2016 was a year full of promise, intrigue, and hopefulness. We came in hot. The economy was on an upswing. The Warriors had just capped off the best calendar-year record ever recorded (72-12 from Jan. 1, 2015 to Dec. 31st, 2015). But then, somewhere along the way, things went horribly, irreversibly wrong.
Recently, someone in our #slack room posted this video. It’s fitting, sad, and timely.
Nate immediately commented, “Umm...I would pay money to see that movie on New Year's Eve ...” Which, yeah. I would too (were I not about to get on a m’fing boat and watch these San Francisco fireworks with my wife, my sister, and her boyfriend).
2016 sucked. There’s no two ways to say it. 2016 was a firestorm of horribleness. 2016 was like a shark that bites off your face but then defecates in your shoe just for good measure. 2016 was a streaker on a baseball field with a disgusting, jiggly beer belly. 2016 was a black hole that opened up into the depths of the universe and proved that there is, in fact, no higher power behind the scenes pulling strings. 2016 was the Wizard of Oz, except his face was a distorted video of Mark Jackson’s wife singing the national anthem.
2016 opened me up, stuffed me full of nightmares, and sewed me back together to face another year, with full knowledge of the procedure.
I really thought the Warriors blowing a 3-1 lead in the Finals would be the worst thing that happened. I mean, putting up with this type of thing was really, really annoying.
[Note: The Indians never won another game after Ohio-poster-boy-LeBron pulled that crap.]
But there’s a huge difference between being annoyed about a sports thing, and worrying that we are on the precipice of an unprecedented worldwide collapse.
Brexit, this past election, the literal rise of Nazis, Russian spies casually chilling in Long Island and nobody cared. I’m sitting here on a beautiful California morning, visiting my father in gorgeous San Francisco, shaking my head in disgust and anger.
2016 was filled with unnecessary, terrifying, racially driven police slayings. 2016 was filled with protest, and with sad resignation. 2016 inspired the New York Times to publish a piece titled, “2016: Worst. Year. Ever?” and no one even batted an eye.
But, whatever. In the wise words of Taylor, I’m gonna try and shake it off.
Tonight, I’m gonna get on a boat and watch some fireworks. I’m going to hug my wife, and remember that I’ve got it pretty good. I’m going to celebrate the fact that the Warriors finished 72-12 for the second calendar year in a row in 2016, and not dwell on Game 7. I’m going to remember that my favorite team signed Kevin Freaking Durant during the offseason. I’m going to drink some champagne and giggle when the bubbles hit my brain. I’m going to howl into the frigid bay wind and remember that it’s a blessing to be alive. I’m going to watch the world hurtle towards an uncertain future and fling my vitriol into the void, hoping that it leaves me as sand drains from the hourglass.
Because what other choice do I have?
Regardless of how 2017 pans out, on this last day of the year, let me say:
Suck it 2016, you were horrible.
Now show me where this dang boat is.