I'm not big on basketball, which has always struck me as overly simple. I mean, is there anything more meaningless than the first three quarters of a basketball game? Normally I don't express these views because basketball players tend to be freakishly tall.
Recently, for reasons outside my control, I found myself awake at 6 a.m., and would you know that six grown men were playing basketball at the playground? Seriously. Even the sun was at Starbucks.
They were playing the hard way, too -- cursing, shouting, taunting each other's mamas. Part of me admired these men for their dedication, and another part of me wondered if this wasn't part of a drug rehab program.
A third part of me wanted to join in. I'd probably get smooshed and shoveled aside, but not before I got in a few good snaps: "Yo mama so fat, she wakes up in sections..." "So fat, she eat Wheat Thicks..." "So fat..."