One time, during a random Nets game we were at a few years ago, Caris LeVert was at the free-throw line, and the place was so empty and quiet that you could hear a lady scream AYY LEVERT!!!! before he released his shot. Her voice echoed throughout the arena, and it didn’t sound like a random person, it sounded like a woman whom LeVert had wronged in some way.
At that same game, there was probably one person in the entire place that actually cared about the outcome. He was rocking a New Jersey Nets Brook Lopez jersey, and was living and dying with every basket. The Nets blew a last-minute lead to Portland in some longshot way; he crumbled; his girlfriend didn’t want to be there.
Another time, for a 7 p.m. tip, we bought tickets at 6:30 p.m. for a little over $10. The Nets were playing the Clippers, and Paul Pierce hit a few 3s. That was cool.
Even during their worst days, Barclays always had, and probably will still have, an honestly pretty annoying DJ. The Nets would be sucking. The place would be empty. And quiet. Except for that DJ, playing Jay-Z songs or generic pump-up music, imploring the few people in the arena to MAKE SOME NOISEEEEEEE. Crickets.
Obviously, the PR staff didn’t have much to sell in the post-2013 trade world. Among the one-liners: Brooklyn, We Go Hard; We are Brooklyn; Hello Brooklyn; Brooooook-lin. Considering the players they were working with, it was a valiant effort, but no one was getting misty-eyed from memories of the Brooklyn Dodgers.
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