Phasing LeBron

I’m a witness.  Yes, I mean that as a reference to my allegiance to the Cleveland Cavaliers.  But also, I mean that because I think I have it solved.  Ok, maybe not solved, but during this weekend’s happenings I “witnessed” the only thing that seems to phase the great LBJ. 

At this point he is the most indestructible force in any major sport.  He is a 6’9”, 275 pound freight train that can… and can… (I could use the next 250 words to attempt to write what he can do at that size, but only your imagination can approach doing it justice). 

History will remember LeBron’s 2009 playoffs with his 24 ft three-pointer with 1.0 second on the clock to win game 2 of the Eastern Conference Finals.  I thought it was a fabulous shot, one that should go down in history as a great clutch shot.  Was it the best of all time?  Not quite.  It was the greatest player in the game, coming up big in the biggest of moments.  I, at least for the time being, will remember the happenings of this past weekend through two additional moments that I have appropriately titled, “Phasing LeBron.”

Notice the title wasn’t “stopping LeBron.”  I don’t think anyone, or anything at this point could stop LeBron.   As you watch him play you see him smacked in the head, clothes lined, kicked, and the rest, and he continues to plow through people “un-phased.”  The greatest example of him being “un-phased” was after he hit the winner in game 2.  If you watch the replay, which has been played an estimated 13000 times since, you will notice that as he turns to run down court, Sasha Pavlovic (6-7 235 lbs) wraps his arms around him and basically hangs on for dear life.  LeBron proceeds to carry Pavlovic a couple feet and then does a jumping chest bump with Anderson Varejao.  WHAT?!?!? Carrying an extra 235 lbs and does a jumping chest bump with a guy that is 7 feet tall.  Tell me if he did that at the NFL combine GM’s wouldn’t exempt him from the other stations and just move on to everyone else because they know he’ll be the number one pick.  People are crazy to think he wouldn’t be a stud in the NFL.

But anyway, fast forward to Game 3 where I noticed the film that every NFL team would be watching to at least “phase” the King.  It wasn’t the NBA’s defensive player of the year, Dwight Howard, nor was it any magic player that was guarding him, it was the basketball itself.  As LeBron threw down a dunk in the second quarter and turned to run up court, the ball bounced up and hit him in the side of the face.  His reaction is the same as Kramer’s in the Seinfeld episode “The Magic Lougie” when Keith Hernandez spits at he and Newman.  His head snapped back, knees nearly buckled, and for the first time in a long time, LeBron looked off-balance.   Really?  This is the same guy that time and time again blasts “un-phased” through all of the hacks, clothes lines, kicks...  

To me, that bounce of the basketball represented the element of surprise.  LeBron has arguably the greatest court vision of any player to date.  His great vision allows him to be not only a great passer, but to be a great scorer because he can analyze the defense and already knows when the aforementioned contact is going to come, thus eliminating any surprise factor effecting his shot.  The Magic have become that element of surprise this series for the Cavaliers.  For over a month we have heard nothing but LeBron vs Kobe in the finals, causing the other teams in the playoffs to sort of fade out of focus.  I’m certain that as much as the Cavs have tried to avoid it, the image of them vs the Lakers in the finals has been right in front of them.  Let’s hope that the bounce of the basketball that knocked LeBron a bit off balance, serves as a wake up call to he and his teammates, so that we can remember his shot, rather than the Cavs getting surprised by the Magic. 

Until next time, 

You've Got Meal

Many readers of this blog have at one time or another received a picture message from yours truly.  Some include an explanation in the form of a caption, and some are just pictures of random things.  Ever since I selected a phone with a camera on it, I have been entertained, for whatever reason, by the ability to snap a shot of something, and immediately send it to 10-90 people.  Two years ago, I was introduced to the idea of sending pictures of a prepared meal to let all of your friends know what you are about to eat.  I was with Jord in Delaware and he received a picture message from his buddy Fritz with a picture of his dinner.  Fritz was about to take part in a smorgasbord of meats prepared on the grill.  Jord showed me the picture, and my reaction was “oooo.”  The “oooo” wasn’t only for how good the meat looked, but also because I was fascinated with the idea of sending a picture of a meal. 

I know.  It sounds uneventful, dumb, stupid, less than entertaining, dull, immature, and just plain waste-of-time-ish, to everyone who is too good to appreciate a good picture of a meal. However, I am here to tell you that picture mealing has become something I look forward to each week and I encourage everyone to participate in one of my favorite hobbies. 

Incase you haven’t had the good fortune of being included on one of my picture meal lists, I am introducing this to my entire blogosphere, (ha, both of you). 

Until next time, 

Disobeying Doctor's Orders

So Coach and I made our springtime visit to the vet this morning.  The heartworm check, urinalysis, and medication pick up, you know, the routine stuff.  The stuff that is about as routine as an oil change.  But, like we all know, an oil change is rarely routine.

An oil change and a vet visit have a lot in common, and the most unfortunate thing about both of these is that I know little to nothing about cars, and my expertise on dogs goes about as far as seeing her tail wag and knowing she’s happy (absolute brilliance).   The scary thing about both of these conditions is that I think the people at the shop, and the people at the vet office know exactly that.  They could tell me anything, and I suppose I have to take them at their word (and then spend money).

