Check out my toe
So I’ve recently started playing basketball with other English grad students, who are surprisingly competitive. It doesn’t help that I’m five eight and I can jump like two inches. But like all little guys, I know some dirty moves. Anyways, tonight’s games were capped off with a surprisingly close game in which Anna and I took on three guys who were all over six foot tall and only lost 8-11. The reward for my labors is this monster blister on my big toe: That’s real. Cause I ball. But my foot isn’t really that yellow. I hope.
April 27th, 2006 at 6:38 am
Kick-ass.
Before all of us in the English department started playing poker, we played basketball. I learned that despite the fact that I was the only non-smoker, I was also in the worst shape. And I’ve never been a good shot.
On the plus side, I could jump higher than anybody who played regularly, and I’d gained 50 pounds since my amateur league days. I have fond memories of clearing out rows of lithe and steely undergrads like bowling pins before an 18-lb ball, and fonder memories of stuffing the hell out of shots made by people who were much, much more skilled than me.
Glad to know the tradition lives.