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hoops, hope, and delusions of grandeur
September 30, 2004
No beer tonight. Not necessary. Lately, I've been self-medicating, substituting my favorite beer for seratonin and endorphins, for peace, for comfort, and for hope.
But not tonight. This week has been incredible, a revolution if I persist, and if I make it so, if I don't let it only be a passing moment. For so long, the key word for me has been "hope." It's what I've increasingly become desperate to find again, just something, some "maybe", some "could be" to keep me moving, to keep me trying. Much of that process is in looking for signs. Well, this week has offered them in spades.
First of all, we are the champions, my friends. Bear with me, please, because I'm about to talk about basketball. But soft, this is not so much about basketball, as it is about hope, and desire, and the persistence of spirit, and people I consider my friends.
For several months now, I've coached a women's basketball team. Last season, we were called the "5, 6, 7, 8's", after the all-Japanese girl kitsch rock band featured in Kill Bill. This season, we went with the Deadly Viper Assasination Squad, which, unfortunately, was shortened to DiVAS, which had to sound a bit arrogant. As if "Deadly Viper Assasination Squad" doesn't.
At any rate, the women I coach are indeed women - not kids, but grown women that range in age from 23 to 30-something. Many of them haven't played at all in years. Only a couple had ever played together. We've played two 8-game seasons in the past few months, against teams that are generally younger, often more athletic and experienced, and that have played together for years. We started off losing 4 games last season, but the team grew, individually and together, and we won half of our remaining games.
This season, we played in a league with only 3 teams. Every third week, we had to play a double-header to make the schedule come out right. One of the teams, the Lady Knights, is a young, quick, scrappy team that had never won a game in either season until last week, when they beat us in overtime. The other team, Mt. Sinai, has never lost that I'm aware of, in either season. We came close to beating them once, but they truly (sorry girls) have us beaten on paper, in terms of their athleticism, skill, and experience. Last week, in the second game of our double-header, they beat us soundly, by 20 or 30 points, as they had before.
So, tonight, we played in a tournament to determine the league champion. We first played the Lady Knights, and once again, they gave us a spirited game, and we barely came out with the win, even with my team playing better, more disciplined basketball than they had in a while. In the last minute of the game, Mirsa, our starting point guard, went down in a pile-up, twisting her knee pretty badly. She was carried off the court in a good deal of pain. We played the last minute out, and won.
We started the second game with an unusual lineup of players, and Mirsa sitting with an icepack on her knee. My team took the floor against Mt. Sinai with a determination, verve and composure that I haven't seen in a long time. They played under control on offense, knowing that we were at our best being patient, taking our time and passing the ball. When a team does this, it's a beautiful thing to watch - the ball moves crisply and quickly from side to side, and the defense has to keep shifting. Eventually, in the process of shifting, a defense will break down, and opportunities present themselves. Tonight, that's what my team was determined to do, and where they once would look uncertain on offense against this supposedly superior team, they looked as if they were in control, unflappable, and determined to play the game their way.
On defense as well as offense, my team played intelligently and with the singular purpose and mind of a true team, and looked more experienced than the more experienced team. They played with intensity and focus, and appeared more athletic than the more athletic team. They played with incredible heart and passion, and appeared more skilled than the more skilled team.
Individually, everyone decided to be horribly cliche, digging down and finding the best they had. Vicky, who's my basketball mate for life, was a warrior, fighting for rebounds, taking and giving blows down low under the basket one moment, picking apart the defense with pinpoint passes the next. Laurel was dynamic, looking more 6'7" than the 5'10" she alleges she stands at, skying for rebounds. Jennifer, with her parents looking on, rebounded, fought for loose balls, and made some nifty Sportscenter passes. Darby unleashed the greatest barrage of clutch shots I've ever seen from her. Airon was the terrible and awesome maelstrom of effort and intensity she always is, beating players down the court both ways, and driving towards the basket with the ball like she was charging the enemy with a bayonnet. And while they got no playing time in the second game, Dina and Cheryl's efforts in the first game insured that we would make it to the second game, and a little better rested at that.
Mt. Sinai usually makes a run in the second half, with increased pace and their outstanding 3-point shooting. As devastating as that onslaught is, the psychological effect is devastating, and it's like some bell rings deeply and sonorously to portend the inevitable loss.
The run came, and the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad didn't waver, never became flustered. They continued playing perfect, zen-like basketball, fire and coolness in harmony, intensity and desire meshed seamlessly with smart and methodical efficiency. Tonight, Mt. Sinai heard the bell. They became flustered, they wavered.
The last minutes of the second game saw Mirsa return to the game for Airon, who had to leave because she was bleeding from the punishment the increasingly desperate Mt. Sinai players wantonly dished out on her. Those final minutes were more joy and anxiety-ridden I've ever known, as every shot missed or made became more critical, every foul call pivotal, every turnover potentially disastrous.
