The first thing I notice about Las Vegas isn’t the lights, although they’re bright, or the heat, although its 120 degrees — it’s the noise. The incessant jangling of slots, the music thumping from invisible speakers, and the din of excited conversation. Not only was this my first trip to NBA Summer League; it was my first trip to Vegas ever.
It’s July 11th, I’ve just landed flying in from Pittsburgh by way of Denver. As my silent cab driver drops me off at Planet Hollywood, I’m officially in Las Vegas. If you know nothing about me, which I imagine is almost everyone reading this, this trip wasn’t just about going to Summer League. It was also about meeting with my podcast co-hosts from our pod First to the Floor. I think one differentiating factor of our show separating it amongst the plethora of Celtics and basketball pods, is that we do it from opposite corners of the world, none of which are Boston, or even New England. I’m stationed in West Virginia, while Ben and Jake are Australians. And they aren’t just “from” Australia. They currently live there.
Suffice to say, we don’t get a lot of opportunities to meet, even Ben and Jake live in different parts of Australia (apparently, they have states too, who knew?). In fact, I’d only ever met Ben in person once, when we went to the 2022 NBA Finals together, and Jake I’d never met. There’s a unique feeling that comes with meeting two people in-person that you’ve spoken to endlessly over the internet. A giddy excitement to see two people that I would consider very good friends at this point, mixed with a tinge of anxiety around seeing them in 3 dimensions instead of 2. I never thought a highlight of my 37th year on Earth would be meeting my internet friends, but welcome to 2024.
After I drop my bags off at my hotel room (incurring a $28.00 early check-in fee, welcome to Vegas), I start the search for somewhere to wait. Ben’s just landed after a 20+ hour journey and needs time to gather himself before meeting with me. Jake’s due to land around 6 pm. It’s this set of circumstances that leads me to Cabo Wabo.
Apparently, Cabo Wabo is a tequila brand. The bar feels like somewhere sunburned middle-aged folks would congregate at Myrtle Beach, a scene I’m not unfamiliar with. The bartender is pierced and tattooed, chatty, but not overly. We bond over mouthing the lyrics to Rage Against the Machine’s “Guerilla Radio” at the same time, a head nod of respect.
Time is just a suggestion in Vegas, but about halfway through margarita #3, I hear the familiar Aussie-twinged “Spooney!” from behind me. Ben has arrived.
I turn around, get out of my seat, and we execute a slightly awkward but wholly earnest dap/hug combination. We commiserate about our excitement for Summer League and Jordan Walsh (didn’t age well) and conclude with how much we love our kids after 20 minutes of complaining about them. We are off to a bar call Beer Park, where we have a drink and some wings as the Vegas sun creeps closer to the horizon.
Then it’s off to the Paris Casino where Ben loses an undisclosed amount in under 30 minutes. Time melts away and, as Janos would say, “whiskey is pour.” Then a text comes through. It’s time to meet Jake out front. The congregation complete.
Hugs are had, Jake mentions that it’s weird seeing me in the flesh (I think, it’s all a bit hazy by that point), I comment that I am actually real, not totally believing it at that point. We gamble for a while; Ben records a 10-minute conversation between Jake and I about the best starting Pokémon (we agree that its Squirtle). At some point we head to bed; all of our pockets just a bit lighter. Summer League officially starts tomorrow.
Jake (also staying at Planet Hollywood) and I meet Ben at the Aria where he is staying. We snag an Uber to the Thomas & Mack Center. It’s a modern venue not all that different from TD Garden, the jerseys of UNLV legends like Larry Johnson and Stacey Augmon adding to the hallowed nature of the proceedings.
We quickly learn that the beauty of Summer League is that the games are played at the Thomas & Mack and Cox Pavilion, which are attached. $45 to get in the door and then it’s all you can consume basketball until late into the night.
The first thing we hear when entering Thomas & Mack, even above the din of conversation, is the squeaking of sneakers on the hardwood. I dare someone to find a better sound than that — the basketball equivalent of Symphony Number 9. There’s an exclamatory cheer: someone must have dunked. I can feel the anticipation building, but first we stop off at aconcession stand.
