It's been a whole week. Things have slowed down, including my activity on this blog (for which I apologize - see footnote for more on this), but let's be serious: I'm never going to be too far from the gym.
For starters, I've been diagnosed (as I may have mentioned before) with Restless Leg Syndrome. So it wasn't a doctor who diagnosed me, big deal. All I'm saying is that I get a little antsy without some physical activity during the day.
To settle my RLS, I've been keeping busy. I'll play some pickup with the returning guys off and on, head into the gym alone to shoot a little bit - it takes a bit more coaxing for the ball to go into the basket these days - and I try to lift several times a week. This old, withering body of mine won't transform into Rambo all by itself, you know. Pretty soon all I'll need is a bandana, some eye black and a jungle to rampage.
Much to the delight of my mom, I've been able to routinely get to class for the first time in several months. My professors are also delighted. They no longer have to field my emails about our next road trip. You're welcome.
Luckily the NCAA Tournament resumes tomorrow. It's been a long few days of baseball highlights. Nothing against baseball (well, maybe not NOTHING), but the season is just too long. Let's be serious- from April until November there won't be much to see on TV besides some strikeouts, a few diving catches, fewer and fewer home runs (the MLB is really cracking down on steroids - or so they say) and maybe a new season of Jersey Shore.
I'll be looking forward to the commercials.
I'm also going to start a poll for my dad. We need to find him a hobby because for the last 18 years or so his summers, falls and winters have been spent watching me play basketball. I was thinking bowling, but he's left-handed. Something about gravity and the earth's rotation tells me he'd only be a good bowler in the southern hemisphere somewhere; and I don't think my mom will let him move to Australia anytime soon. Herding cattle crossed my mind but we're hard-pressed to find a pair of chaps or stirrups in Erie so here we are back at square one.
He just caved a month or so ago, however. He and my mom have cable television now for the first time in about five years. That's a start.
Is waiting until this weekend for another one too much? Text "YES" or "NO"
March 24, 2010
March 18, 2010
Madness
The madness has begun.
We're only halfway into day one of the NCAA Tournament, and already there are more close games, overtimes and buzzer-beaters than in all of last year's tournament (just heard that stat on ESPN, but I knew for myself that the games have been crazy).
It's been a week since our season ended, and the initial shock and pain has begun to wear off. It was difficult to watch the conference championships last week, seeing teams celebrate their invitation to the Tournament. That's where we wanted to be. But the dust has settled.
And these games are too good to miss.
Watching the tournament I find myself - like many people - rooting for the underdogs and anxious for an upset. The thing that makes it different for me is that I, as I'm sure my teammates and other players like us, see myself in that situation. Had we gotten in, we would be a 13, 14, 15 seed fighting to pull off an upset of our own. So as the low(er) seeds go, as do I.
So as Danero Thomas of 13-seeded Murray State knocked down a game-winning jumper at the buzzer, I smiled to myself as his teammates mobbed him at midcourt. I know the feeling of hitting a game-winning shot, but I can only imagine making the one that defeated a 4th-seeded team in the NCAA Tournament as millions of viewers hold their collective breath, fingers crossed for an upset.
The weekend gets sweeter as I came across a pair of tickets for the night session of first-round games held here in Buffalo. So tomorrow night, I'll be enjoying Gonzaga/Florida State and then Syracuse/Vermont...in living color.
I can only hope for a couple games just like the ones I've seen so far today. But no matter how the games go, I'm at the NCAA Tournament. Unfortunately I'm not playing, but I'll be there and I'm sure at some point during the games I'll see myself out on the court as I live - if only for a moment - vicariously through the guys playing in front of me.
We're only halfway into day one of the NCAA Tournament, and already there are more close games, overtimes and buzzer-beaters than in all of last year's tournament (just heard that stat on ESPN, but I knew for myself that the games have been crazy).
It's been a week since our season ended, and the initial shock and pain has begun to wear off. It was difficult to watch the conference championships last week, seeing teams celebrate their invitation to the Tournament. That's where we wanted to be. But the dust has settled.
And these games are too good to miss.
Watching the tournament I find myself - like many people - rooting for the underdogs and anxious for an upset. The thing that makes it different for me is that I, as I'm sure my teammates and other players like us, see myself in that situation. Had we gotten in, we would be a 13, 14, 15 seed fighting to pull off an upset of our own. So as the low(er) seeds go, as do I.
