The Greatest to Ever Come Out of Cardiff by the Sea?
July/26/2007 12:23 PM Filed in: Hoops
While I was home in Cardiff (San Diego), I got wind of some basketball tournament at Glen Park. Glen Park is where I grew up playing since I was 8 years old. If I was a star in EA Sports NBA Street, Glen Park would be my home court and my story would tell of days ballin at the park, drankin slurpees at 7 Eleven, then walking to the beach. Anyways, I was told that the Glen Park Classic (GPC) would be held while I was back in Cardiff. At first I had no interest in the event. Why would I? I grew up playing against these guys my whole life and I had never even heard of the GPC. Also, I spent the last two weeks guarding guys like Rudy Gay and Chris Kaman, what could really come out of participating in the GPC?
It then dawned on me that Cardiff is my town. I, through the GPC, could be crowned the greatest player Cardiff has to offer. I mean the population is only like 8,000 and there's not even a high school there, but that crown would make competing worthwhile in my mind. I had Kelly place the call to Kam Walton, cousin of NBA Star Luke Walton. They already had 6 men for the 4 on 4 affair, so he cut some guy who played his college ball at Iowa, I guess he was no Rod Benson. Our team included Kam, Adam Olson, Myself, Tyler Newton, who played at UOP, Jordan Feramisco, my former high school teammate and San Diego county player of the year, Dave Bradley, another Torrey Pines High star who actually was Iowa's punter and former roommate of Jared Reiner (small world huh?). So, exactly one week after going against Randy Foye, Corey Brewer, Rashad McCants, and Craig Smith, I was lining up against No name guy #1, #2, #3, and #4 at the GPC.
People setting up camp early at the GPC
The tourney was single elimination, 16 team tourney format. Round 1 was to 21 by one's and two's, while all other rounds were to 15 the same way. Our first game was against Team Harley Davidson. Frankly it was so easy beating this team that I was laughing during the game. We won 21-9, but it could have easily been 21-0 had we cared enough to play tough D. The team we were supposed to play in the second round watched us play our first round game and I think it worried them that we went 6'10", 6'10", 6'8", 6'5" with our starting 4, while they were 6'11", 6'3",6'2", 5'11". The big guy supposedly played at Utah State a few years back, but I had never heard of him.
So as I am watching other games waiting for our second round game, the big Utah State guy walks past me, looks me dead in the eye, all serious as can be, and says in his best "thuggish" voice: "I'll see you at one thirty." I looked at my boys like "Is this guy serious?" I wanted to tell him that I was only there to sweat out the party from the night before, but he kept it moving. Later he found me again and in the same voice as before (maybe it's just his voice) said: "The winner of our game will be the champions. I hope you know that." His words, although meaningless, did quite a good job of getting me hyped up for our game.
Once game time came, I was dunking slapping the backboard, running my mouth on every play, doing whatever to let them know who the greatest was. Well after a couple near fights between some of their guys and some of ours, I decided to shut up. Of course mr. big man threw out the "I heard good things about you and this is how you act?" line. He was the one who turned up the heat. He shouldn't be in the kitchen if he cant take the heat. As he was talking, I did a keyboard motion to Kelly and Conor, who were on the sidelines watching, basically letting them know that I would have to put this guy into the blog just because he was so out there.
After that game, we had the fast track to the finals. Yea, there were some competitive teams, but nothing stood out to me...until the final game. The guys we saw in the finals weren't big, they weren't fast, or strong, or athletic, but what they lacked in those areas they made for in heart, and intelligence and it pissed me off because they knew exactly how to work the system. We got down 7-5 in a game to 15 and I got a little worried. I pushed the ball up, and the worst ref in Cardiff (he earned the title that day too) called me for a charge, but I thought he called me for traveling, so I snapped on him. I wanted a tech so bad I could taste it. Boom. Got one tho. After their free throw, we were down 8-5, that's when we turned it up and went on a 10-2 run to end the game as champions.
It really wasn't that big a deal to me, I just felt justified in calling myself the greatest player in Cardiff now. I guess to Kam Walton it was much more. Kam had spent years trying to win the GPC Cup and had always come up short, including 2 losses in the finals. This year was different though. He proudly took the cup home with him to celebrate. I assume thats what Gary Payton did when he finally got a ring, right? Well, Kam, heck, our whole team did much more than relish the Cup. We used it.
I think the cup held something like 6 beers, yet nobody ever let it get completely full because it was way too much fun to empty it, feel me?
I came home as the forgotten son of Cardiff, and I left as the greatest. Kam got him trophy, and big man from Utah got his fill of Rod Benson. Some might even say he got too much Rod Benson.
It then dawned on me that Cardiff is my town. I, through the GPC, could be crowned the greatest player Cardiff has to offer. I mean the population is only like 8,000 and there's not even a high school there, but that crown would make competing worthwhile in my mind. I had Kelly place the call to Kam Walton, cousin of NBA Star Luke Walton. They already had 6 men for the 4 on 4 affair, so he cut some guy who played his college ball at Iowa, I guess he was no Rod Benson. Our team included Kam, Adam Olson, Myself, Tyler Newton, who played at UOP, Jordan Feramisco, my former high school teammate and San Diego county player of the year, Dave Bradley, another Torrey Pines High star who actually was Iowa's punter and former roommate of Jared Reiner (small world huh?). So, exactly one week after going against Randy Foye, Corey Brewer, Rashad McCants, and Craig Smith, I was lining up against No name guy #1, #2, #3, and #4 at the GPC.
People setting up camp early at the GPC
The tourney was single elimination, 16 team tourney format. Round 1 was to 21 by one's and two's, while all other rounds were to 15 the same way. Our first game was against Team Harley Davidson. Frankly it was so easy beating this team that I was laughing during the game. We won 21-9, but it could have easily been 21-0 had we cared enough to play tough D. The team we were supposed to play in the second round watched us play our first round game and I think it worried them that we went 6'10", 6'10", 6'8", 6'5" with our starting 4, while they were 6'11", 6'3",6'2", 5'11". The big guy supposedly played at Utah State a few years back, but I had never heard of him.
