Posts Tagged ‘Basketball’

Though This Be Madness, Yet There Is Method In ’t

March 25, 2018

Who am I pulling for in the NCAA tournament? Easy: Gonzaga.

Yeah, sure. I know the team got knocked out in the regional semifinals by Florida State but I don’t care. I like Gonzaga. Every year I pull for them.

It’s not that I’m an alum or even that I know anything about the school. Where is it? What’s the mascot? Isn’t it even worth rooting for? Hell if I know. I just like the sound of it. Gonzaga. Gon-za-ga! GON-ZAH-GUH!!!!!! Sounds like a cool cheese or a type of skin rash or a Captain Marvel villain, which is awesome. And I’ll never bother to learn any more about the team, the school or the name other than that because the details are not important.

Gonzaga! Gonzaga! Gonzaga! Long may you have a kick-ass name!

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In The Bag

August 21, 2017

I was telling some pals about this old commercial I remembered for the Food Lion chain of grocery stores featuring Michael Jordan. It aired back in the 1980s so I was willing to admit that I had recalled it incorrectly. However I found it online and, nope, I was right: Michael Jordan shoplifted.

Look carefully. He tosses the produce while still shopping but it doesn’t land in his bag until after he pays! Whoosh! “That’s a three-pointer!” Nope, that’s a misdemeanor! And I’m aware this was relatively early in his NBA career but you know he could still have afforded it. Oh sure, I hear you saying that he probably told the cashier to ring him up for the head of lettuce that was attempting re-entry because he’s just an upstanding guy and all but I think the far likelier scenario is: Whoosh! “Hey, uh, Michael, you wanna pay for that produce?” “I’m Michael Jordan! I know Dean Smith! Get the hell outta my face!” Yeah, that’s right! Own the crime, MJ! We got it on film! It’s a crime only slightly less bold than your baseball career and – uh – damn, I can’t do this anymore.

I know he didn’t shoplift. I know he’s a great guy. It’s just that I went to UNC-Chapel Hill and I’m not saying that I was that anxious freshman standing outside Carmichael gym, holding out a notebook and hoping for an autograph as you breezed by after basketball practice with your teammates, probably on your way to Mr. Gatti’s or Four Corners or some place ultra-cool – I’m just saying that sometimes our idols hurt us and all the crying and tear-stained pillows won’t make up for the fact that I had your poster, Michael! That one where you had your hands all stretched out and it took up and entire wall of my dorm room! I loved you, man! Maybe it was a guy crush, maybe it was something a little more that scared me back then and I’m still a little reluctant to talk about now, but I loved you! You couldn’t return one phone call or letter or sign one Carolina jersey?

Dammit. Now I’m all worked up about it. Still. Not too late to make amends.

Call me, Michael. We can still be BFF! It’s not too late!

 

Ill Will

March 5, 2017

You know what I think would be cool? No, wait – that’s a loaded question. Lots of thing would be cool to me. My credit union misplacing a couple of decimals and throwing my account balance into the low six figures. That would be neat. Aaron Sorkin given carte blanche to create a TV show that would run for as long as he wanted and without network interference. That would be sweet. Seeing Naomi Watts and Rachel Weisz standing on my doorstep because their car broke down and they’re hot and sweaty from walking and they need a place to shower. That would be really bloody awesome.

But no, this time what I think would be cool is for some seasonal viral outbreak to occur where people temporarily lose their mind due to contagion. It would be horrible although not fatal. But, while infectious, people would become disgusting mockeries of themselves. It would happen as the seasons changed and winter thawed into spring. Inhibitions would fly, taboos would be broken, intelligence lost and the afflicted would become walking ids, wreaking such a havoc upon their communities that the stigma of the illnesses would forevermore nudge anything else of similar appellation from the forefront of consciousness.

And what would the medical community would call such a disease? “March Madness.” Thus ensuring that the NCAA would have to come up with something else to call their little cager clambake, not unlike the makers of that dietetic candy Ayds had to do back in the 80s (look it up).

I think that would be cool. But, of course, that’s just me.