[Editor's note: This is obviously one observer's perspective. In part his hopes have been realized as Phish will be taking some time off in 2000. Nonetheless if you wish to offer a counterpoint, please contact us, jambands@jambands.com]

I like watching professional basketball. A lot. So much so, in fact, that I was depressed for weeks last year upon learning that due to a strike the NBA season was going to be postponed indefinitely. I mean, where else was I to turn for my daily source of excitement? What was I to do with my Sunday afternoons once the Super Bowl was over? What would become of my annual fantasy league draft? It seemed that the questions and frustrations just kept on mounting. About the only thing I was thankful for was that I wouldn't have to hear Bill Walton's commentary for a while (I don't care if he IS a deadhead, he is still the most annoying person of all time). Those first few weeks of life without basketball were really difficult simply realizing that I was being denied one of my favorite pleasures in life for no good reason. Before long, my frustration turned to anger directed at both the owners as well as the players. I didn't care whose fault the strike was, all I knew is that I missed watching the games. After a while, though, I had resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't be sharing in any NBA excitement for quite some time. I would have to try and make the best of it. I just hoped the strike wouldn't last for too long.

That being said, flash back in time with me for a moment. The date: December 11, 1995. The place: Cumberland County Civic Center in Portland, Maine. The band on stage: Phish. I had seen these guys a few times before, and though I thought they were O.K., I couldn't for the life of me figure out why all my friends were obsessed with them. I mean, after all, they're just four guys in a rock band, right? And that's when it happened. It was midway through the 2nd set when out of nowhere Trey tells everyone in the audience that he needs a favor from us. He said the band is planning to record an album consisting of nothing other then different versions of the song Dog Log, and they need us to help record some crowd reactions. After playing the song a couple of times, Trey thanks the crowd for their participation and announces that they will now play "One of our most requested songs that we never play", at which point the band breaks into a fine rendition of Tube. It was during this set where I got the musical hose for the first time, and finally understood why my friends had been so persistent that I listen to the hundreds of Phish tapes they constantly had laying around. Now for those of you who don't know what this means, the hose is an allegorical term used to describe the total elation you undergo upon reaching the point of complete amazement at what is transpiring on stage. It's as if the band is spraying you with their magical sound. And on that particular night, at that particular place, oh man how I was hosed. And not just a sprinkle, mind you. I was so drenched that my clothes wouldn't dry for weeks. Right then and there I knew in my heart that I would have to see as many Phish shows as I could for the rest of my life, as this band was the greatest thing to come into my life since, well,…. ever. So, true to my word, I started going to as many shows as I could possibly afford. I was lucky enough to see 51 shows from 1995-1998, and got hosed several more timed during that span (particularlytrade those memories for anything in the world.

Now, flash forward (This is the last time you'll have to flash anywhere, I promise): The date: June 30, 1999. The place: Sandstone Ampitheatre in Bonner Springs, Kansas. The band on stage: Phish. It was once again midway through the 2nd set when the band broke into Swept Away>Steep, easily the worst song(s) to come out of Billy Breathes. By this point in the show I was already pretty upset at what I was hearing. After sacrificing an incredible amount to get to this venue, I had thus far witnessed a mediocre 1st set, a Squirming Boil 2nd set opener, and now I had to deal with this. After the encore of both Bouncin' and Sample I made another decision. I was going to take a break from seeing Phish shows for a while, as the music was not as special to me as it once was. Whereas before every note I heard was pure bliss, and I walked away from most shows feeling, or rather knowing, that there was absolutely no place I'd rather have been (no, not even Tennessee), lately I had not been experiencing anything close to that. In fact, after each show I saw this past year, the reactions I had been left with had been growing more and more critical and I had been left feeling way less satisfied musically. It seemed to me that Phish were tired. The energy was definitely lacking, and they didn't appear to be having any fun up on stage. In short, they needed a break. A long break.

So I made a promise to myself that I would stop seeing shows for a while until I could get over this jaded hump I appeared to be stuck at. After that Kansas show, I must have run into 30 people who felt the same way as me. I t was great to talk to people who appeared to be sharing my frustration. We had become too critical of the music, and it was not fair to the band, the other fans, and to ourselves to continue seeing shows if we kept failing to reach "that" point. The general consensus was that it would be good to take a break, and that when we started going to shows again, everything would be so fresh and alive that we wouldn't find anything to complain about. However, it's one thing to say you're going to stop seeing Phish for a while, and it's another thing to actually do it. And guess what? I ran into several of these people at my next show, Alpine Valley about a month later. "What happened to the pact?" I asked. "Well, you're here also, aren't you"? I was answered. And it's true. I was.

