It’s Good To Be Drake 

He keeps runnin' through the 6 with no woes

By Jonathan Zalman|May 2, 2016 4:00 PM

There are times when I visit—once a place for consistent, quality sports journalism—and think about how it’s become a bit of a joke. It seems that at some point over the last few years, the website’s brass got word from higher-ups at Disney to eschew their editorial arrows away from targets like investigative, critical, or those so-called “hard-hitting” scoops, and aim instead for things like, oh, I dunno, headlines about the English Premier League or reactions of celebrities sitting courtside. Clicks and new markets and such, I guess. Because Red Sox-Yankees got stale and CTE is shhhhhhh. Drink Gatorade.

Or maybe ESPN isn’t to blame, for they simply provide the content and we, the huddled masses, click on it—a lot [1]. ESPN is conducting good business: giving the people what they want; giving the people what they don’t know they yet want but hope they will begin to think it’s what they want because they see it all the time; faux controversies; and staying loyal to advertisers, like Kobe Bryant and Michael Jordan.

Journalism in 2016. Excuse me while I get back to flipping the pages of my Mirukami. Or Tablet mag [2].

But I digress. Kinda. Because this is, in fact, about something my eyes came across over the weekend on concerning a man we’re concerned with here at Tablet, as with the rest of the American world: Drake. That’s right, just in time for the release of his latest album—good job Drake publicists!—Drizzy was a) Courtside at Game 7 of the Pacers-Raptops tilt (good job Drake publicists!) after serenading fans outside the arena who all snapgrammed [4] the performance (good job Drake publicists!), and 2) Courtside on good ‘ol, the iTunes of sports websites.

I didn’t click on it at first, on the link that promised to show me 19 seconds of “Drake fired up Raptors’ after 3-pointer.” I was alone at the time but I swear to you I cringed when I first saw it. How dare I be bothered on a cloudy Sunday to look at this young, talented, wealthy, bar mitzvahed celebrity sit courtside and root on the team he loves, and on a sports site no less? I felt angered by the fact that ESPN had the gall to put that crap in front of my eyes, as though Drake’s reaction—brought to you by Discover—to a Patrick Patterson three-point field goal midway through the 3rd quarter mattered one bit.

So I pushed down my MacBook, with its chipping silver edges, and closed the cover. I harumphed over my stove and put on the kettle. “Drake,” I said. “I’ll tell you what I think of that, Drake, stupid Drake and his stupid self, all Toronto and OVO and courtside seats and melancholy clubbangers and all.”

Within seconds I put down my piping berry tea to check again. And I clicked. I clicked that Drake link with the celerity and expertness of the champion whose title is in the field of picking up peanuts with chopsticks.

And there he was. “Let’s goooo,” a jean-jacketed Drake exclaimed as he raised his hand over his eye to signal the amount of points his—his team [5]—had team just scored. The cameras panned away. When they did I bet he swore—nothing too harsh—and swigged something warm and expensive and brown, then plopped his behind down on a cushioned seat and proceeded to text his boys down the 6, who can’t believe they get to live in his dream, our dream, my dream.

Previous: Drake Enjoys Drake at Drake Night at Toronto Raptors Tilt [5]
Drake Dedicates New Toronto Club to Bubbe and Zayde [7]

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