So as Danero Thomas of 13-seeded Murray State knocked down a game-winning jumper at the buzzer, I smiled to myself as his teammates mobbed him at midcourt. I know the feeling of hitting a game-winning shot, but I can only imagine making the one that defeated a 4th-seeded team in the NCAA Tournament as millions of viewers hold their collective breath, fingers crossed for an upset.
The weekend gets sweeter as I came across a pair of tickets for the night session of first-round games held here in Buffalo. So tomorrow night, I'll be enjoying Gonzaga/Florida State and then Syracuse/Vermont...in living color.
I can only hope for a couple games just like the ones I've seen so far today. But no matter how the games go, I'm at the NCAA Tournament. Unfortunately I'm not playing, but I'll be there and I'm sure at some point during the games I'll see myself out on the court as I live - if only for a moment - vicariously through the guys playing in front of me.
Foul
Recoiling back into a regular human existence is going to take some getting used to.
After the initial shock and a weekend of irregular sleep and, well, pretty much everything else (for two days I slept in three to four-hour shifts and ate in between), I'm getting back on schedule.
I have even taken up racquetball with a couple other senior teammates for a little off the court exercise. Ever tried three-man racquetball? Three college basketball players (we're a bit larger and more aggressive than the typical 50-plus year old goggle-clad racquetballer), three rackets and a little blue rubber ball whistling off the walls while we bob and weave to avoid the walls, each other and each other's rackets.
It's poetry in motion.
Luckily for the three of us, the team played pickup yesterday. Getting out onto the court was relaxing - yeah I was a bit out of shape, but it felt nice to run around a little bit with the guys.
You see, there's something about pickup basketball that you just can't find anywhere. It's like a disfunctional family on Thanksgiving.
Getting to the gym, everyone is in great spirits. We're doing what we love and with no pressure from fans or coaches so it's as free as it gets. So guys joke, laugh, and tell stories as we warm up shooting around.
Then, like that first dicey conversation at the Thanksgiving table, someone calls a foul.
May as well call the National Guard because there's bound to be a riot.
Of course the player who missed the layup got fouled. Why else would anyone ever miss a layup? (this is sarcasm)
And of course the player he called the foul on "didn't touch him." It was a clean block - "all ball."
It doesn't end that quickly, because it wasn't "all ball." The fouling player "slapped my hand; you could hear it."
But, taking a page from the rulebook, "your hand is a part of the ball," so the fouling player is off the hook.
Right?
Wrong. Now players from both teams begin arguing for their teammate. Amid the commotion, the most level-headed of the group will shout, "Just shoot for it!"
Which leads to the foul-ee shooting for the ball because why would "I" shoot for it if "I" didn't touch you?
Whichever way this ends up, we will hear, "the ball never lies." Let me explain. If the foul-ee makes it, the ball doesn't lie because he made the shot which essentially means the player was fouled. If he missed, the fouler's team gets the ball and the ball doesn't lie because it really was not a foul.
Phew
But before play resumes, we have to know the score. Yeah right.
Through all that arguing, everyone forgot. We play games all the way to the astronomical number of five, so it's understandable to lose track.
There goes another five minutes counting baskets. "Wait, no you didn't score that was last game."
...and so on...
Afterwards, there is usually some bad blood in the locker room because someone played well, someone else didn't and someone's team lost every game. And the insults come raining down on the losers.
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what makes pickup basketball so great.
After the initial shock and a weekend of irregular sleep and, well, pretty much everything else (for two days I slept in three to four-hour shifts and ate in between), I'm getting back on schedule.
I have even taken up racquetball with a couple other senior teammates for a little off the court exercise. Ever tried three-man racquetball? Three college basketball players (we're a bit larger and more aggressive than the typical 50-plus year old goggle-clad racquetballer), three rackets and a little blue rubber ball whistling off the walls while we bob and weave to avoid the walls, each other and each other's rackets.
It's poetry in motion.
Luckily for the three of us, the team played pickup yesterday. Getting out onto the court was relaxing - yeah I was a bit out of shape, but it felt nice to run around a little bit with the guys.
You see, there's something about pickup basketball that you just can't find anywhere. It's like a disfunctional family on Thanksgiving.
