I was dreaming I was an American basketball player. Not a great one or one that anyone would make much note of, and maybe a few years past training. But, hey, I wasn't too bad. I was walking down the street and black Escalade pulls up and two burly guys jump out, grab me, and toss me into the back before I can say boo. After a few minutes the vehicle stops and someone pulls off the blindfold. It was GM-Jason. He puts a finger to my lips. "Shhhh...don’t be alarmed. I do this to all the American players in the database. I just want to check out all your attributes and then I'll drop you off and you can be on your way." The two goons with him are armed, so I really didn't see any choice but to comply. I'm directed to stand up while Jason circles around me with an appraising eye. "Damn, your attributes are balanced and solid, honey. Not National Team worthy, but with those strong handling skills I'll certainly go man to man against you next time we meet ..."
I woke up in a sweat. What the hell was that about?! Slowly it came back to me. I'm in Mexico covering the U21 tournament. Scrimmage game against Brazil. We won 64-60. After party. Mezcal. Dear God, I hope that was mezcal. Bloody worst freaking headache ever. I scribbled some stuff in my notebook from last night...I’m just going to submit it verbatim and go back to bed. If anyone wakes me before next weekend I swear I will go Artest on their ass.
9:15, Hotel bar party after the win over #8 Brazil. Sure, it was just scrimmage, but considering that this was the toughest team we’ll see for the next six weeks it meant a little something, as evidenced by the 21-9 4th quarter come from behind effort tonight and the tight D play by both teams all game.
10:12, found coach by the bar…
fewmit: So, the trend these days is to not even suit up players for scrimmages. Why such a rebel?
magiker: Is that a banana?
fewmit: Inside Iso? Any truth to the rumor that you’re deciding offenses with a 10-sided die this season?
magiker: Seriously, how are you able to walk with that there?
fewmit: Hey, no questionings. I’m the interviewering dude here.
10:25-10:42, interviewered the Porcelain God. Repeatedly.
11:05, interviewered PG Lyle Vickers
fewmit: Hey, you’re. like…the MVP of the game. Right? You had the go-ahead dunk…fan-freaking-tastic!
Vickers: Oh, yeah. Funny thing was the play called for McHugh to…
fewmit: Duuuuuuude. Don’t be so modest. You’re the star of the squad, now. All the rest of these journeyman wannabes aren’t worthy to lick your skid-marked shorts with a ten foot pole.
Vickers: I think…what?
11:47, PF Chucky Parsons accidentally made eye contact…
fewmit: Jesus, you’re tall.
Parsons: Uhh, hey. Coach said not to talk to you tonight.
fewmit: I mean really. You saw those Brazilian dudes. They’re all, like, five foot five. No wonder we won. And the messthed up thing is that their women are freaking tall…Brazilian supermodels are all six-six or something. They should play thupermodels on their team…they’d kick ass over everyone…
Parsons: Coach! He keeps doing that thing with the banana.
magiker: fewmit, go back to your f…ing room before I call the bouncers.
fewmit: Piss off. You can’t silenceth the media! I’m telling it like it isth. And my room isth smelly, you cheap jagoff bastard….hey, leggo of me!
Group hug!