I must learn your secrets. How do manage to play basketball all by yourself? I’ll ponder you for a moment…
Directly to the NBA right out of high school, the all-time leading scorer in Lakers history, middle name: Bean, the now (in)famous line, "Although I truly believe this encounter between us was consensual, I recognize now that she did not and does not view this incident the same way I did." – you truly are a magical, maniacal man.
You may recall from a previous post my proclivity for punching old ladies. Well. A row of 60+ year old women sat directly in front of me with thundersticks, launching high school ballgame chants, and wearing headbands with big purple balls bouncing on top, stealing little kids. No joke; one of the ladies literally turned around and grabbed the kid sitting next to me (who thoughtfully smacked me in the face with his thunderstick several times during the game) and pulled him down to their row. The look on his face was that of sheer terror. I felt kind of bad because I saw it happening and didn’t try to help the little guy. I figured the grannies would take care of him. His mother didn’t seem to mind, anyway. The grannies were loud and for some reason they loved sharing popcorn. They were just passing popcorn all around. I hate that smell and damn it, I was trying to watch the game. Granted our (Erik and I) seats were much better this time around... row 3, section 210, seats 14 and 15. I took 14 because I’m superstitious about odd numbers during Suns games. That helped the situation. I thought we were done for, however, when I realized right in the first few seconds of the 1st quarter that I was sitting in front of two very vocal Lakers fans. Funny thing about these people, though. One was a big, big man and he was grumpy. I attempted a high-five just before the half. Why? What the hell? What is up with this weirdo trying to high-five a Lakers fan? Well…he looked kind of sad. I felt bad for him. He told me to high-five his friend in the Suns jersey next to him. I did, but I was disappointed. Later I patted him on the leg and told him, “its okay dude.” I also turned to him and said, “Kobe is pissed!” which made him pretty happy. The other Lakers fan next to him was a butch betty who totally freaked me out. I could not and would not look her in the eye. I feared for Erik as he sat directly in front of her. She had…big hairy legs. Are you wondering yet if I was actually watching the game?
OF COURSE I WAS!
After the game a reporter asked you how you were feeling. Just one word: “Jovial.” Really? Howard Beck of the New York Times said, “It was indeed a jovial night at U.S. Airways Center, but the revelers were all wearing orange. Bryant wore four shades of snarl after his Los Angeles Lakers buckled against the hard-charging, rocket-fueled Phoenix Suns.” I love that description. I could see the frustration on your face from way up top – I could feel it, really.
Were you upset that the Suns bench made the Lakers bench look like Saturday morning cartoons (and not the neat 80’s and early 90’s versions)? Were you completely annoyed with Dragic’s crazy moves and Dudley’s awesome D? Did you roll your eyes when Frye decided to wake up and get back in the game? Were you a little surprised (I was) with Barbosa’s contributions?
In trying to leave a comment on Seth Pollack’s article I ran into some difficulty because, I think, there are just so many comments already, but I was going to say he hit the nail on the head when he wrote, “…guys that aren't playing for individual glory or to avoid Kobe's wrath” – talking about the Suns bench. What do you think of that Kobe? Tell us how you really feel.