Getting to the gym, everyone is in great spirits. We're doing what we love and with no pressure from fans or coaches so it's as free as it gets. So guys joke, laugh, and tell stories as we warm up shooting around.
Then, like that first dicey conversation at the Thanksgiving table, someone calls a foul.
May as well call the National Guard because there's bound to be a riot.
Of course the player who missed the layup got fouled. Why else would anyone ever miss a layup? (this is sarcasm)
And of course the player he called the foul on "didn't touch him." It was a clean block - "all ball."
It doesn't end that quickly, because it wasn't "all ball." The fouling player "slapped my hand; you could hear it."
But, taking a page from the rulebook, "your hand is a part of the ball," so the fouling player is off the hook.
Right?
Wrong. Now players from both teams begin arguing for their teammate. Amid the commotion, the most level-headed of the group will shout, "Just shoot for it!"
Which leads to the foul-ee shooting for the ball because why would "I" shoot for it if "I" didn't touch you?
Whichever way this ends up, we will hear, "the ball never lies." Let me explain. If the foul-ee makes it, the ball doesn't lie because he made the shot which essentially means the player was fouled. If he missed, the fouler's team gets the ball and the ball doesn't lie because it really was not a foul.
Phew
But before play resumes, we have to know the score. Yeah right.
Through all that arguing, everyone forgot. We play games all the way to the astronomical number of five, so it's understandable to lose track.
There goes another five minutes counting baskets. "Wait, no you didn't score that was last game."
...and so on...
Afterwards, there is usually some bad blood in the locker room because someone played well, someone else didn't and someone's team lost every game. And the insults come raining down on the losers.
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what makes pickup basketball so great.
March 15, 2010
Dirty Laundry
In a waiting game following our conference quarterfinal loss to Miami we, well, waited. And unfortunately on Sunday night we got the news that we would not be playing in a postseason tournament.
Just like that.
I'm left with schoolwork and a whole bunch of dirty laundry.
I'm only kidding - well not about the work and laundry but - it won't be so bad. Although the season ended a bit prematurely, I had been preparing myself for what would inevitably come this spring: for the end of the season and my career as a Bull. Today honestly just feels like a day off of practice. String together a couple months of days off though, and you get my final half semester of college.
I don't want to turn into a vegetable (and I also suffer from a mean case of Restless Leg Syndrome), so the couch potato thing won't work out for me either. Good thing.
For the next few months I'll be doing my self-prescribed Beach Body workout in between classes and laundry. Maybe by the time I'm done with school I'll have become enough like Rambo to go to the beach (or to put on a tie and go into work...I can't wait to get a job and work all year long ::sarcasm::).
I do want to take an opportunity now to thank everyone who has supported the team and myself over the past few years. There were some ups and downs, but it was a great run. And also thanks to the family and friends who were around before I got to Buffalo that helped me along the way; and to those who will be around now and in the future, after basketball.
It's been over 20 years since I got my first basketball hoop. I have stories for days and memories for the ages. I'm looking forward to the next part of my life, but there will always be room for the last 20-plus years of that I spent on the court. We hear it all the time, but the years really do fly by. Enjoy the ride.
"It's not about the breath's you take, but the moments that take your breath away..."
[editor's note: Don't stop reading my blog just because the season's over. I can assure you I'll have plenty of stories for you until my Van Wilder college experience is finally over in May. If I stayed here any longer they might have to name a building after me or something. Five years? Some little kid was born, learned to talk, walk, eat on his own and tie his shoes since I've been at UB. While I developed my jump shot, this little kid developed a taste for his favorite food, probably has a favorite color, started playing his favorite sport and experienced chicken pox. That's an eternity.]
Just like that.
I'm left with schoolwork and a whole bunch of dirty laundry.
I'm only kidding - well not about the work and laundry but - it won't be so bad. Although the season ended a bit prematurely, I had been preparing myself for what would inevitably come this spring: for the end of the season and my career as a Bull. Today honestly just feels like a day off of practice. String together a couple months of days off though, and you get my final half semester of college.
I don't want to turn into a vegetable (and I also suffer from a mean case of Restless Leg Syndrome), so the couch potato thing won't work out for me either. Good thing.
For the next few months I'll be doing my self-prescribed Beach Body workout in between classes and laundry. Maybe by the time I'm done with school I'll have become enough like Rambo to go to the beach (or to put on a tie and go into work...I can't wait to get a job and work all year long ::sarcasm::).
