Duane Murray
May 22nd, 2006

The Breath’s inaugural blog, and why I’m not writing it.

So this is it.  Official inclusion.  After years of hanging out in the back of The Breath.com, Jordan and Shane (and myself), have seen it fit to bring me to the forefront in this operation we’re running here.  And it’s about time.

Now to be fair, I think the option was always there for me, I just felt a little silly asserting myself.  And for good reason.  First of all, Jordan and Shane did start this little thing on their own, without me.  And over time, what started as a fun little place where artists could share their work, became a small company that Jordan and Shane actually made their livings on.  And congrats to them.  I, chasing a dream, which I still seem to be chasing, always took the less committed approach, giving my two cents worth here and there on certain projects, but never really investing myself.  Even when contributing financially to “the company” I still managed to find myself in the back, wondering why this little thing was growing, but without me.  People would come and go, and I was always there, not participating, but still thinking I deserved it.  And Shane often opened the door, which I promptly closed.  Well now, it’s crunch time.  Shane talked to me about he and Jordan “streamlining” The breath and bringing it back to it’s roots…  Essentially he and Jordan, and again generously offering me a place within those ranks.

I promptly refused.  Again.

I felt silly.  Shane has plenty to put up on this site.  Music, photo’s, services.  Jordan is the same.  I have nothing.  I have nothing to offer.  I have a demo real and a few short films I did with Shane, and I suppose I could take a few photo’s, but really, there is no reason for me to be doing this.

So how did I end up being on this site with my own little section and everything?  Well, that goes back to high school and a story involving a road trip to Montreal to see Los Lobos and one of the worst times I’ve had in my life, which I will delve into another time as I am sure there will be a more relevant opportunity to tell that story.

The point is, I am here, and should be using this opportunity to get deep and talk about beginnings, or turning points or something like that.  Instead I am not writing anything at all, and it seems to have a little something to do with endings…

Tonight, at 8pm eastern standard time, the Dallas Mavericks will be in San Antonio, to face the Spurs in an all important game 7 which will determine who will advance to the Western Conference finals.  Who they will face will be determined in a similar situation in Phoenix, where the L.A. Clippers will attempt to do the same.  Four teams fate’s will be sealed.  Two continue on in this storyline and two will face the fate of their own season finale’s surprise death.

And so for this reason I will not be writing an opening blog.  Instead I will be yelling at the television and complaining about the officiating and wondering why Elton Brand gets away with everything, while Chris Bosh can’t look the other way without getting called for a travel.  But I accept it, and I watch.  And why?  Because most basketball fans assume the wonderful game of basketball is a little fixed.

We all (especially those of us North of the border) know that the draft lottery is probably fixed.  I mean we in Toronto (and the now Memphis, but once Vancouver Grizzlies) sat and watched while the NBA created a new rule where expansion teams couldn’t attain anything higher than a fourth pick for their first three years…  This rule was of course not in place for Orlando’s acquiring of Shaq, nor was it around anymore when the Bobcats selected Omeka Okafur. 

We all accept that the league wants the big market teams to advance in the playoffs, therefore taking in the maximum television revenue, and we all accept that certain players are going to get preferential treatment for absolutely no valid reason.  (I think Allen Iverson wears that arm band, not for protection, but so the so-called refs can actually not blow the whistle, when in a crowd, they clearly see that arm pushing off an innocent defender.)

I am not saying the games are decided before tip off, but there are definitely manipulations at play here.  And to quote Chuck Klosterman, “that is why the NBA remains the only game that matters:  Pro basketball is exactly like life.”

But alas, most of you don’t care. (is anyone even reading this?)  So tune in next week where I will either have a short story, or a quirky observation, or another one of these excuses for not writing something.  Most likely it will have to do with my new girlfriend.  Stay tuned…

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