So as I am watching other games waiting for our second round game, the big Utah State guy walks past me, looks me dead in the eye, all serious as can be, and says in his best "thuggish" voice: "I'll see you at one thirty." I looked at my boys like "Is this guy serious?" I wanted to tell him that I was only there to sweat out the party from the night before, but he kept it moving. Later he found me again and in the same voice as before (maybe it's just his voice) said: "The winner of our game will be the champions. I hope you know that." His words, although meaningless, did quite a good job of getting me hyped up for our game.
Once game time came, I was dunking slapping the backboard, running my mouth on every play, doing whatever to let them know who the greatest was. Well after a couple near fights between some of their guys and some of ours, I decided to shut up. Of course mr. big man threw out the "I heard good things about you and this is how you act?" line. He was the one who turned up the heat. He shouldn't be in the kitchen if he cant take the heat. As he was talking, I did a keyboard motion to Kelly and Conor, who were on the sidelines watching, basically letting them know that I would have to put this guy into the blog just because he was so out there.
After that game, we had the fast track to the finals. Yea, there were some competitive teams, but nothing stood out to me...until the final game. The guys we saw in the finals weren't big, they weren't fast, or strong, or athletic, but what they lacked in those areas they made for in heart, and intelligence and it pissed me off because they knew exactly how to work the system. We got down 7-5 in a game to 15 and I got a little worried. I pushed the ball up, and the worst ref in Cardiff (he earned the title that day too) called me for a charge, but I thought he called me for traveling, so I snapped on him. I wanted a tech so bad I could taste it. Boom. Got one tho. After their free throw, we were down 8-5, that's when we turned it up and went on a 10-2 run to end the game as champions.
It really wasn't that big a deal to me, I just felt justified in calling myself the greatest player in Cardiff now. I guess to Kam Walton it was much more. Kam had spent years trying to win the GPC Cup and had always come up short, including 2 losses in the finals. This year was different though. He proudly took the cup home with him to celebrate. I assume thats what Gary Payton did when he finally got a ring, right? Well, Kam, heck, our whole team did much more than relish the Cup. We used it.
I think the cup held something like 6 beers, yet nobody ever let it get completely full because it was way too much fun to empty it, feel me?
I came home as the forgotten son of Cardiff, and I left as the greatest. Kam got him trophy, and big man from Utah got his fill of Rod Benson. Some might even say he got too much Rod Benson.
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Camp/Dive Bars (I've been told this needs a more grabby name, due to the fact that it is actually the craziest post ever).
July/25/2007 12:20 PM Filed in: Random
Finally, there was a break in the madness. A week at home in Cardiff by the Sea (North County San Diego) with no commitments, games, or pressure. I basically had just a few things on my agenda: I wanted to spend time with the fam, explore our local dive bar scene, and work my high school basketball camp for some extra cheese. Plus, I was driving a hearse all week as my transportation. Pretty much all the ingredients necessary for a crazy week.
Death Mobile
Camp:
Working bball camp is always cool for a couple reasons. For one, I get paid and it saves me from having to write the "Will work for fude. Anytheeng will help" sign I've come so close to writing before. That friday when the paychecks come is one of the most miraculous days of the year. James Rahon (found a way to get you in, buddy) and I got a little bonus money for running the "Team Offense" station. Half the time we just let the kids literally run around in circles and play tag, all James' fault, obviously. I figure coach Olive could pay me a little more, because the program funding appears to be just fine:
Best high school locker room ever
Another cool thing about camp is, of course, the kids. My kids won the championship this year, like they do every year. The youngest ones tried to tackle me again, like they do every year. The whole camp chanted "Dunk it! Dunk it! Dunk it!", they do every year. There was one difference this year, however. The kids really wanted to know who I played for. I wore a Grizzlies shirt the first day, so they all asked if I played for them. My team even voted to have our team name be "Memphis." The second day I wore a Bucks shirt and they called me traitors. One girl went home and googled me to find out everything she could about me. Kinda cool, except she stumbled upon toomuchrodbenson.com and did a lot of reading. Hopefully she got bored before she saw the good stuff.
The last cool thing about camp is the parents. They are usually awesome and love me. My favorite parent is Andy Ashby. He is a legendary pitcher in my mind and it's tight when he comes and watched me do anything. Andy Ashby could watch me clean toilets and I'd feel good about myself. This year there was another parent who I immediately moved to #2 on my parental depth chart. Basically, the only reason this parent is #2 is because she is an absolute MILF. Seriously, I don't think I've seen a better MILF ever in my life. I wanted to somehow take a picture so the world could see how hot this MILF was. She would come everyday to pick up her sons wearing these tank tops and wife beaters everyday -- teasing me on purpose, no doubt. Day two I got a pretty solid look from her. Day 3 I got a smile. Day 4 I got one of those "my head is facing left, but my eyes are staring right, right at Rod Benson" looks. I could not get a good look at her left hand to save my life. I couldn't tell if she was married or not. I got close one time, but she had her dog leash wrapped around her left hand -- teasing me on purpose, no doubt. One night while falling asleep, I had a bright Idea to ask one of her kids if his daddy ever picks him up, but when I woke up I thought that was ridiculous. I guess she will always be that mom. The mysterious mom just teasing away.
Dive Bar Circuit:
In Cardiff, there is a bar called Yogi's and in Del Mar there is one called Jimmy O's. Both owned by the same guys, they've always been the local spots where people go to enjoy themselves after a hard days work, or after surfing for hours, or when returning home from college. They also tend to have plenty of women in goofy, yet expensive, hats who are coming straight from the racetrack.
So anyways, tuesday is karaoke night at Jimmy O's, so we went there. It doesn't really feel like a karaoke atmosphere there though, because the place is packed, and nobody sings along with any of the amateur vocalists on the upper deck. It's basically like a one room dance hall with all the kids I went to high school with -- my 5 year reunion I guess. A lot of people don't know that I was one of 5 black students to spend all 4 years at Torrey Pines high school, and that is out of 3200...but I digress.
