March. Can you believe we’re already here? It seems like the season just began and we were still squinting to see what the Phoenix Suns were going to be. How would our season play out? Expectations were low. Yet even as the team stumbled to a 1–4 start out of the gate, the vision started to flicker into focus. We began to accept who they were: a team rooted in energy, pressure, and disruption. Those are traits that have been missing for two full seasons in the Valley of the Sun.
Now it’s March. We’re
73% of the way through the season, and while there will undoubtedly be some twists and turns ahead of us, it’s always valuable to observe how you arrived at this moment in time. To appreciate part of the journey, knowing plenty of gravel lies ahead.
So here I sit, on my westward-facing back porch with a glass of whiskey in hand (one rock), and watching the sun light the sky aflame as it recedes from today. I’m pondering the lessons we’ve learned this season. About this front office. About us as fans. About these players.
The first? It’s an oldie but a goodie. Assumption makes an ass out of you and me.
There was plenty to assume when we looked at this roster entering the season. Everything Mat Ishbia attempted to accomplish in his first two and a half seasons as an owner failed miserably. So, he pivoted. It was a complete 180, if you will. Rather than continuing to pump money and aging star players into the organization, he opted to build a structure.
Sure, that structure might’ve had one too many Michigan State Spartans for people’s liking, which only added to the “Suns as a punchline” narrative. Because of this, and numerous other factors, many assumed the team would perform poorly. I’m no different, although I feel like it was more of a “let’s wait and see” approach. Still, I had the team winning just 35 games.
We found ourselves looking at numbers on a page and making assumptions based on cold data. And that can be a folly. Assumption, am I right? Assuming that a roster must meet specific height requirements or typical builds relative to positional requirements. The team didn’t have enough guys over 6’8″. They didn’t have any traditional facilitators. The team didn’t check enough boxes relative to traditional roster construction.
Some thought this team wouldn’t win 20 games. They predicted the worst season in the history of the franchise.
It’s funny how those people have either become a lot quieter or have shifted to seeking out new deficiencies to complain about. They’d rather hunt for flaws on a spreadsheet than appreciate what we’ve actually experienced on the hardwood this season.
That leads to lesson number two: enjoy the ride.
So often we get caught in the day-to-day grind of an 82-game season and fail to appreciate the holistic accomplishments occurring in real time. We allow expectation to dictate gratification. If you live in that mold, it’s hard to break free. You don’t get the opportunity to smell the proverbial roses.
I’m telling you right now, this is the season we will look back upon with the fondest memories. We’ve had our fair share of buzzer-beaters, incendiary plays, and upset wins. This team has brought genuine joy to those who have taken the time to watch. The fact that it wasn’t expected makes it that much more enjoyable.
When you’re expected to win and you do, it feels like a relief. But when you’re not supposed to win and you do? You start to build that “us against the world” mentality. In Phoenix right now, that’s exactly what it feels like. It’s spicy. It’s fun. It’s why we buy the jerseys.
The last lesson to take from this season is to never underestimate the size of the heart of a dog.
This goes back to the numbers on the page, where people think that just because you’re 6’3″, you can’t be a productive rebounder. Then you look at a player like Jordan Goodwin, and you see a guy playing way above his punching weight. The front office has astutely identified players with heart.
Heart and soul. It’s more than an Eric Church triple album. It’s what was missing in Phoenix as of late. It was easy to fall into a mode of disbelief because the team had given us no reason to believe. Perhaps that’s the final lesson: it’s okay to believe. It’s good to be positive. It’s fine to believe this team can win night after night.
Sure, it’s not going to happen every time. No team goes 82–0. But to have a true belief that your team can compete well enough to win is something to be valued, appreciated, and respected.
As we turn toward the final month and a half of the season, the games will tighten, and that belief will be tested. But regardless of what happens, we walk away from this one in good spirits. We are no longer the punchline. We are the organization other teams point to when they say they want to be like us. Other fanbases wish they had an owner who cared this much, who took care of the fans like ours does.
It just feels good not to be the laughingstock anymore. It feels good to tune into a podcast, hoping they talk about your team instead of dreading it. Perhaps I’m happy because this glass of whiskey on a pleasant March evening is hitting just right. But all things considered, it’s more than the Jameson. It’s the way this Suns team competes, the conversations they let us have, and the future looking much brighter than it did this time last year.
So, saddle up. The madness is just beginning.