See, I have this theory that Phish is like marijuana. The first time you smoke marijuana, what happens? If you're honest, nothing. (If you're trying to be cool, you might pretend that you're feeling something, but deep down you know you're not). Kind of like your first Phish show. Very few people "get it" the first time they experience live Phish. But what happens the first time you actually get high from smoking? Well, it depends. Words really can't explain the way you start to feel. Let's just say that you begin to realize certain things for the first time in your life. Now what happens the more you smoke? Your body begins to build up a tolerance. It takes more to get you high. Those one or two hits just won't do it anymore. It gets harder and harder to reach the point of extreme jubilation which seemed to be so much easier to attain before. It's the same with Phish. At the beginning, it's so easy to get high, to reach the point of total ecstasy. But before too long you begin to build up a tolerance, only this time it's not really physical, as it's in your soul. You realize you need a more potent blend of music to get to "that" point. It starts slowly at first. Maybe that Possum encore or Tube opener doesn't get you dancing quite as hard as you know you've danced in the past. Then maybe it's "Oh man, I just heard 2001 three shows ago." Before you know it, you're bitching about more than half the songs you hear on any given night. Now admittedly I'm stretching this correlation a little here, but hopefully you understand the general point that I'm trying to make. That the more you experience something, be it music or marijuana, the more ordinary it starts to become.

That being said, let's go back to what I was saying before, about meeting up with the people at Alpine who said they were going to take a break. You see, like drugs, Phish are very hard to stop taking once you've reached that point of addiction. You may be able to limit your involvement, but to actually cut off all ties is near impossible. That is why it made me so happy when I heard about Trey's recently announced decision that the band would be taking a year off after next summer. With that declaration, Trey took away my choice. Would I have stopped going to shows had the band not made the decision to stop touring? Probably not. But the fact that I am now forced to stop is surely a blessing in disguise. And the same can most likely be said for the thousands of other fans out there that feel that the band may be coming to a standstill. Just think about how much more you'll appreciate the shows this summer knowing they could be your last for quite some time. Every note the band plays will be treasured, because who knows how long it will be before your next Phish show? I bet very few people will complain about hearing too many Guyute's or Heavy Things, because pretty soon we won't be able to hear anything at all.

And let's not forget that the same sentiments can be said of the band as well. They are probably just as equally burned out. There's a reason that 1999 contained very few great shows sandwiched in between several mediocre ones. There's a reason the band hasn't played a Forbin's or Harpua in well over a year, including 2 NYE runs. There's a reason several people have been noticing the tension between Mike and Trey on stage at times. Phish need a break from the fans and from each other just as badly as we need a break from them. And after all the negativity from every angle surrounding the recent December tour, both at the shows and in the reviews posted, they could not have picked a better time for a well-deserved vacation.

There's probably one obvious question still on your mind, however, and that is what the hell does all this have to do with basketball? After all, this is supposed to be a magazine about music, not sports. The answer is simple. Remember what I said about being forced to take a break from watching basketball? Well, as most of you probably know, the NBA season ended up being played after all, only as an abridged version. Try fathoming for just a minute the unbelievable thrill that the millions of basketball fans around the world must have felt upon hearing the news that the season would in fact go on! I was so excited that I wouldn't have to go an entire winter season not being able to witness Shaquille O'Neal's inside domination or Jason Kidd's electrifying passing, when just a few short weeks before I expected to miss the entire season. And that made watching each game all the more special. I awaited the opening tip-off of the season with as much anticipation as Phish 96 Red Rock's run, and appreciated every great moment contained in those 48 minutes. Hell, even Bill Walton's face was a welcome addition on my TV screen. For a while at least.

So what's the point I'm trying to make? It's that when you're forced to do without something, it's all the greater when you get a chance to come in contact with it again. There are always tons of Phisheads on tour constantly talking about how this is their last show ever, or how the band is getting so weak these days that they just don't have a good time anymore. And it's a guarantee that a lot of these same people will be at the next tour sharing those exact same sentiments with anyone who will listen. The only way that they will stop going to shows, the only way that I will stop going to shows, the only way that most of you reading these words will stop going to shows, is if there are no shows to go to. And that's why this break will prove to be so important if the Phish community is going to survive and continue to grow and evolve for years to come. The fans need a break, the band needs a break, but most importantly, the music needs a break. And hey, at least now there will be plenty of time to watch basketball.