I grew up in New Jersey (Flashes Hackettstown Gang Sign, which resembles a man tipping over a cow), so I have a soft spot in my heart for the Nets. That soft spot is held primarily by the pity I felt for them growing up as I would walk by their merchandise shops and see the jerseys of their "stars" belonged to Derrick Coleman and Yinka Dare. Eesh.
What they don't have in consistently entertaining basketball, the Nets make up for in dancers. Every dancer in the tri-state area that was unwilling to sleep with Isiah Thomas or scarf down philly cheesesteaks with Andy Reid-esque fat guys got booted to New Jersey, so many fans are treated to some great cheerleaders. Sure, they may be terrorized by an A.D.D. patient in Vince Carter, but that is a small price to pay to not have Stephon Marbury offering you tours of the inside of his car.
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