Last night was a night of champions in my household. Anticipation hung thickly on the air, my girlfriend and I could feel it. Somewhere amid the contemplative silence and pasta making, I felt it was time to acknowledge the moment. I left the ground beef sizzling to approach her and ask:

“Are you ready?”

She responds with a sharp but excited, “Oh yeah. Big night.”

“It certainly is,” I say cheekily, “it’s Game 1 of the NBA Finals!”

She swings around, forsaking the newly minced garlic and onion. Her gaze fiery and pointed. “Oh no! That’s a phone game. Tonight is RuPaul.”

I laugh, knowing I was trotting on hallowed ground. Thursday nights had become an institution in our home with RuPaul’s Drag Race nearing the finale of its Season 11 run. The weekly two-hour block of Drag Race and its after-show, Untucked, achieved a level of appointment viewing rivaled only by Game of Thrones. Thank god both didn’t air Sunday night.

I respected her fandom and the time she cordoned off for it. It seemed like a fair trade for my NBA fandom, which demands attention on a nightly basis. Plus, after following Seasons 11, 10, 9, and multiple iterations of the all-star spin-off, I developed my own fascinations about RuPaul and the drag culture she’s ushered into the mainstream.

Competition and Legacy

 What strikes me most about Drag Race is the sense of history and heritage embedded in each season. As a TV show, it’s bright, loud, and seemingly insubstantial to the unengaged eye. Admittedly, that was my initial read; I understood the cultural importance of RuPaul’s show but it seemed too caricatured to enlighten.

Then, as I watched, I discovered the quiet moments of unexpected confidence, typically as the queens applied their contour or lined their eyebrows with glue sticks. As they exchange their stories, and you start to see the utility behind the extravagance of the show and its personalities. It’s an unrepentant rebel yell, affirming the charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent that many in the world would strip them of.

Drag Race is a political statement, but politics aren’t what drive it. It’s the competition and the legacy of each new drag superstar that perpetuates the show’s community and its discourse. Every Drag Race diehard I’ve met is a casual historian for the series, using the strengths and weaknesses of past competitors to contextualize the skill and potential of each new crop of queens.

Measuring and Mythologizing Greatness

The same goes for the NBA. Even in a league run by analytics, it’s not enough to cite stats when debating who the most transcendent players are. You have to refer to the league’s history to determine which players aggregate the most skills once showcased by the sport’s pantheon players. LeBron is a better facilitator than Kobe statistically, but would he have a better Finals record with more of the Mamba Mentality? Should we excuse Russell Westbrook’s late-game hero ball because of his triple-double average, something only Oscar Robertson was able to accomplish decades ago? Can Joel Embiid ever reach his true potential given the durability issues that have plagued promising centers of the past like Yao Ming and Greg Oden?

The same conversations happen in Drag Race culture. They have their key metrics, just like basketball stat heads. Some queens are considered pageant variety, often polished but with lower ceilings due to a lack of innovative looks. Some players put up monster numbers on bad teams. Some queens become “lip sync assassins” when they repeatedly survive the show’s sudden-death performance challenge. Some players are clutch and know when to flip the switch when it matters most. Some queens are viewed beauty bloggers only looking to boost their social media following. Some players revel in Twitter drama. Some queens are considered over-the-hill. Some players miss their championship window. Some queens are celebrated for their political action and social advocacy. Some players build schools and confront the president.

It’s almost eerie how well Drag Race culture aligns with the basketball world, and sports culture more broadly. It became abundantly clear to me when VH1 began running commercials for the Drag Race Fantasy League, but the similarities became even more apparent as I simultaneously watched the RuPaul’s grand finale and Game 1 of the NBA Finals.

The Main Stage

Game 1 had two finalists. Drag Race had four, but two that seemed sure to advance to the final face-off, much like the Raptors and Warriors did in their respective conferences during the regular season. On the Drag Race main stage, these two were Brooke Lynn Hytes, a towering ex-ballerina that gained assassin status after staving off lip sync elimination several times during the season, and Yvie Oddly, a champion of grotesque looks and easily the most unique performer in the Season 11 lot.

The winner of this year’s Drag Race would be determined by three lip syncs—two semifinal bouts and a final—but like any widely spectated competition, it was preceded by a bloated pregame. A full segment was dedicated to introducing each semifinalist queen to a packed Orpheum Theatre. Each block featured a black-and-white interview package of each queen sharing what the crown means to them. Substitute A’keria Chanel Davenport for Steph Curry and the diamond scepter for the Larry O’Brien Trophy and you’ve got Finals pregame content.

After some tiresome build-up from both broadcasts, their main events began. Toronto had the full weight of The North behind them, winning the 1st quarter 25-21. Silky Nutmeg Ganache, the finale’s only plus-sized queen fighting to prove she deserved to share the penultimate stage, is selected for the first lip sync and boldly chooses Brooke Lynn as her opponent.

My girlfriend quickly points out that Silky is making a grave mistake, but I understand the decision. To be the man, you have to beat the man. The Raptors may have had an easier time against the Trail Blazers had they upset the Warriors in the Western Conference Finals, but Toronto’s first Finals win wouldn’t be nearly as sweet if they didn’t go through último hombre to get it.