I had a serious problem with karaoke night. I had an epiphany of sorts. I decided that certain songs just should never be done at karaoke. I mean, obviously nobody should attempt Whitney Houston's Bodyguard song without expecting a Simon Cowell like reaction from me. Heck, I might walk right up and say "You are not going to Hollywood." That's a different story altogether. I decided that there are certain songs you cant sing at karaoke because it's cheating. These cheaty McCheaters out there are taking the easy way out when they do certain songs. Why is it cheating? Because everyone at the bar knows every word to the song. You don't need a coddamn mic to get 200 drunken people at a dive bar to sing these songs together in unison. I actually got kind of angry when these songs were selected. The guys on stage didn't even sing half the words, they just held the mic in the air like Brett Michaels might do if he was performing. I am calling for an outright elimination of these songs from karaoke. The worst that could happen is we get better competition and newer musical selection at these places. Maybe cheater songs are what make dive bar karaoke what it is, but I still must try. They are all great songs, but if you chose them during karaoke, you obviously have no self esteem. I composed a top 5 list of songs that should not ever be sung at a karaoke bar, in order:
5: Party Like It's 1999
It's 2007. The party is over, cheater.
4: Sweet Child 'O Mine
So the intro to this song is pretty sweet, but seriously, how many days a week can you hear this song? Where are you karaoke ethics.
3: Jack and Diane
Oh, she said karaoke goes onnn, even after the thrill of singin it's gone. Keep cheating with this one.
2: Pour Some Sugar on Me
This song might be #1 on a lot people's lists. If not for the easy-as-hell lyrics, then for the way women will yell them at the top of their lungs. This is a song that gets all the screams from the girls whenever it comes out and your cheating ass wants to karaoke it? Not cool in my book.
1: Journey - Dont Stop Believing
Clearly the #1 song on this list. People know every single word of this song. The bartenders stop serving drinks, the fights break themselves up, Osama and George Bush put their arms over each other and start belting the lyrics. I swear if you are in line outside waiting to get in, you have no choice but to start yelling out "Just a city boy, growin up in south Detrooooooiitt!" It's the only song people have free permission to sing louder than "Pour Some Sugar on Me." Using this song for karaoke is just unfair. I get that it takes balls to get up on stage in front of all of your drunken friends and sing like you're in the shower, but it takes no balls to sing this song. Everyone will help you sing it so it doesn't matter. In fact, I dare any of you who read this to try doing a karaoke night, anywhere in the U.S. Select this song. Then, right before you begin, tell everyone in the bar not to sing along. Tell them that you want to show your vocal range on this one and they can just listen to your beautiful voice make magic on the microphone. You might, nay, will get beat up, and a group of rugby players will tag team that bad boy with the help of the entire bar. Coddamn cheaters.
Back to the Dive Bars...
Yogi's was where we went the next night because it was opening day at the horse races. I was there with my boys Tommy, Kelly, some girl Kelly knew, and Matt (different that Vegas Matt). I decided to be the driver tonight so I didn't partake in the alcoholic festivities, but I still watched the action as my friends got into it. Tommy can drink ridiculous amounts, so I kept buying him triple and quadruple shots of tequila, because he kept saying that he wasnt feeling it. In the midst of all of this, I glance over, and Kareem Rush is over there just chillin. I wonder if he knows I'm the best player to ever come out of Cardiff? Anyways, this girl in that Kelly brought starts talking all crazy. "I can out drink all of you", she says. I let her know that there is no way she can keep up with any of us...it's impossible, Tommy and kelly booth outweigh me by at least 50lbs, and she weighed maybe 120.
Kelly and Tommy at Yogi's.
Anyways, she starts matching the drinks that I buy for Tommy. I mean she is seriously taking these big time shots and acting like it's nothing. Well, as I expected, she ends up just ridiculously drunk. Trouble is, SHE drove herself. Tommy and Kelly decide to taxi home early, so now it's just me and her. As the sober one, I offer to drive her home. We go outside and her car is in valet. Of course, she can't find her ticket. The guy says: "What kind of car is it?" She replies: "I have an Acura." He then asks her to describe the keychain. I can see the keychain he's holding behind his back. It has a teddy bear linked to it some how. She says back to him "I have an Acura, just give me my Acura." I stop her and say "Look, what is on your keychain that will identify your keys and help this man do his job?" She replies "Can I just have my Acura?"
She keeps up the whole Acura thing for like 3 minutes. It's incredibly annoying. The guy is frustrated and basically just goes through her glove compartment to find something her name on it so that we can get out of there. He tosses me the keys and I get to driving.
"Where do you live?" I ask her. I'm pretty sure her answer was "shednjdsst." I ask her again. "Where do you live?" She get's a little clearer, but it still sounds like "clegsisshme." I pull the car over and ask a third time. "Where do you live?" I swear this was her answer: "Craigslist."
I look over at her and say "Ok, seriously. Focus up here. Where do you live?" That's when she got angry with me. She starts cussing and yelling. "I told you muther@@@$er! I live at Craigslist!" "You clearly have a real address that is not use on internet explorer," I say back, "now where do you live?" She then calms down a bit. Finally I'm going to get a real answer. She says "L.A. Fitness. I live at L.A. Fitness." (L.A. Fitness is like 24 hour fitness) I am incredibly frustrated now. I say "One last time, where do you live?" Her calm goes away. "I told you. I keep telling you mutherf&%$er! F*^k! I live at Craigslist!"