Ben and I have the first of a series of beer-related miscommunications and we end up with 5 beers instead of 3. We persevere and find some excellent seats in the first row of the balcony.
Our introductory game is Timberwolves-Pelicans. It’s unremarkable other than Jake commenting on how many shots Jordan Hawkins is taking and missing (6/23 by game’s end), and me cheering for Jesse Edwards, who went to my alma mater of West Virginia University and who also promptly gets dunked on when he enters the game. Then, the real show starts.
Game 2 is the Los Angeles Lakers against the Houston Rockets. There are multiple interesting storylines at play here. For Houston, we’re giddy that Cam Whitmore is inexplicably playing, and excited to get a first glimpse at Reed Sheppard, 3rd pick in the draft. The heavy Lakers crowd (Vegas is a very short flight and an easy drive from LA) are here for one man: Bronny James.
There’s a massive cascade of cheers every time Bronny makes a shot in warmups. The Lakers fans are living and dying with Bronny. At one point, still in warmups, he tries to throw himself an alley-oop. It fails spectacularly, the Lakers fans audibly groan, and I can’t contain the guffaw that erupts from my mouth. As a LeBron hater, I have nothing against Bronny, but it’s difficult to separate father from son and I’m a bad person. The Lakers fan sitting next to us doesn’t appreciate it.
The Lakers crowd gives the game an electric atmosphere. Every Dalton Knecht three is met with raucous cheers; every Cam Whitmore dunk uncomfortable silence. Whitmore quickly establishes he’s way too good for Summer League, and Bronny quickly establishes he should have stayed another year (or two) at USC.
I won’t sugar coat it; we are watching a brutal game from James. The Lakers fans start loudly groaning for every missed Bronny jumper. It’s raw, uncut schadenfreude for Celtics fans.
At some point in the fourth quarter, the impossible happens. I start to feel bad for Bronny James. While he’s had every advantage that life can provide you, it’s still very difficult to watch someone struggle that loud. It wasn’t even just loud, it was cacophonously.
But the real highlight is Reed Sheppard. Reed is a 6’3” guard out of Kentucky. He was obviously highly rated after going 3rd in the draft, but what we are witnessing is the Shep-show. If you are primarily a Celtics fan and/or didn’t pay attention to Summer League, you are missing out.
Reed flashes it all. Absurd passing vision, quick defensive hands, and the shooting,
Oh baby, the shooting. I liked Sheppard as a prospect, but I didn’t anticipate this, especially in his first professional game. He doesn’t just look like he belongs. He’s making everyone else look like they don’t. There is no greater crowd sound than the “oooohhhhh” a player generates when he pulls off something truly nasty. Sheppard generated about a handful of those in his first game. It was intoxicating, or perhaps that was the beer. Either way, we were having fun.
After that game ends, we bounce around the building a bit, take a peek at Cox, and then settle in at Thomas & Mack for the big showdown with the number 1 pick versus number 2 pick. Zaccharie Risacher and Alex Sarr, can you fell the EXCITEMENT?
The fans in Vegas very much don’t feel the excitement. The crowd has palpably thinned after the Hawks and Wizards get under way with the Lakers fans leaving in shame. I disclose to Ben and Jake that I really like Alex Sarr as a prospect, which will come back to haunt me later. Risacher actually looks pretty solid in his early minutes and Alex Sarr is big, which can be helpful — not for him — but for some players.
It’s a pretty uneventful game although we all agree that Bub Carrington looked good. We end up heading back to the Strip sometime in the third quarter. The plan is to meet up with a few other CelticsBlog folks and go from there. First, however, we record and episode of the podcast in Ben’s hotel room.
We end up finding the Celticsblog crew, putt around the Aria for a bit, before ultimately settling in to grab burgers. We have a nice chat, headlined by everyone ganging up on Jack Simone for his take that Payton Pritchard is better than TJ McConnell. We all decide it’s best to call it an early night because tomorrow the real fun begins. The Celtics play.
Part 2 coming soon.
