that The Celtics need to use it to keep their forefathers proud. 

Compare that to The Lakers, themselves a transplant team from Minneapolis that sounds stupid when you realize that Los Angeles is a desert city and its “river” spends most of the year dried up (The Los Angeles Clippers are no better, as they’re named for boats). Still, you can’t help but love the enthusiasm of the fans, the fact that Johnson is an incredible player who could make the ball disappear. If you have some time, watch a montage of him passing the ball and you’ll be amazed at how unexpected some of those passes are. I’m sure Bird was a great player, but he was nowhere near as fun to watch.

At the heart of things, Klosterman is talking about how this is necessary in the identity of the man, needing to have something to be loyal to. It gives your life purpose, and I fully understand that appeal. While I haven’t had any experience of watching sports in real-time that is even close to this, I do love the spontaneity. It’s the idea that somehow an ideology will win if they make this one basket, go to the free-throw line, and give that boastful dance as they head to the other end of the court. They know they got it, and in a lot of ways, it’s the most innocent way of determining who’s the best. 

Over the course of the essay, it’s a story not only of watching a sport and feeling different companionships. It’s how it informs a part of your identity. Even his humorous look into what cereal the different fans eat reflects something granular about human identity. That’s what makes America great. It’s that so many different ways of looking at things can exist in the same space. Even if Klosterman jokes that Celtics fans are probably ugly, he comes from a place of love. By now, it’s no longer about the 80s. It’s about loyalty decades later, even right now when The Celtics probably crashed a nearby pub for celebration drinks – COVID-19 be damned.

I doubt that I could ever be a great sportswriter. I could never spew facts like Klosterman does in this article, managing to use stats that he is constantly arguing with. What I am is someone who loves watching the action, the way players have this ability to turn a game around at unexpected moments. To me, it’s more about the immersion in something that could change at any moment. The fact that the Johnson and Bird rivalry continues to endure is in part because of their greatness, but also because they weren’t always finalists. They just happened to dominate in different ways, and you kept hoping this year would be theirs.

What I can say is that there is something to humanizing the experience. By taking away the clinical details, it allows me to feel like I’m there, sitting on the couch with him as he explains Bird’s greatness on a TV. That is what I hope to achieve as a writer, to create experiences that are carried throughout the years and remind audiences of what it felt to be alive at that moment. Again, I’m not the best when it comes to the minutiae, but I can tell you what has made The NBA in 2020 such a bizarre time to be alive, or (and this one hurts) why The New Orleans Pelicans were a letdown in the bubble.

I’m sure that I would’ve discovered Klosterman eventually if I never went to that bookstore. It may have been years. If his interview segments in Shut Up and Play the Hits (2012) didn’t do it for me, I’m sure one of his endless interviews would’ve done something. He seems like an eloquent guy and so full of passion that makes me excited to read any piece he publishes. The fact that he reminds me why basketball is great without making it seem like an ancient relic is admirable. I’d like to believe The Memory Tourist will publish stuff like that in my own personal way. Time will tell on that one. 

I just wish that I didn’t have to deal with The Lakers after tonight.