I pick up my phone and call Kelly. "Kelly," I say into my phone, "this is over. This is your friend, I;m taking her to your house. You figure out what to do with her." After I get off the phone with Kelly, I notice that she is passed out. My focus turns from her and turns toward getting to Kelly's house. I was almost there when I saw a McDonalds. I was ridiculously hungry, so I got in the drive through. I ordered a 10 piece all-white-meat McNugget meal. The woman on the speaker says "Anything else?" I say "Nope" and pull ahead. I begin to think that maybe this girl wants some food. I turn and look over at her, and I realize that should have been paying attention. I hadn't even looked at her since she passed out because I was on the phone with other people telling them what was going on. I can't believe my eyes, but it's true, the girl has for some reason gotten out of her clothes and is now naked in the passenger seat of her car and is just playing there passed out.
Here I am, about to go pay for and get my food from the drive through window and there is a naked, passed out woman in the other seat. I've got to get my food from the drive through and somehow not look like the black guy to drugged a white girl and stole her car. I roll the window down a total of 6 inches to pay for my food. At the same time, I turn my back to the woman behind the McDonalds window, probably raising suspicion, but also covering up what was going on in the seat next to me. The woman takes the money and goes back to get my food ready. That is when I violently begin to try to wake this girl up and tell her to put her coddamn clothes back on. She is un-reponsive. The woman returns with my 42 ounce soda, of which 4 ounces spill on my lap as I work it through the 6 inches of open window space. I get my food, back to the lady, and drive to Kelly's house. When Kelly sees what has happened, he can't believe it. I say to him "Mann this girl is crazy, she kept talkin about craigslist and whatnot, then get takes her clothes off for no reason." He says "Yea, it aint the first time. Give me her keys." I toss him the keys and go to bed. I have told this story to all of my close friends and none of them can believe it. But you know what? I can believe it, because crazy things like this seem to always happen around me. Plus, Kelly says he has hooked up with this girl, so I know she's crazy. I should refrain from the driver role next time. I bet people who are designated drivers see alot of things they were never meant to see.
Death Mobile
Camp:
Working bball camp is always cool for a couple reasons. For one, I get paid and it saves me from having to write the "Will work for fude. Anytheeng will help" sign I've come so close to writing before. That friday when the paychecks come is one of the most miraculous days of the year. James Rahon (found a way to get you in, buddy) and I got a little bonus money for running the "Team Offense" station. Half the time we just let the kids literally run around in circles and play tag, all James' fault, obviously. I figure coach Olive could pay me a little more, because the program funding appears to be just fine:
Best high school locker room ever
Another cool thing about camp is, of course, the kids. My kids won the championship this year, like they do every year. The youngest ones tried to tackle me again, like they do every year. The whole camp chanted "Dunk it! Dunk it! Dunk it!", they do every year. There was one difference this year, however. The kids really wanted to know who I played for. I wore a Grizzlies shirt the first day, so they all asked if I played for them. My team even voted to have our team name be "Memphis." The second day I wore a Bucks shirt and they called me traitors. One girl went home and googled me to find out everything she could about me. Kinda cool, except she stumbled upon toomuchrodbenson.com and did a lot of reading. Hopefully she got bored before she saw the good stuff.
The last cool thing about camp is the parents. They are usually awesome and love me. My favorite parent is Andy Ashby. He is a legendary pitcher in my mind and it's tight when he comes and watched me do anything. Andy Ashby could watch me clean toilets and I'd feel good about myself. This year there was another parent who I immediately moved to #2 on my parental depth chart. Basically, the only reason this parent is #2 is because she is an absolute MILF. Seriously, I don't think I've seen a better MILF ever in my life. I wanted to somehow take a picture so the world could see how hot this MILF was. She would come everyday to pick up her sons wearing these tank tops and wife beaters everyday -- teasing me on purpose, no doubt. Day two I got a pretty solid look from her. Day 3 I got a smile. Day 4 I got one of those "my head is facing left, but my eyes are staring right, right at Rod Benson" looks. I could not get a good look at her left hand to save my life. I couldn't tell if she was married or not. I got close one time, but she had her dog leash wrapped around her left hand -- teasing me on purpose, no doubt. One night while falling asleep, I had a bright Idea to ask one of her kids if his daddy ever picks him up, but when I woke up I thought that was ridiculous. I guess she will always be that mom. The mysterious mom just teasing away.
Dive Bar Circuit:
In Cardiff, there is a bar called Yogi's and in Del Mar there is one called Jimmy O's. Both owned by the same guys, they've always been the local spots where people go to enjoy themselves after a hard days work, or after surfing for hours, or when returning home from college. They also tend to have plenty of women in goofy, yet expensive, hats who are coming straight from the racetrack.
So anyways, tuesday is karaoke night at Jimmy O's, so we went there. It doesn't really feel like a karaoke atmosphere there though, because the place is packed, and nobody sings along with any of the amateur vocalists on the upper deck. It's basically like a one room dance hall with all the kids I went to high school with -- my 5 year reunion I guess. A lot of people don't know that I was one of 5 black students to spend all 4 years at Torrey Pines high school, and that is out of 3200...but I digress.
I had a serious problem with karaoke night. I had an epiphany of sorts. I decided that certain songs just should never be done at karaoke. I mean, obviously nobody should attempt Whitney Houston's Bodyguard song without expecting a Simon Cowell like reaction from me. Heck, I might walk right up and say "You are not going to Hollywood." That's a different story altogether. I decided that there are certain songs you cant sing at karaoke because it's cheating. These cheaty McCheaters out there are taking the easy way out when they do certain songs. Why is it cheating? Because everyone at the bar knows every word to the song. You don't need a coddamn mic to get 200 drunken people at a dive bar to sing these songs together in unison. I actually got kind of angry when these songs were selected. The guys on stage didn't even sing half the words, they just held the mic in the air like Brett Michaels might do if he was performing. I am calling for an outright elimination of these songs from karaoke. The worst that could happen is we get better competition and newer musical selection at these places. Maybe cheater songs are what make dive bar karaoke what it is, but I still must try. They are all great songs, but if you chose them during karaoke, you obviously have no self esteem. I composed a top 5 list of songs that should not ever be sung at a karaoke bar, in order:
5: Party Like It's 1999
It's 2007. The party is over, cheater.
