Hands of Stone
So...at least I had my NCAA pools going for me...I was really looking forward to a weekend of watching the games and barking at everyone who'd listen that I was sooooooo smart and that I'd win money again.
All I needed out of last night's four games was a Syracuse win. Everything else was just a distraction. Putting the Syracuse game in the bank by ten o'clock would allow me to sleep easy, and wait for the rest of a great weekend.
Ten minutes into the game they were down 12-1 - they looked like they were all playing with stones tied to their hands - the ball would hit them and bounce off.
Of course, my kids were beside me laughing it up, reminding me that I am indeed a little slow.
An aside here, I swear I have my children believing that as a nine-year old I starred in the NBA as a white kid from West Virginia who made the Lakers.
"How come I can't find your name in the record books when I Google it?" Sam said.
"I went under an alias," I said. "I was only nine so I had to lie about my name and age."
"What was your name then?" Sam asked.
"Jerry West," I replied.
Twenty minutes later, Sam was back upstairs.
"You weren't Jerry West," he said.
"I swear it's true," I answered. "I was in the NBA just after I came back from Viet Nam."
Sam studied me for a long moment. I could see the wheels turning. How could it possibly be true?
"I'll just ask Grandma," he said.
Anyway...Syracuse lost. My pool went from being the number one contender to being just a piece of scrap paper. My entire weekend was lost to the Butler Freaking Bulldogs.
I swear, I was going to try and behave. Just basketball. No Jamesons, grey goose, or beer.
Now what the hell do I do? The hands of stone did me in?
What would Jerry West do in this situation?
All I needed out of last night's four games was a Syracuse win. Everything else was just a distraction. Putting the Syracuse game in the bank by ten o'clock would allow me to sleep easy, and wait for the rest of a great weekend.
Ten minutes into the game they were down 12-1 - they looked like they were all playing with stones tied to their hands - the ball would hit them and bounce off.
Of course, my kids were beside me laughing it up, reminding me that I am indeed a little slow.
An aside here, I swear I have my children believing that as a nine-year old I starred in the NBA as a white kid from West Virginia who made the Lakers.
"How come I can't find your name in the record books when I Google it?" Sam said.
"I went under an alias," I said. "I was only nine so I had to lie about my name and age."
"What was your name then?" Sam asked.
"Jerry West," I replied.
Twenty minutes later, Sam was back upstairs.
"You weren't Jerry West," he said.
"I swear it's true," I answered. "I was in the NBA just after I came back from Viet Nam."
Sam studied me for a long moment. I could see the wheels turning. How could it possibly be true?
"I'll just ask Grandma," he said.
Anyway...Syracuse lost. My pool went from being the number one contender to being just a piece of scrap paper. My entire weekend was lost to the Butler Freaking Bulldogs.
I swear, I was going to try and behave. Just basketball. No Jamesons, grey goose, or beer.
Now what the hell do I do? The hands of stone did me in?
What would Jerry West do in this situation?
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