But the impossible happened. 37-36. Beating the team that had never lost, we took the league championship. As Mt. Sinai missed its last, potentially game-winning shot as time expired, my team, our friends, and I exploded with pride, relief, and just simple, raw joy.
I imagine some people stopped reading this a while back, because a lot of my friends don't understand or like sports. That's cool, I've been there. Someone may deny the importance of tonight some significance because "it's just a game," and just an amateur league, at that. But the path of this team of individuals through these two seasons, and through the games tonight, is about more than learning the fundamentals of a game. We succeeded because the game of basketball demanded the best qualities of character in the individuals, and they responded. We succeeded because these truly extraordinary people bought into the bigger concepts of teamwork and sacrifice and effort. And, we succeeded because they went through the process to find ways to connect with each other and work together as one.
This is my fourth basketball championship, three as a player on teams I took pride in assembling, this my first as a coach. Yet, I've never been prouder of anything in all my years playing sports than I was tonight. I wanted the win for them so badly because they've earned it, and because I've really come to love and respect these women, these friends of mine. This memory, this pride, and this love will always be one of the things in my life that will be closest to my heart.
So, now how much would you expect to pay for the week I've had? But wait, there's more!
Earlier this year, I had another event that ranks as one of the prouder moments in my life. A piece I wrote was accepted for publication in a project called Writing Austin's Lives, produced by the University of Texas Humanities Institute. The book was released back in May, and I went to the release celebration. The lovely and talented Sylvia Gale, one of the editors of the book and the project coordinator, handed me my free copy. I walked outside to wait for my parents, and there it was, the last story in the book, with my name in a simple, elegant font. I still remember the afterimage of my own printed name from staring at it in the bright sunlight.
While the book is, I think, important, and an outstanding, well-produced body of historical and cultural documentation, I know it's not such a huge deal. But I was pretty freakin' floored by it all.
Last month, my 15 quiet minutes were prolonged, when the lovely and talented Sylvia Gale sent an invitation to join four or five other authors from the book to read and discuss our stories at the Texas Book Fair on October 31, at the State Capitol. The impact and import of this immediately struck me - reading my work at the Texas Book Fair, just like Ethan Hawke a year or two ago. Wow. Mmm... literary chicks. OK, so I'm no Ethan Hawke... well... Mmm... literate chicks. Perhaps still a bit overreaching, I suppose... Mmm... literally... chicks.
But seriously, let's be realistic. Visions of me in a silk smoking jacket signing autographs for adoring literary, literate, or even just literal women are sophomorically unrealistic. But no doubt Sandra Bullock might be there, might stop by as an interested Austinite. Of course. Perfectly logical. And without all the women flocking around me annoyingly like they do in my initial fantasy, I'll be free to approach her suavely and ask her out. You watch, I'll do it.
So, anyway, back to this week - another email yesterday from the lovely and talented Sylvia Gale, after 5:00PM, alerting us that the book has won an Austin Chronicle Best of Austin award, and that we can go to the bash, with it's lure of free food, free drink, and maybe, I don't know, Sandra Bullock. Well, that wasn't in the email, but it's a logical assumption. Anyway, I had plans already and didn't want to ditch my friends Jennifer and Jenna (collectively known as The Jennafer). How would that look to Sandy Bullock, knowing I had abandoned friends to meet her, even if it was to begin our new lives together and ensure the birth of our three beautiful children, Jordan, Elijah, and Ezekiel Joe?
So, I didn't go. But it turns out that the 127 authors in the book won the Critic's Award for Best Local Author, collectively. So, I'm 1/127 the Best Local Author. I wonder if I'll get my own banner to hang off my apartment balcony, or if I have to share it with the other 126 people, like they do the Stanley Cup? Do I get a free T-Shirt? Has Sandra met any of those other people? Will she know me by my T-Shirt? And, if I'm such a hot writer, why did I just capitalize "t-shirt" twice?
So, wow, I really can't complain so much about life this week. I even won the monthly parking stakes this week (with four $1.00 entries, carefully crumpled to exacting topological shapes to maximize their drawability), so I get to park in the garage under the building for a month, making Fado's and Gingerman even better post-work options.
Finally, as if all that isn't enough, there's a film that's been getting some limited release the past couple of weeks that takes in large part from some of my experiences - Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. They had to get that Jude Law dude to play me to kind of sex my character down just a hair, plus, if George Lucas taught us anything, white folks love their science fiction stars to speak with British accents. Actress, sometimes karaoke singer and Apple grower Gwyneth Paltrow plays Sandra Bullock.
Posted by Rob at September 30, 2004 11:14 PM