There is something profound about the flipping of that calendar from October to November, an inescapable melancholia linked suspiciously, I think, to a passage from Thoreau:

As fruits and leaves and the day itself acquire a bright tint just before they fall, so the year nears its setting. October is its sunset sky; November the later twilight.

Well said Hank, but for some of the rest of us, this same general reflection goes more like this:

Has the NBA started yet?

I'm never sure, as someone slow on the draw, but this year I resolved it would be different. I'd not only know when the NBA started; I'd watch. Pitt's DuJuan Blair was in the NBA, no? And former Panthers teammate young Sam Young as well. I liked watching those guys. I'd pay attention.

At first glance, it was painfully evident the extent to which I'd ignored pro basketball 'lo these many years. Inexplicably, I'd relegated it to that drawer in the mind with nonsensical irritants like NASCAR and Glenn Beck.

Did you know, for example, there are NBA teams named the Bobcats and the Thunder? These are terrible names. Bobcats has already been proven largely ineffective by the poor little Bobcats of Ohio U., and Thunder is just about the most benign meteorological menace out there. Most small dogs aren't even scared of thunder.

In watching many of the NBA preview shows this fall on cable, which were thick from highlights of last year's post-season, I rediscovered my original lament with this top shelf brand of basketball -- the players at this level have essentially mastered the game. Many of the fellas can dunk. Maybe you've noticed that in Sportscenter's nightly and all-daily top 10 (30 to 70 percent of which will be dunks from here until June 15). The people playing the game at this level are so big, so quick, so athletic, that based on reasonable physiological projections, the NBA will one day include no dribbling and no shooting at all. We are not 50 years away, I would estimate, from that NBA game in which someone actually jumps into the basket. Since no traveling is called anyway, players will merely carry the ball to the opposing bucket and set about the business of jumping into it.

But don't worry, Dick Vitale still won't be able to believe it.

"UNBELIEVABLE BAY-BEE!"

The only people who haven't mastered basketball at the NBA level are its officials and its rules-making arm. Take the non-existent traveling violation, since we've already mentioned it. Here is the applicable rule (seriously):

To start a dribble after establishing a pivot foot, the ball must be released from the player's hand before his pivot foot leaves the floor or he has committed a traveling violation. A player who receives the ball while moving is allowed a two count rhythm but must release the ball prior to the third step touching the floor. When ending his dribble a player may use a two count rhythm in coming to a stop, passing or shooting. A player who falls to the floor while holding the ball or while coming to a stop may not gain an advantage by rolling on the floor. A player who attempts a shot may not be the first to touch the ball if it fails to touch the backboard, rim or another player. If a player comes to a stop on the count of one when both feet are on the floor or touch the floor simultaneously, he may pivot using either foot as his pivot. If he alights with both feet he must release the ball before either foot touches the floor. If a player has one foot on the floor or lands with one foot first to the floor, he may only pivot with that foot. Once that foot is lifted from the floor to shoot or pass it may not return until the ball is released. If a player jumps off one foot on the count of one he may land with both feet simultaneously for count two. In this situation, the player may not pivot with either foot and if one or both feet leave the floor the ball must be released before either return to the floor. When a player gathers the ball he may not step consecutively with the same foot, as in a hopping motion.

So don't ask me again why they don't call traveling. They don't know what it is.

In any case, the hottest thing on the NBA's radar this year isn't the Shaq-LeBron coupling in Cleveland or Kobe's intent on a second consecutive Lakers title despite the addition of Ron (be glad you're in the upper deck) Artest. It's the new book from disgraced former official Tim Donaghy entitled Blowing the Whistle, which somehow avoided the subtitle, Or Failing To Do So Depending On My Bets That Night.

In "Whistle," excerpts of which have made the rounds in NBA suites and reportedly enjoyed some credibility, Donaghy reports that the three refs working NBA games would have a bet among themselves as to who would whistle that night's notoriously difficult superstar his first technical foul.

"After the opening tip," Donaghy writes in the excerpts on Deadspin.com, "it was hilarious as the three of us immediately focused our full intention on the intended victim, waiting for something, anything, to justify a technical foul. If the guy so much as looked at one of us and mumbled, we rang him up. Later in the referees' locker room we would down a couple of brews, eat some chicken wings, and laugh like hell."

The winning ref didn't have to tip the ball boy.

Of course, that ain't the half of it.

On second thought, what did I do with that Thoreau volume?

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