4: Sweet Child 'O Mine
So the intro to this song is pretty sweet, but seriously, how many days a week can you hear this song? Where are you karaoke ethics.
3: Jack and Diane
Oh, she said karaoke goes onnn, even after the thrill of singin it's gone. Keep cheating with this one.
2: Pour Some Sugar on Me
This song might be #1 on a lot people's lists. If not for the easy-as-hell lyrics, then for the way women will yell them at the top of their lungs. This is a song that gets all the screams from the girls whenever it comes out and your cheating ass wants to karaoke it? Not cool in my book.
1: Journey - Dont Stop Believing
Clearly the #1 song on this list. People know every single word of this song. The bartenders stop serving drinks, the fights break themselves up, Osama and George Bush put their arms over each other and start belting the lyrics. I swear if you are in line outside waiting to get in, you have no choice but to start yelling out "Just a city boy, growin up in south Detrooooooiitt!" It's the only song people have free permission to sing louder than "Pour Some Sugar on Me." Using this song for karaoke is just unfair. I get that it takes balls to get up on stage in front of all of your drunken friends and sing like you're in the shower, but it takes no balls to sing this song. Everyone will help you sing it so it doesn't matter. In fact, I dare any of you who read this to try doing a karaoke night, anywhere in the U.S. Select this song. Then, right before you begin, tell everyone in the bar not to sing along. Tell them that you want to show your vocal range on this one and they can just listen to your beautiful voice make magic on the microphone. You might, nay, will get beat up, and a group of rugby players will tag team that bad boy with the help of the entire bar. Coddamn cheaters.
Back to the Dive Bars...
Yogi's was where we went the next night because it was opening day at the horse races. I was there with my boys Tommy, Kelly, some girl Kelly knew, and Matt (different that Vegas Matt). I decided to be the driver tonight so I didn't partake in the alcoholic festivities, but I still watched the action as my friends got into it. Tommy can drink ridiculous amounts, so I kept buying him triple and quadruple shots of tequila, because he kept saying that he wasnt feeling it. In the midst of all of this, I glance over, and Kareem Rush is over there just chillin. I wonder if he knows I'm the best player to ever come out of Cardiff? Anyways, this girl in that Kelly brought starts talking all crazy. "I can out drink all of you", she says. I let her know that there is no way she can keep up with any of us...it's impossible, Tommy and kelly booth outweigh me by at least 50lbs, and she weighed maybe 120.
Kelly and Tommy at Yogi's.
Anyways, she starts matching the drinks that I buy for Tommy. I mean she is seriously taking these big time shots and acting like it's nothing. Well, as I expected, she ends up just ridiculously drunk. Trouble is, SHE drove herself. Tommy and Kelly decide to taxi home early, so now it's just me and her. As the sober one, I offer to drive her home. We go outside and her car is in valet. Of course, she can't find her ticket. The guy says: "What kind of car is it?" She replies: "I have an Acura." He then asks her to describe the keychain. I can see the keychain he's holding behind his back. It has a teddy bear linked to it some how. She says back to him "I have an Acura, just give me my Acura." I stop her and say "Look, what is on your keychain that will identify your keys and help this man do his job?" She replies "Can I just have my Acura?"
She keeps up the whole Acura thing for like 3 minutes. It's incredibly annoying. The guy is frustrated and basically just goes through her glove compartment to find something her name on it so that we can get out of there. He tosses me the keys and I get to driving.
"Where do you live?" I ask her. I'm pretty sure her answer was "shednjdsst." I ask her again. "Where do you live?" She get's a little clearer, but it still sounds like "clegsisshme." I pull the car over and ask a third time. "Where do you live?" I swear this was her answer: "Craigslist."
I look over at her and say "Ok, seriously. Focus up here. Where do you live?" That's when she got angry with me. She starts cussing and yelling. "I told you muther@@@$er! I live at Craigslist!" "You clearly have a real address that is not use on internet explorer," I say back, "now where do you live?" She then calms down a bit. Finally I'm going to get a real answer. She says "L.A. Fitness. I live at L.A. Fitness." (L.A. Fitness is like 24 hour fitness) I am incredibly frustrated now. I say "One last time, where do you live?" Her calm goes away. "I told you. I keep telling you mutherf&%$er! F*^k! I live at Craigslist!"
I pick up my phone and call Kelly. "Kelly," I say into my phone, "this is over. This is your friend, I;m taking her to your house. You figure out what to do with her." After I get off the phone with Kelly, I notice that she is passed out. My focus turns from her and turns toward getting to Kelly's house. I was almost there when I saw a McDonalds. I was ridiculously hungry, so I got in the drive through. I ordered a 10 piece all-white-meat McNugget meal. The woman on the speaker says "Anything else?" I say "Nope" and pull ahead. I begin to think that maybe this girl wants some food. I turn and look over at her, and I realize that should have been paying attention. I hadn't even looked at her since she passed out because I was on the phone with other people telling them what was going on. I can't believe my eyes, but it's true, the girl has for some reason gotten out of her clothes and is now naked in the passenger seat of her car and is just playing there passed out.
Here I am, about to go pay for and get my food from the drive through window and there is a naked, passed out woman in the other seat. I've got to get my food from the drive through and somehow not look like the black guy to drugged a white girl and stole her car. I roll the window down a total of 6 inches to pay for my food. At the same time, I turn my back to the woman behind the McDonalds window, probably raising suspicion, but also covering up what was going on in the seat next to me. The woman takes the money and goes back to get my food ready. That is when I violently begin to try to wake this girl up and tell her to put her coddamn clothes back on. She is un-reponsive. The woman returns with my 42 ounce soda, of which 4 ounces spill on my lap as I work it through the 6 inches of open window space. I get my food, back to the lady, and drive to Kelly's house. When Kelly sees what has happened, he can't believe it. I say to him "Mann this girl is crazy, she kept talkin about craigslist and whatnot, then get takes her clothes off for no reason." He says "Yea, it aint the first time. Give me her keys." I toss him the keys and go to bed. I have told this story to all of my close friends and none of them can believe it. But you know what? I can believe it, because crazy things like this seem to always happen around me. Plus, Kelly says he has hooked up with this girl, so I know she's crazy. I should refrain from the driver role next time. I bet people who are designated drivers see alot of things they were never meant to see.
