They Call Me Hapless

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I remember playing in an 8th grade basketball game. My team and I were playing Eden and we were woefully over-matched. The final score of the game was about 75 to 22.

I recall looking at the clock in the last quarter and thinking that 7 minutes left was never going to pass. I also remember shooting about 1 for 10 in the game, including a couple of long, rainbow, air balls.

My coach met me at the bench as the game came to a close.

"You're hapless!" he said. "I'm hapless! We're all hapless!"

I remember laughing. Hapless - is a great word. I felt hapless that afternoon, and unfortunately I've felt hapless many more times in my life, in a wide variety of venues.

Looking at a car engine of a flat tire - I'm hapless.

Trying to hammer a nail or turn a screw - fairly hapless.

Winning a discussion with my beautiful wife - very hapless.

Trying to talk sense into my kids about Buffalo sports teams - undeniably hapless.

Of course, this all comes to mind because of the NY Post article regarding the Bills-Jets game yesterday:

JETS POUND HAPLESS BILLS SENSELESS.

Hapless and senseless.

Beautiful.

I've been hapless and senseless too, but that has usually come immediately after the 3rd martini.

That old basketball coach was right about one thing though - if I remember right - he was one hapless son of a bitch.

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