Silky chose the matchup so Brooke Lynn would the song, but not directly. Her two options were concealed in cases labeled 1 and 96.  Naturally, she chose 96: Bootylicious by Destiny’s Child. An auspicious draw for Silky, I thought, even though she isn’t known for her lip sync. Brooke Lynn pulled focus from the outset, but Silky pulled out all the stops to draw it back with wig reveals and multiple, seismic death drops. She literally ended her performance rolling around the stage; there was no denying she did everything she physically could, but the result still seemed certain.

The song ends and RuPaul, ever the mogul, bates her breathless audience through a cruel commercial break. Game 1 also goes to break, playing Disco Inferno over Raptors forward-phenom Pascal Siakam attacking the rim for a hard-earned bucket. While the disco sting plays in my ear, I shift focus to the TV as two mustached men make out in an advertisement for Nastypig.com. I realize I’m having one of the more unique TV watching experiences of my life.

On the other side, Brooke Lynn gets the Shantay. Going back to Game 1, I see the Warriors have taken a small lead in the middle of the 2nd. For a moment, I wonder if the Raptors feel like Silky, throwing everything they can muster at an odds-on favorite, enjoying the rush of a quick start only to find themselves behind.

As Brooke Lynn recedes to the back of the stage, the remaining semi-finalists approach. Yvie Oddly stands next to A’keria C. Davenport, lone representative of her drag family, House Davenport. Yvie and A’keria’s lip sync looks represent their respective strengths. Yvie’s dress, a vibrant tapestry of mangled stuffed animal parts, is a look that could only come from here. A’keria’s shimmering blue ensemble and large pageant hair showcase the classic elegance that defined her through much of the season.

Case 1 is opened. The song is Rihanna’s S.O.S. and the lip sync seems as if it can go either way. The difference though, as it was during Yvie’s past lip sync performances, was her contortionist-grade flexibility. The bizarreness of her movement accentuates the weirdness of her persona, drawing the eye from A’keria’s formidable, passionate turn. Evie punctuates her lip sync with an Exorcist-like spider crawl and the book seems all but closed.

As Yvie advances, the Raptors pull in front but not in the way you’d imagine. Up to this point, Kawhi Leonard has hoisted the team (and, to a degree, Canada itself) on his back during the postseason. Tonight, though, it’s the aggressive two-way postgame of Pascal Siakam and the lights-out shooting and slashing of Fred VanVleet leading the charge. Leonard would always be the Raptor’s bread and butter, just like Yvie’s oddity, but tonight required more so Toronto and Oddly drew an unexpected ace.

Halftime Adjustments and Crunch Time

After entertaining opening volleys, Game 1 and RuPaul’s grand finale hit halftime. My girlfriend wonders aloud if Brooke Lynn and Yvie will be able to change outfits. It only seems fair to give the two time to make adjustments.

Second half action resumes. The Warriors post a patented 3rd quarter win, but only by a three-point margin. Game 1 remains up for grabs going into the 4th, and Toronto has an unsavory history of being unable to close.

Brooke Lynn and Yvie await their final song. It’s Lady Gaga’s Edge of Glory, unquestionably the right track for the moment. There has to be a winner, but it’s unclear how RuPaul could possibly choose one. After all, these two had squared off before in a lip sync earlier in the season, but it led to a rare no-decision. Going into the final verse, the return bout was neck-and-neck, but Yvie held one more surprise: a bronze, LED-lit face built into the back of her mirrored, flower-like headpiece.

As Brooke Lynn made her reliably devastating gyrations, Yvie slowly turned around to reveal the new face then fell back into the spider crawl, replacing the bronze face with her own inverted visage reflected by the large facets surrounding it. On ABC, Pascal Siakam banked in a Kareem-like running skyhook, Kawhi banged home a three, and Fred VanVleet found his Mamba Mentality with an unreal turnaround fadeaway jumper. Yvie and the Raptors hit their daggers and sealed their fates.

Postgame Rituals

My girlfriend watched Yvie’s coronation twice. The second viewing was for her to fully take in the moment; the first was for the reaction. She posted the moment and her take to Instagram, knowing that the culmination of Season 11 only marked the beginning of the debate. Was Evie the rightful queen? How much did Silky’s choosing Brooke Lynn matter? How does Yvie compare with past drag superstars? Which social media sensations have the clout for a Season 12 appearance? Will any of the runners-up return?

Game 1 predictably created similar questions. Can the Raptors stop one of the most dominant dynastic runs in basketball history? Will the Raptors bench remain strong throughout the series? What about Kevin Durant? How serious is his injury? Should he return to save a third-straight title, and if the Warriors fall short, should he return to the team at all?

When RuPaul’s grand finale concluded, I switched over to the closing moments of Game 1. I traded the rolling adulation of the Orpheum Theatre for the raucously jubilant masses of Jurassic Park with little-to-no emotional drop-off. The night of champions began with my girlfriend and I seeking two seemingly different viewing experiences, but having watched both simultaneously, it was clear that she and I were scratching the same itch.