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By Jon Weidman

Fuck the Brooklyn Nets because ever since “Jay-Z brings an NBA team to Brooklyn” became the world’s fakest headline, everyone seems to love this stupid team.

Fuck the Brooklyn Nets because who are these people who love the team? Culture vultures, gentrifiers, and milquetoast assholes looking for something to latch on to.

Fuck the Brooklyn Nets because not only fuck their fans, but fuck the very idea of them having fans.

Fuck the Brooklyn Nets because it is totally emotionally impossible to be a “true” fan of a sports team while having zero personal history with said team. A true fan-team bond does NOT happen in one season — it requires lots of shared trials, tribulations, and the survival of at least one rock-bottom moment (or, in the case of the Knicks, one rock-bottom decade).

Fuck the Brooklyn Nets because in theory, there should be no such thing as a “Brooklyn Nets fan,” aside from the few desperately forgiving souls in New Jersey that have followed the franchise for some credible slice of its forty-six years.

Fuck the Brooklyn Nets because why would any self-respecting New Jersey fan follow a shitty, aging, boring roster of players recruited specifically on name recognition to hype up a new set of fans into forgetting that this team ever existed in another time or state?

Fuck the Brooklyn Nets because Chris Christie said so, I guess.

Fuck the Brooklyn Nets because no one likes New Jersey fans, but have you seen the hypebeasty hoard in and around downtown Brooklyn? It is truly an awful fucking mish-mash of basketball-retarded transplants looking for a flag to plant in their precious new borough, and rich guys with no taste who think blind enthusiasm for the team’s painstakingly manufactured hip-hop cachet and cursory awareness of whatever Jay Z has become creates some rough approximation to credible fandom.

Fuck the Brooklyn Nets because I’ve never witnessed crushing and insufferable indifference in a crowd quite like what you see at Barclays Center on an average NBA night. An empty first quarter arena gives way to a chattering crowd of trustfunders and trendhumpers, more interested in the smattering of overpriced food, and whatever resident DJ has been conscripted to distract from the total lack of a natural crowd-noise soundtrack. Instead, the crowd tends to incessantly gawk at a particular presence on the sideline…

Fuck the Brooklyn Nets because they are the crown jewel in Jay Z’s now half-decade long con on the American public. He pretended to own the team, pretended to have some substantive role in securing the arena beyond “PR stooge,” and continues to be a consistent sunglasses-indoors presence on the sideline alongside his hilariously disinterested wife. Here are my thoughts on you Jay Z: IF YOU LOVE BASKETBALL SO MUCH, HOW ARE YOU NOT A DIEHARD LIFELONG KNICKS FAN? HOW DID YOU AVOID BECOMING ONE FOR FORTY YEARS? AND IF YOU WERE A KNICKS FAN, HOW COULD YOU SWITCH LOYALTIES SO QUICKLY FOR A PAIR OF FUCKING SEASON TICKETS? YOU ARE A TOTAL FRAUD, AND EMBODY EVERYTHING ABOUT THE NETS FANBASE. PLUS YOU LIVE IN TRIBECA NOW. I SEEN YOU, JAY. I SEEN YOU.

Fuck the Brooklyn Nets, but it’s going to be fun to watch them get swept by the Miami Heat.

Wait. Shit. Fuck the Miami Heat and their shitty fans, too.

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