Forgive the lack of blawging

My inability to blog regularly is based primarily on my lack of original ideas. I have like one or two a month and they often involve things like the best way to get to the airport or how to arrange my law books so they look the most impressive. Needless to say, they are not groundbreaking. And needless to say, they often are not shared on this blog because that would just be sad.

However, my main "original" idea lately has been focused on how with each new station in my life, I re-evaluate the opinions I previously held and find that I was, for lack of a better word, stupid. Now, this stupidity is not manifested in destructive decision-making or poor treatment of others. It is simply continued evidence that I seem to go through life perpetually learning things a bit too late.

When I would visit my grandparents' house in rural Missouri, I always enjoyed this tapestry "thing" they had in the guest bathroom. (I guess that considering its location it was "bathroom humor.") I don't recall everything it said - it was mostly focused on the humorous antics of European immigrants trying to farm in the New World - but the one line that has always stuck with me is where it said "You're too soon old and too late schmart!" (There were umlauts in there somewhere as well, but my typography skills are lacking).

I'm not old yet, but I think I need to get much schmarter much more quickly. I can think back to being a first-year student (you know, in 2007, about 20 years ago) and always wondering why the third-years never came to play basketball on Friday. Supposedly third-years didn't have to do anything and yet they never seemed to be available. Today, I am that third-year, and I can't play basketball on Fridays. I get text messages saying that people are playing, but I always have something I should be doing and normally end up doing instead.

I didn't understand what things were like at that time, but I do now. But with this realization comes the accompanying realization that I don't know what things are going to be like two years from now. I hope that I'll be able to adapt to those changes, but I also know that experience can be a cruel teacher.

In general, I am a little tired, and I need a break. Helpfully, I get one next week. In addition to doing real work, I am taking a trip to Sin City (a place not known for being old or schmart), which should be fun. I'm excited to see all of the world's greatest sights in miniature on top of hotels. They have to be at least as good as the real things, right?

After spring break, I will only have about six or seven weeks left, so I'll just have to put my head down and power through Michael Bluth-style. I don't know what it means that this semester, my last one, has probably been the hardest yet. It wasn't the way I meant for things to be, but I guess that just proves the thesis. Too often, I just don't know until it is too late.

In other news, Kat's friend Lena visited here in Tucson and a good time was had by all. Lemon bars were served.

I took the professional responsibility exam, but I won't know if I passed for an indeterminate length of time.

It has rained a ridiculous amount already this year. Washes that normally have no water in them actually look like rivers; it is quite disorienting.

The Suns seem to be winning more than they are losing.

There is a new episode of Castle on tonight. (Yes, I realize that it is basically Murder, She Wrote, but I like it anyway. I also like watching Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes, but mostly I just like watching it to make fun of him. I would like to write the definitive biography of Andy Rooney's eyebrows and am currently in discussions to do just that. I think it could easily be a bestseller.)

Aloha!

Pickup Blues

I could blog about Batson v. Kentucky or pickup basketball, so I chose the latter.

They closed the gym I played at last year on campus. Budget cuts, apparently. I just hope I actually get a diploma before they padlock the entire place or simply implode it.

So now my Friday afternoon fix requires a trip to the Rec Center. Little background on The Wreck, there was a line today of muscled dudes to get into the weight room. I am not joking. A fellow muscled dude with a badge was holding people up until someone came out. It was like the world's worst nightclub.

The basketball courts are pretty good though, and normally you don't have to wait too long. But today cemented my status as an old man who may be losing what little magic he had. I've been using the "up and under" a lot lately and other energy-conserving moves. I'm also staying back on defense a lot and not even running to the offensive end because either a turnover will send me scrambling back anyway or I'm too tired. I think soon the other players are going to start calling me "Pops."

Let me be clear: I don't think basketball has passed me by. I just think the subtly different form of "pickup basketball" has passed me by. Let me note a few examples simply from today.

1) I got my hand caught in a dude's hair! Yes, I went up for a rebound and nearly lost a finger because some guy wanted to both play basketball and look like Peter Tosh. That was a little traumatic for both of us.

2) I believe a bit too much in fairness. This manifests itself in many forms. Little enrages me more (in a very quiet manner) than calls based on the score. Calling your own fouls does not mean you have the right to deal with bumps at the beginning and then call a foul if someone breathes on you at the end. My rule is I don't call fouls by anyone on me. If they foul me hard enough for it to actually affect me, everyone will know it and will stop. As a result, this can hurt my effectiveness.

Secondly, on the matter of fairness, I won't stand for irregularities in "who got next." If two girls and a dude in a World B. Free throwback have been waiting, they get to play. There is no discussion. Today, a girl had been waiting game after game, so I told her she could play with me. When our turn came up, she got to play and run the point guard. Full disclosure, we got slaughtered, but I was happier with that outcome than if we had won and she had not gotten to play. I will not sit idly by while such tyranny is allowed to propagate unchecked!

3) I just want to play the way I play, but too many times guys on my team are telling me what to do. Today, I played my first game and we destroyed this other team. Then, those losing team's point guard joined our team because one of our guys left. In this next game, I was being guarded by a guy who probably could bench press around 400 pounds. As such, he played like a guy who can bench press 400 pounds (LeBron excepted, of course). Namely, he was a bit "mechanistic" and preferred brute force to wisdom or body control. But despite his obvious strength advantage, the fact that I was taller than Mr. Muscles by about three inches caused the new point guard to adamantly implore me to "post him up." My rule is I don't really post anything up (and that includes actual posts). Rather than take the advice, I just got the ball on the wing, drove around Mr. Universe and laid the ball in. This only angered The Hulk, who proceeded to bury me under the hoop repeatedly and call for the ball. I don't know if he ever scored, though.

Here's the point: let's just all play smart and make the intelligent play. Square pegs, round holes, make the extra pass, take what the defense gives us, cliche, well-worn mantra, etc.

4) I don't care as much as these guys anymore. Win or lose, I'm just glad to get to run around and clear my head. Basically, I just don't want to get hurt (and that includes any hair-related injuries), get a sweat going and then go home. That's the beauty of what we call "Law School Basketball." Everyone who plays agrees with those tenets and thus most problems are solved. We are still hoping to have Law School Basketball again this year, so I hope we can find enough people.

I admit that I sound like Walter Sobchak, but I don't think my suggestions are too much to ask. I do love pickup basketball and can think of few things that are more fun or easier to get involved in (you just show up and play, that's why basketball is great), but as I age I might be getting a little crotchety. Oh well, I guess it's my right.

Last things:

Gustav go away!

Cancer go away! (Some kind of harsh language on that link, but I think it's funny)