I do want to take an opportunity now to thank everyone who has supported the team and myself over the past few years. There were some ups and downs, but it was a great run. And also thanks to the family and friends who were around before I got to Buffalo that helped me along the way; and to those who will be around now and in the future, after basketball.
It's been over 20 years since I got my first basketball hoop. I have stories for days and memories for the ages. I'm looking forward to the next part of my life, but there will always be room for the last 20-plus years of that I spent on the court. We hear it all the time, but the years really do fly by. Enjoy the ride.
"It's not about the breath's you take, but the moments that take your breath away..."
[editor's note: Don't stop reading my blog just because the season's over. I can assure you I'll have plenty of stories for you until my Van Wilder college experience is finally over in May. If I stayed here any longer they might have to name a building after me or something. Five years? Some little kid was born, learned to talk, walk, eat on his own and tie his shoes since I've been at UB. While I developed my jump shot, this little kid developed a taste for his favorite food, probably has a favorite color, started playing his favorite sport and experienced chicken pox. That's an eternity.]
March 10, 2010
Apollo 11
In arguably the most exciting week of the college basketball season, conference champions are crowned and tickets to the NCAA Tournament are punched.
A bit cliche I know, but when you're a part of it all as we are this week in Cleveland, the excitement builds each and every day.
This year we played the first round of the MAC Tournament at home - our win over Toledo this past Sunday afternoon. A playoff game yes, but the atmosphere here in Cleveland is a complete 180. All the teams stay in the same hotel (more on that later). With a mall attached, players often cross paths during downtime. Signs and flyers for the MAC Tournament litter the landscape as you are the main attraction.
And the games are played at Quicken Loans Arena, home of LeBron James and the Cleveland Caveliers.
Back in the day, weekend-long summer basketball tournaments were what we lived for. High school and travel teams getting by in dingy hotels with four guys to a room. The opposing teams stay right next door and three games in a day is a light day.
This weekend in Cleveland is as close to that as it gets. Just up the stakes, increase the crowd and upgrade to an NBA venue and you have the MAC Tournament.
As I said earlier, more on this hotel.
The Renaissance Hotel in downtown Cleveland, Ohio is an historic landmark renovated for the contemporary 21st Century traveler. Nestled proudly adjacent to Quicken Loans Arena and mere minutes from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, this beautifully decorated establishment is attached to a three-story shopping mall that spans several city blocks.
I've probably booked like ten rooms for them just from that paragraph. You're welcome.
The real excitement comes in the crapshot that is room assignments. You see, not all the rooms are the same. You might feel cozy in an average-sized (yet elaborately decorated) hotel room with your typical two bed, one television, desk and chair square setup with a bathroom. Or you could luck out with a stretched rectangle that houses two beds, a desk, a chair, full-size couch with coffee table, and two TV's - oh, plus a bathroom and a closet of course. Then again, you might stumble into a forgotten closet that, aside from two beds and a TV, provides just enough room for you to stumble over your bags on the way to the bathroom.
In five years coming here I've had all three. For my final tour? Look behind door number two - now I just need to decide whether to lay in bed or relax on the couch.
I can pretty much watch both TV's. And both remotes work both televisions. This makes for some interesting channel surfing. Especially at bed time when all you want to do is turn one TV off, but hitting the Power button turns one off and the other on in a vicious back-and-forth game that ends in me getting out of bed and turning both TV's off by hand.
Unfortunately now I'm not in my room - it somehow slipped the minds of the hotel's upper management to provide wireless internet access to the rooms. No, I am currently at the Caribou Coffee shop in the mall, where ownership has realized that it is 2010 and provided free wi-fi. Business is booming.
We're heading over to the arena later this evening to get a feel for it. It's a new experience for some guys and we want to get the jitters out before game day.
Before I go, however, I'd like to mention something that has been bugging me this afternoon. On the bus to practice this morning the Apollo 11 moon landing was the topic of discussion. We have a few guys on the team who blasphemously believe that the historic steps Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin took were staged. Yes I know, hard to believe but there are those out there who mistakenly think that Hollywood setup the "hoax" that was mans' first landing on the moon. I didn't even pursue the conversation on the bus. It just grinds my gears.