Best Week Ever
July/24/2007 12:19 PM Filed in: Random
Basically, I have decided that I now love Las Vegas. The last time I was there, I had an O.K. time. In the "I'm Not Big TIme" and "You've Got to be Kidding Me" entries, I watched the beautiful celebrities splash champagne in the VIP while I was crowded on the dance floor. This last trip was very different my friends. Why was it so diffewrent this time? Hmm I dunno. Maybe it had a little something to do with the fact that I was there with the Memphis Grizzlies. Yea, that was it. I was in town with 20 NBA teams. It makes a little bit of a difference. Oh yea, I happened to be staying at The Venetian ... eeevvverrr heard of it?
You haven't heard of it? Well take a look at both of the plasma TVs that were in my room. There was also a 20 inch LCD in the bathroom which could easily be seen through the glass shower doors. The downstairs TV was actually an LCD too and was only 32 inches, whereas the upstairs one was a full 42 inch plasma. Sorry, I had correct myself on the awesomeness of my room. Once I saw the room, I knew this was going to be the best week ever. It only got better...
So, we played a game on the first Friday and had 2 days before our next game on Monday. Perfect. Nice. When we got out of our game, it was about 7. Got back to the Hotel at 8 after dinner. I call down to TAO Nightclub and tell them that I want to be added to the guestlist. They inform me that the list closes at 7pm. I say "Well that's a shame because my teammates and I thought we could get on a list." They ask me what team. I then say "Memphis Grizzles." I hear plenty of typing and then "O.K. my sincerest apologies Mr. Benson. I have Benson plus six on the list. Is there anything else I can do for you?" "Nope," I reply, "that will be all."
That was the first time I've ever gotten such treatment. The night would only get sweeter. When we got into TAO some other NBA guys (names much bigger than Rod Benson) already had a VIP booth reserved. Some of us knew some of them and all of a sudden, I find myself in VIP at TAO. The sweet thing about this was that our booth was next to the main walkway, so we all just stood out at the front of the booth. This is no joke, whatever girl I asked to come chill with me in the booth said yes. Every single one. I'm talkin striaght up ready like spaghetti. I've never had such a great success rate. It was like being the lone fisherman, in a clear pond, fishing for record sized, starving fish. My bait? Good looks and NBA promises.
After our game on monday, we had another two days off. It was that monday night that I had the best night ever. I had my 32 ounce steak at Outback -- delicious. Then I headed back to the hotel. As I was making my way towards the elevators to go to my room, I saw a kid who I hadn't seen since high school. He tells me about how successful he is nowadays and that he gambles so much that they comp his room at The Venetian. He then asks me if I want to go gamble with him. I let him know that I have no intention of gambling because my Per Diem has to last me for weeks after summer league. He says: "Hey, don't worry about it. I'll give you a couple hundred, lets just go." How could I turn that offer down?
We sat down at the blackjack tables and got to work. I got down to $50 very fast. I then won 5 straight hands to get up to $400. I then got up, gave my boy his $200 back, and went to my room -- $200 richer.
I wasn't sure if I was gonna go out that night or not, but my boy Matt wanted to check out some club at the Palms. We caught a cab over there and the place was dead. We then decided to check out Pure. I let it be known that the last time I was at Pure, I hated it. Somehow we still decided to go.
When we got to Pure, it was almost the same scene as I remembered from last time. I was standing at the end of a very long line that would take about an hour to get to the front of. It was right then that the similarities to my last trip ceased to exist.
"Rod Benson," I hear someone call from a short distance, "are you Rod Benson?" I tell him that I am indeed Rod Benson. He then says to me: "Your blog is awesome and I watched you play in the summer league man, good stuff. Anyways, we have a list in VIP. Just go up to the front and say the name Adrian Abello."
So I walk right up to the front and stand in the VIP line. The guys says: "Name?" I reply "Adrian Abello." He checks his list and lets us in. BOOM Tho. Well, actually, since Matt got in too, BOOM got them DOS!
I get in and make a couple laps. The pussycat doll burlesque is in full effect. Some people think that I'm in a strip club or something in "Boom got them DOS!", but it's actually inside of Pure during the pussycat doll show. Anyways, I keep moving and I notice a couple NBA vets have a VIP table. Turns out again that some of us knew some of them and now I'm in the VIP son. Im talkin about Grey Goose and Courvoisier son in the VIP like rockstars. It gets better.
The bouncer says to me that I can bring a girl in but she has to look good. I say to him that I don't see any immediately. He then invites me to take a walk with him. We walk to the elevator and go to the outside part of the club. He then says a pretty amazing statement to me. "Pick one." "What do you mean pick?", I say back to him. He then says "I mean tell me which girl you want to talk to and I'll get her over here."
I stood there and started thinking to myself. Could this be real? It didn't seem real at all. I guess I was daydreaming for longer than I thought because he came up to me and said "Do you see that girl over there? I told her you wanted her to come to VIP with you, but she thinks you're out of her league. Anyways, my job is done here. See you back downstairs."
So, now I'm downstairs, in VIP, with NBA stars, sipping courvoisier (actually, probably obnoxiously, repeating the phrase "pass the courvoisier"), with a girl who ROD BENSON is out of her league. There's pretty much nothing that can make this moment any sweeter.
And then I hear someone bark into a microphone. "Grrrrr. Arf, Arf!" No way is it DMX having a surprise performance up on the stage. I might have shed a single, joyous tear right at that moment. I couldn't have scripted the night any better than what really happened. DMX rocked the house. Mann he must have performed like 6 songs. I looked at him, then at her, then at the Courvoisier, and decided right then and there that these times must go on. I must make the NBA. I must.
