Velcrometer
Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
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M. Giant's Velcrometer Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks |
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Saturday, March 17, 2007 Superfan Trash and I have been to two Timberwolves games this season. Her dad has season tickets, and they're really great seats -- not Spike Lee great, but about eight rows up off the floor. They'd be even better if the rows were further apart, but you can't have everything. I just hope these seats aren't wasted on me, because I'm nobody's idea of a sports fan. I mean, my first post here was five years ago Monday, and I think this is the first time I've written about sports. But Trash digs basketball, plus it's nice to get out of the house and drink beer in public for an occasional evening. The seats we borrowed are even better, though, because there are servers there. As in, waitrons who bring food and beer right to us. I didn't know that everyone doesn't get that until the other night. I was picking the tomatoes out of my chicken wrap with the tiny plastic sword used to spear the fruit garnish, and Trash asked me why I hadn't ordered it with no tomatoes. I gestured at the three-quarters-full arena and said, "I'm not going to make her deal with special instructions when she's got fifteen thousand other people to serve as well." Trash gently explained to me that this wasn't exactly the case. Next time I'm asking for no tomatoes. My sister DeBitch the Elder was nice enough to come over and babysit. We weren't too worried about what time she got there, because it's not like we absolutely have to be there in time for the kick-off. M. Small was like, "Bye!" and we were on our way. The first time we went, Trash said she would answer any questions I had about the game, but that turned out to not be entirely sincere. Last time she would just kind of look at me. I thought it was because I was sitting on her left and she can't hear as well through that ear. This time I sat on her right. I thought it would be harder for her to ignore my questions this time, but since most of the basketball field was to our left, I ended up spending a lot of time directing my questions at the back of her head. "What does K.G. stand for?" "Wouldn't it be easier if they just carried the ball instead of bouncing it all the time?" "Who let that white guy on the field?" "Do you think the people who wipe up the sweat are only doing it so they can get into the league someday?" "Don't you think it's odd that most of the cheerleaders are actually kind of ugly?" "Is that or is it not the absolute worst comb-over you've ever seen?" "Why are they shooting at each other's baskets now?" I got better, though. In fact, I'd say I'm an excellent basketball spectator now. I'm great at picking which one of the cartoon Chevrolets will win the fake race around the arena, and I stood up and cheered for the two suburban chicks playing tic-tac-toe during the second quarter stretch. So far I haven't won anything or caught a home run, but I think that's just going to take more practice. And most importantly, I'm really good at picking the right time to leave to beat traffic. When there's seven minutes left and the Tea-Wolves (that's what we call them here for some reason) have just come back from a 12-point deficit to steal the lead? Nobody leaves then, so you've got the roads to yourself. In fact, I've gotten so good at going to basketball games that I suggested we buy season tickets of our own next year. Of course, we'd have to let other people use them a lot, because I wouldn't want to go more than once every couple of months or so. Labels: sports, sports fans, sports jacket posted by M. Giant 1:40 PM 3 comments3 Comments:I'm with you! Every couple of months is just about...perfect! (I grew up with sport fanatics as father and brothers, and sister. Not my cup of tea.) The game does sound like fun, the way you watch, hehe.
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Our new place in Chicago will be just a couple of blocks from the red line, so we can take the El right to Wrigley Field and see the Cubs some beautiful summer Sunday afternoon.
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Your basketball questions crack me up. It took me five years of being at almost every Sixers home game (hazard of my job) to realize that they have to bring the ball past midcourt before 8 seconds have elapsed or else they turn the ball over.
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