For years as a kid I wanted to be an astronaut. It wasn't until high school that I realized you have to be a real-life rocket scientist to even begin thinking about that career. I thought you just had to go to space camp. Since I'm missing the part of the brain that understands higher math, my NASA career ended abruptly. Not, however, before I discovered the NASA channel and downloaded the Solar System App for my iTouch.
I'm not far behind, Neil. I just need a little calculus help.
When's the last time you used calculus in real-life anyway?
A bit cliche I know, but when you're a part of it all as we are this week in Cleveland, the excitement builds each and every day.
This year we played the first round of the MAC Tournament at home - our win over Toledo this past Sunday afternoon. A playoff game yes, but the atmosphere here in Cleveland is a complete 180. All the teams stay in the same hotel (more on that later). With a mall attached, players often cross paths during downtime. Signs and flyers for the MAC Tournament litter the landscape as you are the main attraction.
And the games are played at Quicken Loans Arena, home of LeBron James and the Cleveland Caveliers.
Back in the day, weekend-long summer basketball tournaments were what we lived for. High school and travel teams getting by in dingy hotels with four guys to a room. The opposing teams stay right next door and three games in a day is a light day.
This weekend in Cleveland is as close to that as it gets. Just up the stakes, increase the crowd and upgrade to an NBA venue and you have the MAC Tournament.
As I said earlier, more on this hotel.
The Renaissance Hotel in downtown Cleveland, Ohio is an historic landmark renovated for the contemporary 21st Century traveler. Nestled proudly adjacent to Quicken Loans Arena and mere minutes from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, this beautifully decorated establishment is attached to a three-story shopping mall that spans several city blocks.
I've probably booked like ten rooms for them just from that paragraph. You're welcome.
The real excitement comes in the crapshot that is room assignments. You see, not all the rooms are the same. You might feel cozy in an average-sized (yet elaborately decorated) hotel room with your typical two bed, one television, desk and chair square setup with a bathroom. Or you could luck out with a stretched rectangle that houses two beds, a desk, a chair, full-size couch with coffee table, and two TV's - oh, plus a bathroom and a closet of course. Then again, you might stumble into a forgotten closet that, aside from two beds and a TV, provides just enough room for you to stumble over your bags on the way to the bathroom.
In five years coming here I've had all three. For my final tour? Look behind door number two - now I just need to decide whether to lay in bed or relax on the couch.
I can pretty much watch both TV's. And both remotes work both televisions. This makes for some interesting channel surfing. Especially at bed time when all you want to do is turn one TV off, but hitting the Power button turns one off and the other on in a vicious back-and-forth game that ends in me getting out of bed and turning both TV's off by hand.
Unfortunately now I'm not in my room - it somehow slipped the minds of the hotel's upper management to provide wireless internet access to the rooms. No, I am currently at the Caribou Coffee shop in the mall, where ownership has realized that it is 2010 and provided free wi-fi. Business is booming.
We're heading over to the arena later this evening to get a feel for it. It's a new experience for some guys and we want to get the jitters out before game day.
Before I go, however, I'd like to mention something that has been bugging me this afternoon. On the bus to practice this morning the Apollo 11 moon landing was the topic of discussion. We have a few guys on the team who blasphemously believe that the historic steps Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin took were staged. Yes I know, hard to believe but there are those out there who mistakenly think that Hollywood setup the "hoax" that was mans' first landing on the moon. I didn't even pursue the conversation on the bus. It just grinds my gears.
For years as a kid I wanted to be an astronaut. It wasn't until high school that I realized you have to be a real-life rocket scientist to even begin thinking about that career. I thought you just had to go to space camp. Since I'm missing the part of the brain that understands higher math, my NASA career ended abruptly. Not, however, before I discovered the NASA channel and downloaded the Solar System App for my iTouch.
I'm not far behind, Neil. I just need a little calculus help.
When's the last time you used calculus in real-life anyway?
March 3, 2010
Pecos Bill
My last regular season practice came on a cold, sunny March morning in Oxford, Ohio. It was a tired morning - one of those days that an extra hour of sleep would sell for more than its usual fare. But I can't complain. Several hours before, during our short, seven-hour bus trip, I was lucky enough to settle into a rare comfortable position and knock out for a few hours.
After a bowl of cereal, an especially smooth cup of strawberry-banana yogurt and a blueberry muffin, my gears were churning and I was ready to hit the floor for what would be the last practice before the last regular season game of my last year here at UB.