See the joy and disbelief in my eyes? The VIP has that effect on a brotha!
GRRRRR ARF ARF! DMX up on the DJ Booth getting loose son!
I now have 2 very specific and related goals:
Goal 1: Make the NBA at all costs.
Goal 2: Use my NBA-ness to get into a party that Megan Fox is at (See Transformers) and hope that she finds me to be out of her league.
Everything else is just details.
You haven't heard of it? Well take a look at both of the plasma TVs that were in my room. There was also a 20 inch LCD in the bathroom which could easily be seen through the glass shower doors. The downstairs TV was actually an LCD too and was only 32 inches, whereas the upstairs one was a full 42 inch plasma. Sorry, I had correct myself on the awesomeness of my room. Once I saw the room, I knew this was going to be the best week ever. It only got better...
So, we played a game on the first Friday and had 2 days before our next game on Monday. Perfect. Nice. When we got out of our game, it was about 7. Got back to the Hotel at 8 after dinner. I call down to TAO Nightclub and tell them that I want to be added to the guestlist. They inform me that the list closes at 7pm. I say "Well that's a shame because my teammates and I thought we could get on a list." They ask me what team. I then say "Memphis Grizzles." I hear plenty of typing and then "O.K. my sincerest apologies Mr. Benson. I have Benson plus six on the list. Is there anything else I can do for you?" "Nope," I reply, "that will be all."
That was the first time I've ever gotten such treatment. The night would only get sweeter. When we got into TAO some other NBA guys (names much bigger than Rod Benson) already had a VIP booth reserved. Some of us knew some of them and all of a sudden, I find myself in VIP at TAO. The sweet thing about this was that our booth was next to the main walkway, so we all just stood out at the front of the booth. This is no joke, whatever girl I asked to come chill with me in the booth said yes. Every single one. I'm talkin striaght up ready like spaghetti. I've never had such a great success rate. It was like being the lone fisherman, in a clear pond, fishing for record sized, starving fish. My bait? Good looks and NBA promises.
After our game on monday, we had another two days off. It was that monday night that I had the best night ever. I had my 32 ounce steak at Outback -- delicious. Then I headed back to the hotel. As I was making my way towards the elevators to go to my room, I saw a kid who I hadn't seen since high school. He tells me about how successful he is nowadays and that he gambles so much that they comp his room at The Venetian. He then asks me if I want to go gamble with him. I let him know that I have no intention of gambling because my Per Diem has to last me for weeks after summer league. He says: "Hey, don't worry about it. I'll give you a couple hundred, lets just go." How could I turn that offer down?
We sat down at the blackjack tables and got to work. I got down to $50 very fast. I then won 5 straight hands to get up to $400. I then got up, gave my boy his $200 back, and went to my room -- $200 richer.
I wasn't sure if I was gonna go out that night or not, but my boy Matt wanted to check out some club at the Palms. We caught a cab over there and the place was dead. We then decided to check out Pure. I let it be known that the last time I was at Pure, I hated it. Somehow we still decided to go.
When we got to Pure, it was almost the same scene as I remembered from last time. I was standing at the end of a very long line that would take about an hour to get to the front of. It was right then that the similarities to my last trip ceased to exist.
"Rod Benson," I hear someone call from a short distance, "are you Rod Benson?" I tell him that I am indeed Rod Benson. He then says to me: "Your blog is awesome and I watched you play in the summer league man, good stuff. Anyways, we have a list in VIP. Just go up to the front and say the name Adrian Abello."
So I walk right up to the front and stand in the VIP line. The guys says: "Name?" I reply "Adrian Abello." He checks his list and lets us in. BOOM Tho. Well, actually, since Matt got in too, BOOM got them DOS!
I get in and make a couple laps. The pussycat doll burlesque is in full effect. Some people think that I'm in a strip club or something in "Boom got them DOS!", but it's actually inside of Pure during the pussycat doll show. Anyways, I keep moving and I notice a couple NBA vets have a VIP table. Turns out again that some of us knew some of them and now I'm in the VIP son. Im talkin about Grey Goose and Courvoisier son in the VIP like rockstars. It gets better.
The bouncer says to me that I can bring a girl in but she has to look good. I say to him that I don't see any immediately. He then invites me to take a walk with him. We walk to the elevator and go to the outside part of the club. He then says a pretty amazing statement to me. "Pick one." "What do you mean pick?", I say back to him. He then says "I mean tell me which girl you want to talk to and I'll get her over here."
I stood there and started thinking to myself. Could this be real? It didn't seem real at all. I guess I was daydreaming for longer than I thought because he came up to me and said "Do you see that girl over there? I told her you wanted her to come to VIP with you, but she thinks you're out of her league. Anyways, my job is done here. See you back downstairs."
So, now I'm downstairs, in VIP, with NBA stars, sipping courvoisier (actually, probably obnoxiously, repeating the phrase "pass the courvoisier"), with a girl who ROD BENSON is out of her league. There's pretty much nothing that can make this moment any sweeter.
And then I hear someone bark into a microphone. "Grrrrr. Arf, Arf!" No way is it DMX having a surprise performance up on the stage. I might have shed a single, joyous tear right at that moment. I couldn't have scripted the night any better than what really happened. DMX rocked the house. Mann he must have performed like 6 songs. I looked at him, then at her, then at the Courvoisier, and decided right then and there that these times must go on. I must make the NBA. I must.
See the joy and disbelief in my eyes? The VIP has that effect on a brotha!
GRRRRR ARF ARF! DMX up on the DJ Booth getting loose son!
I now have 2 very specific and related goals:
Goal 1: Make the NBA at all costs.
Goal 2: Use my NBA-ness to get into a party that Megan Fox is at (See Transformers) and hope that she finds me to be out of her league.
Everything else is just details.
