A few years back when the Lakers were playing the Celtics on Christmas, the telecast opened with some cinematic footage of Kevin Garnett walking on the beach coupled with his voice narrating what were supposed to be his deep thoughts. I don’t remember what he said, other than the fact that he ended his monologue with the words, “Shoot, that’s kind of like life.” Whatever was like life, it was clear that Kevin’s heroics on the court inspired in him a vast feeling of connectedness to the universe, likely experiencing satori after having good game. Or maybe just by walking on freezing cold sand in Massachusetts during the winter.

At the end of the clip, the analysts were sitting there smiling like they had won the big war, and I actually expected them to be smoking cigarettes and leaning on each other since they appeared so drained and yet elated from the experience of watching the video. One of them addressed the viewing audience at home by saying, “If you didn’t get chills from that, you don’t have a pulse.”

I didn’t get chills, or even feel anything but turned off, and so was horrified to learn that I was a therefore the walking dead. I watched the rest of the game wondering why no one ever told me this before.