And I'm happy to say it was a good practice.
Now back to this bus trip.
I really don't know how I fell asleep, but I woke up to a heated debate. Several guys believe that Shaq is one of the best big men of all time. Well, Coach disagrees (of course). Coach has been a "Shaq-hater" for at least as long as I've been here; needless to say, this topic fires him up.
The discussion went from the obvious names like Kareem and Wilt (who are hands-down better than Shaq) to more dicey comparisons like David Robinson, Dwight Howard and Tim Duncan. Nene' even got thrown in the mix. But after checking stats (remember, it's 2010 so the internet is readily available via cell phone even on a bus in the middle of Nowheresville, Ohio) and watching old videos and asking everyone from assistant coaches to the team's radio broadcaster (see "Smurf," January, 2010), the argument carried on.
I honestly don't even have a conclusion to the story I just shared. Disappointing? Not considering that after seven hours on a bus plus two-hours at dinner, this topic is still yet to be settled. Shaq (barely) made my top ten big men of all time. Check it out:
Kareem
Wilt
Moses Malone
Bill Walton
Hakeem
Bill Russell
Patrick Ewing
David Robinson
Shaq
Tim Duncan
I may have left out a few names, but this is more or less a pretty solid list in my opinion. And I'm sticking to it. Tim Duncan is on the fence, but I was unable to come up with another name off the top of my head right now. My apologies.
This is not nearly the first time an argument has arisen from the back of the bus. Are you kidding? What else would we do besides argue to pass the boredom that comes from the hum of tires spinning on concrete for seven hours?
Just today, on the way back from practice we had a pseudo-argument over speed. First, there was some confusion as to how fast Deion Sanders ran the 40-yard dash. The world wide web assured us it was 4.19 seconds. Conversation over, right?
Wrong.
Of course guys now begin storytelling. We hear things like, "I would run a 4.3," and, "Well if you're running a 4.3, then I'm running at least a 4.2." For the speed-challenged reader, I'll let you understand that neither one of these times is very realistic. I could believe a 4.4 by one of our guys, possibly a lucky 4.38 or 4.39. Maybe. With the wind at his back. But a 4.2?
Then came the high school glory days stories where everyone on the bus swore they ran below a 4.5 - in high school, mind you. Which obviously relates to "at least a 4.3 now." We even learned that one of us ran a 4.3 in high school wearing only socks.
That must have been the same day that Pecos Bill lassoed the tornado and Paul Bunyan dug the Grand Canyon.
But these are what keep us close and make the hours pass by. There's never a lack of interesting stories - and heated arguments.
After a bowl of cereal, an especially smooth cup of strawberry-banana yogurt and a blueberry muffin, my gears were churning and I was ready to hit the floor for what would be the last practice before the last regular season game of my last year here at UB.
And I'm happy to say it was a good practice.
Now back to this bus trip.
I really don't know how I fell asleep, but I woke up to a heated debate. Several guys believe that Shaq is one of the best big men of all time. Well, Coach disagrees (of course). Coach has been a "Shaq-hater" for at least as long as I've been here; needless to say, this topic fires him up.
The discussion went from the obvious names like Kareem and Wilt (who are hands-down better than Shaq) to more dicey comparisons like David Robinson, Dwight Howard and Tim Duncan. Nene' even got thrown in the mix. But after checking stats (remember, it's 2010 so the internet is readily available via cell phone even on a bus in the middle of Nowheresville, Ohio) and watching old videos and asking everyone from assistant coaches to the team's radio broadcaster (see "Smurf," January, 2010), the argument carried on.
I honestly don't even have a conclusion to the story I just shared. Disappointing? Not considering that after seven hours on a bus plus two-hours at dinner, this topic is still yet to be settled. Shaq (barely) made my top ten big men of all time. Check it out:
Kareem
Wilt
Moses Malone
Bill Walton
Hakeem
Bill Russell
Patrick Ewing
David Robinson
Shaq
Tim Duncan
I may have left out a few names, but this is more or less a pretty solid list in my opinion. And I'm sticking to it. Tim Duncan is on the fence, but I was unable to come up with another name off the top of my head right now. My apologies.
