Before every game, I turn my head slowly in the direction of Drake's courtside seats, hoping.
For several long weeks now, I've spotted nothing but a great emptiness. And then I hear the wind.
Where is Drake? Don't tell me he's gone sour, too.
It seems like after spending several months simply loving the Raptors, we've moved to that very Toronto stage of fandom – worrying ourselves sick about the Raptors. Why doesn't DeMar DeRozan look right yet; and is Kyle Lowry dropping off; and why hasn't Amir Johnson had his knees replaced, and shouldn't they trade Terrence Ross immediately?
It's January. The team's won 30 games before the all-star break for the first time in its history. And, of course, everybody wants to get well ahead on their speculative doom-saying. This isn't basketball's fault. It's the Toronto Maple Leafs' fault. That franchise's ability to poison all the world's happiness has begun to bleed into adjacent sports, like some malign osmosis.
Driven by remarkable three-point shooting (a diminishing return lately), the Raptors lapped the Sacramento Kings 119-102 on Wednesday night. That's four wins in a row. The speed wobble around Christmas appears to be over. The Raptors are cruising again at high velocity.
This should have been a bogey game. Toronto was on a home-and-away back to back. After a snow day in New York, the Kings hadn't played in nearly a week.
When Sacramento's Rudy Gay was introduced, the crowd mumbled indifferently. This isn't just wrong – it's unjust. All season long, the team has been feting marginal former Raptors like astronauts just returned from a mission to Mars. Few of them mattered. By comparison, Gay may be the most important ex-Raptor in team history. His greatest act on behalf of the franchise? Leaving. He should get a yearly ticker-tape parade – to which he is never invited.
Later – once they'd realized he'd sneaked back into the building – the crowd began to viciously boo him. Oh, Toronto. You're as changeable as a New York weather forecast, and just as frequently wrong. Save your boos for Andrea Bargnani. They're his last reminder that he's still in the NBA.
Gay and Bargnani are the reminders of a time when you came to the Air Canada Centre to suffer. Things are better now, but it's sometimes hard to tell.
One of the side effects of success is that it's made every Raptors extra a cult hero.
When those supporting cast members are marginalized for a game or two or three, the sky begins to fall.
Why isn't James Johnson playing more?! (Because he's in a DeMar DeRozan-shaped space in the lineup.)
Why doesn't Jonas Valanciunas feature in the fourth quarter?! (Because they don't trust him, and they're winning without him.)
Why won't Lou Williams shoot until he shatters the backboard?! (He's trying. Oh Lord, how he is trying.)
Johnson in particular has vanished lately. He's a formidable physical presence, and a nice story. Somehow, in his absence, he's been blown up into a player of Herculean stature. He isn't. He's exactly where he belongs – the seventh or eighth guy on a pretty good team. Three years ago, Johnson couldn't deal with that reality, and was shipped out of Toronto as a result. He didn't get any better in the interim. Instead, he got smarter. He's accepted where he stands in the professional pecking order, making him a valuable piece. You won't hear the new Johnson complain because he's taken a long look into the pit. He'd rather stay where he is.
The only people complaining about his minutes are the professional worriers in the media, and related obsessives. It's become a nightly pregame theme – someone trying to recalibrate the question, 'Why isn't James Johnson playing?' Coach Dwane Casey shrugs it away every time, but you can tell it's starting to bug him.
The players aren't grumbling – not out loud. The coaches spend a significant amount of time checking in on each individual, and adjusting his expectations.
"It's not a science," said Casey. "It's just working with people … It's telling them the truth, where a lot of times they don't hear the truth."
One of the beauties of Casey is that while he's a gentle soul, he will not waste one neuron's worth of worry on a professional athlete's feelings. Like all successful mentors at this level, he is fundamentally ruthless. He'll help you exactly as much as you're willing to help yourself.
"Coach [Phil] Jackson used to say it's Zen," Casey said, referring to man management and rotations. He said it with the very slightest hint of a sneer. "It's Zen if you have Michael Jordan and a young Kobe Bryant."
Touché.
The Raptors have found a mix that works. It's not world-beating, and never will be. But it's more than good enough to win them the division, and get them comfortably into the playoffs.
There's no point in getting all wrung out until then. It'd be a shame to fret our way through what should be the most unironically joyful stretch in 20 years.
Cathal Kelly