So embodied are the demands of productive time in a basketball game that a team's reserve players (a form of surplus labour sitting in wait on the bench) will in unison chant a countdown of the final seconds remaining on the shot clock for a particular possession. This can be highly beneficial. For those players on the floor who are so into the haptic flow of the game that they cannot focus visual perspective on the clock, such a chant shifts the sensory cue to the aural and offers the team a better chance overall for productive success (scoring a basket).
In certain cases — as with Cameron Indoor Stadium at Duke University — a majority of fans will join, or indeed lead, such a chant. Though embroiled in the physiological intensity that comes with being part of a sporting crowd, each chanting fan retains a physical memory of time's passage such that there exists a sympathy with those players whose expiring shot clock constrains opportunity. Productive time becomes embodied in such a fashion that one need not even play the game in order to somatically register and respond to its demands. Not only do we see the surveillant gaze of the Foucauldian middle manager discursively brought to bear upon the hardwood shoproom floor, then, but in the Cameron Crazies and others of their ilk we also witness the fleshy presence that remains perceptible even with the emergence of an "immaterial" economy.
(That said, these same fans might in fact have a better intuitive and embodied sense of spectacular time.)