This is not nearly the first time an argument has arisen from the back of the bus. Are you kidding? What else would we do besides argue to pass the boredom that comes from the hum of tires spinning on concrete for seven hours?
Just today, on the way back from practice we had a pseudo-argument over speed. First, there was some confusion as to how fast Deion Sanders ran the 40-yard dash. The world wide web assured us it was 4.19 seconds. Conversation over, right?
Wrong.
Of course guys now begin storytelling. We hear things like, "I would run a 4.3," and, "Well if you're running a 4.3, then I'm running at least a 4.2." For the speed-challenged reader, I'll let you understand that neither one of these times is very realistic. I could believe a 4.4 by one of our guys, possibly a lucky 4.38 or 4.39. Maybe. With the wind at his back. But a 4.2?
Then came the high school glory days stories where everyone on the bus swore they ran below a 4.5 - in high school, mind you. Which obviously relates to "at least a 4.3 now." We even learned that one of us ran a 4.3 in high school wearing only socks.
That must have been the same day that Pecos Bill lassoed the tornado and Paul Bunyan dug the Grand Canyon.
But these are what keep us close and make the hours pass by. There's never a lack of interesting stories - and heated arguments.
March 1, 2010
Senior Night
After a tough loss at Akron it was time for my final home game ever as a UB Bull.
In one of the most epic senior night celebrations of all time, six of us - plus a senior manager - would be honored before the game. Needless to say, the game against Ohio would be starting a few (well, more like 15 or 20) minutes late.
But wait, there's more.
Prior to the Senior Night festivities and the game, the pregame clock wound down to just over a minute to go. The next thing I know I glance up and the clock has jumped back to six minutes remaining. I remember thinking, "That's funny." But didn't think much of it at the time.
Then, approximately five minutes later, the clock wound back up to six minutes again. At this point we've had over ten extra minutes of warmup.
I don't want to get tired, so I take a walk to our bench for some water and discover en route that there was a malfunction with the sound system. Apparently, just before we took the floor a fuse blew or something, releasing a deafening shriek from the arena speakers. I heard peoples' ears started bleeding (okay, that's an exaggeration).
Luckily, a few minutes later the MC, Jerry, announced that the problem had been fixed.
And the crowd...goes...wild...
With the speaker SNAFU taken care of, it was time for Senior Night and the annual senior walk, parents in hand, to midcourt. The experience was surreal; I can remember Senior Night the year I was a freshman here at UB. Time really does fly.
Amid the commotion and the ceremonies, there was a game to be played. And in typical Senior Night fashion, we won a doozy, 72-69.
But Senior Night is over, and with one regular season game left we're in position to get a bye in the first round of the conference tournament. The focus is on sealing that bye with a win at Miami of Ohio.
And with the Olympics over, it's time for everyone to watch college basketball again. I mean, it's March now. Let the madness begin...
In one of the most epic senior night celebrations of all time, six of us - plus a senior manager - would be honored before the game. Needless to say, the game against Ohio would be starting a few (well, more like 15 or 20) minutes late.
But wait, there's more.
Prior to the Senior Night festivities and the game, the pregame clock wound down to just over a minute to go. The next thing I know I glance up and the clock has jumped back to six minutes remaining. I remember thinking, "That's funny." But didn't think much of it at the time.
Then, approximately five minutes later, the clock wound back up to six minutes again. At this point we've had over ten extra minutes of warmup.
I don't want to get tired, so I take a walk to our bench for some water and discover en route that there was a malfunction with the sound system. Apparently, just before we took the floor a fuse blew or something, releasing a deafening shriek from the arena speakers. I heard peoples' ears started bleeding (okay, that's an exaggeration).
Luckily, a few minutes later the MC, Jerry, announced that the problem had been fixed.
And the crowd...goes...wild...
With the speaker SNAFU taken care of, it was time for Senior Night and the annual senior walk, parents in hand, to midcourt. The experience was surreal; I can remember Senior Night the year I was a freshman here at UB. Time really does fly.
Amid the commotion and the ceremonies, there was a game to be played. And in typical Senior Night fashion, we won a doozy, 72-69.
But Senior Night is over, and with one regular season game left we're in position to get a bye in the first round of the conference tournament. The focus is on sealing that bye with a win at Miami of Ohio.
And with the Olympics over, it's time for everyone to watch college basketball again. I mean, it's March now. Let the madness begin...
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