Here is Today’s story.  Coach developed a bit of a limp this week.  She must have hurt her back right leg while playing with her buddy Rocky down the street on Tuesday evening or just laying on it wrong.  Either way, the limp has been off and on but has not been accompanied by any whimpering or any other sign of pain.  Of course it is bothering her, or she would walk on it all the time.   However, it isn’t bothering her nearly enough to cause her to not want to go on a walk, not want to jump on the bed, or not want to hang out the window while resting on just her back legs on the way to the vet, so she’s fine right?  (this is a scheduled appointment, it is not because of her limp).  So we enter the vet and she has blood drawn for the heartworm, they clip her nails, weigh her, (again the routine) and then because Coach has decided that this was a perfect opportunity for people to feel sorry for her and give her an extra treat, she decides this will be her time of the day to limp (side note: she doesn’t limp that much at all, she did this same thing 4 months ago, and got over it in about 12 hours, and has been fine since).  So the vet wants to check it out.  So she begins to feel her legs. She is doing the exact same thing I did with Coach when I was trying to see if there was any pain at the touch.  My diagnosis was that there was no pain at the touch, and Coach will eventually get over it.  Her diagnosis was that there was definitely something wrong, and Coach is obviously very tense, so they’ll need to get X-rays.  CAPTAIN OBVIOUS.  What gave it away?  The blatantly obvious limp?  You think she is doing that for dramatic affect?  First of all, she is tense because you picked her up and placed her on a steel table that she is slipping all over the place on, and has been tense on since you put her up there 5 minutes ago and started pricking her with needles to draw blood and raised it up with a motor to make her feel even more uncomfortable and... (you get the point).  If there is a dog that comes in there and is not tense on there then I think THAT is when you start to diagnose problems.  Dogs hate that damn table.  Second, you still have her on the damn table!!!

Ok, here is the hard part.  With a car, it’s very easy to say “alright, thanks, I’ll keep an eye on the specs for the rotary girder.”  With a dog, the guilt I have by not spending the $400 for an X-ray just sits in me.  It’s horrible.  Coach cannot sit there and tell me how bad it really is, I just have to guess.  I have to be (in my mind) this horrible person that isn’t treating their dog right because he won’t go find the real problem.  If I knew for sure that this is something that HAD to be done, I’d pay the $400 in a heartbeat.  But, because my expertise in dogs tells me that she is as happy as ever, still wants to go on walks all the time, still jumps around to meet me when I come home from work, sprints out the front door to greet Dan when she comes home, hops on and off the bed willingly, plays with the neighborhood dogs, chases her tennis ball until complete exhaustion sets in, and doesn’t limp 95% of the time, I’m going to delay the procedure and go against doctors orders.

The unfortunate part is that the $400 is just to identify the problem, chances are they tell me to keep an eye on it, and give me a $2500 solution if it gets any worse.  So, I’ve decided to skip the $400, and go to step 2, keep an eye on it.  If she ever turns down a walk, or decides not to use her leg for an extended period of time, then I’ll take her in drop the big bucks.    

Besides I think Coach would rather the $400 go to more rawhides and tennis balls anyway.

Until next time, 

The Usual

I have always been someone who thoroughly enjoys “people watching.”  People interacting with one another, to me, are one of the most phenomenal things to sit back and watch.  I love thinking about social experiments, social networking, and social class and how each of these things actually come to be. 

I also like to think about “social status.”  The fascinating thing about social status is that the only way one really obtains a social status is by being judged by someone else.  Judging people is a whole different blog, but for anyone to say they don’t judge others on a regular basis, whether good or bad, is kidding themselves.  (I’m not talking negative-stereotype style judgment, I’m just talking human-nature-first-impression style judgment.  whatever, I’ll write about it later.)

There are thousands of “social statuses” I could talk about, but I’m convinced one of the most prestigious of statuses has to be that of being a “regular” at a local breakfast joint.  While for some people it could be a depressing, eating disorder-inducing status, I view it as a rather comforting feeling of accomplishment. 

There is only one way to accurately judge this, and to me you are a regular when you can walk in and order “the usual.”  I am happy to announce to everyone that I have finally achieved this celebrated status.  I cannot remember the exact date, but it was early one Friday morning of this school year.  I got up early, as I do every Friday, and made my way to Jack’s Diner on route 23 in Delaware to meet Brent for breakfast.  We walked in and sat down at “our” booth, and when Danielle (“our” waitress) greeted us, she said, “you guys want the usual?”

WOW!!!!    What a feeling!  We had done it!  We had reached the peak of social status.  We were able to order “the usual.”  It was kind of like that feeling that Ace Ventura probably got when he couldn’t connect Einhorn and Finkle, and then finally his little dog laid down on the picture of Ray Finkle’s head and he saw the face with long hair (Ok, maybe bad analogy, but to me it makes perfect sense) and then was overcome with excitement.  I find myself wanting the Diner even more now, my excitement is more each week because I know when I walk in, I don’t have to say anything.   My coffee, and water come as I sit, and all it takes is a nod of the head for “the usual.”

Our weekly trip to the Diner gives me something to constantly look forward to.  It is a symbol of a Friday, sort of a weekend appetizer.   I’ve heard the saying that the only certain things in life are death and taxes.  True I guess, but another certainty is where I’ll be for breakfast next Friday morning, the usual.

 

Until Next Time,