The Offseason Part 2
July/23/2007 12:15 PM Filed in: Hoops
Wow, has it really been a month since I last posted something? I swear I've nearly had my life threatened by people waiting for me to post my new blog. Well, there have been a couple of reasons for my delay. For starters, my hard drive crashed on my macbook, putting me out of commission for a few weeks. Then there was this little matter of playing in the NBA Vegas Summer League. So, I guess I'll just pick up where I ended the last post...
After working out for Golden State, I had a couple days off before traveling out to Memphis for their mini-camp. This camp was unique from the others for two reasons: it was after the draft, and it was directly before summer league. This meant that first round pick Michael Conley Jr. was there as well as Rudy Gay, Kyle Lowry, Tarrence Kinsey, and Alexander Johnson -- guys who are actually getting paid.
I got in the day before the camp started and was the last person to fill out paper work and get a physical. As I have stated many times before, I hate doing the "grab my balls" test, so I was pretty happy to see that guys were getting their physicals done in the open area of the trainers room, eliminating the possibilty of such a check. As it turns out, those guys were returning players so they didn't need to get re-checked. I was promptly walked to the back room where the doctor, while doing the balls test, began to tell me why they do the test. He told me the story about how Lance Armstrong, while doing this very test, was found to have testicular cancer. He told that, because of that, it's becoming a much more widely used test, even on younger athletes like myself. He told me that I could even give myself the test. To quote him: "nobody knows your balls like you." It was then that I realized he had been talking for like a minute and a half telling me all these stories, and his fingers were still on my balls! We both must have lost track of time.
The next day I got to the locker room and saw that they had given me jersey number 4 -- Stromile Swift's number, not the Rod Benson 0. Not only that, but they put me in Stromile's locker as well:
I was obviously pretty hyped about the whole thing seeing that I took a photo of the locker.
We got to work on the court for the next two days. It was actually a lot of fun for me to go head to head with all these guys who had much bigger names than me, even though Rudy Gay dunked on me so viciously that I considered retirement. Still, I had my fair share of nice plays offensively and defensively. Like Golden State, after the first day, Tony Barone approached me and congratulated me on my performance on that day. It's small potatoes in the grand scheme of things, but guys like me never forget comments like those. I can pretty much remember every nice thing a coach I respected ever said to me. It dates back to the 5 and 6 year old division of the Boys and Girls club basketball league. "Rod, you're doing a great job of being tall," my coach said after my first couple of plays. Then 5 minutes later it was: "A basketball is not for kicking." I haven't kicked a ball since.
The second day of practice was considerably tougher mainly because it included our 4th practice in 2 days. Roger Powell, David Bluthenthal, and I won the shooting competition, earning "respect" as coach Iaveroni put it. I was also upgraded to the first team for the day which I took as a good sign.
After the second practice, I was so tired I could hardly walk, but I still took a little time to check out the surrounding area, which I concluded was pretty tight. I could definitely have a lot of fun in memphis. They say Austin is the live music capitol of the world, but Memphis has to be right at #2 if that's the case. Every single place has live music, and a couple places have dueling pianos inside -- I love dueling piano bars.
Now it was time to head to Vegas. We had practice the day we arrived, which sucked because my body was so tired. But since everyone was tired, it was just something I had to deal with.
We practiced in the same spot where the 2007 NBA Dunk contestants practiced (I think). I came to this conclusion because this was one of our baskets:
If you look closely, those are Dwight Howard's stickers up there around 12 feet. I can barely touch the bottom of the lower one, let alone slap it up there and catch an alley-oop. Props to Dwight Howard.
The first day of summer league was pretty much amazing. I got the starting job, which I didn't quite expect. I got to go up against 2 NBA post players in Zhi Zhi and Jianlian. I got to see Rudy Gay completely humiliate Yi in the open court (I felt better about Rudy dunking on me -- I guess he is Rudy Gay). I got to wear a jersey that had an NBA team name on the front and my name on the back. I know it's just summer league, but you cant beat that. I mean, I'm not that guy who is used to this kind of thing. I'm the guy who was pretty much starstruck by Tim Cowlishaw when he walked by me in Dallas a year ago, and mesmerized by David Aldridge who was watching a couple of our games. I got a fast break lay up and one of the first things I thought was "I wonder if David Aldridge saw that?"
We had a couple practices between game one and game two. The noteworthy thing from the two days didn't happen during the practice itself, but afterwards. See, we had this kid assisting us with water and towels and whatever else we needed. After the second practice, we were walking to the car. It was a record for the hottest day in Vegas that day. I think it was 120 degrees. It basically felt like it does when you put your face under water while in a Jacuzzi. Anyways, somebody decides to pay this kid $100 to sprint as fast as he can, in this heat, to the other side of the football field, touch the goal post, and back. It was probably 220 yards total, but the kid did it. I was pretty sure that he would die of heat exhaustion, but his will to live and spend that $100 must have kept him going.
The second game was against Detroit. The first thing to note about this game was that I had 12 points, not 10 like the stat sheet said. I don't know where my two points went, but I will be searching feverishly until I find out. Although we lost the game, I thought we played well, we just didnt shoot well as a team. It was on this day that my love affair with Mike Conley began. Running the pick and roll with this guy is like a dream. No matter where I was on the court, he could find me. I bet that Mike Conley could find Osama Bin Laden...if he was open.
The third game was special for a few reasons. For one, I got to go head to head with my former teammate Darius Rice. Last time I saw him was the night of his 52 point performance. The second reason was that Coach David Joeger ran the head coaching duties for the game. Lastly, because I played well and the team won big. Coach actually took me out early to preserve my legs for the next game, acknowledging the fact that we had the game in the bag and that he thought I played well.
Game 4 was offensively the opposite of game 3, for the team and myself both. There was still something cool about the game however. First of all, Chris Kaman was on the Clippers summer league roster. I thought it was pretty awesome that I got to go head to head with one of the best centers in the game today. It was even better when it turned out that he was one of those guys who runs his mouth. It really got me fired up to guard him. He only hit me for 2 points all game (yea, only 2) and I thought I did a good job of frustrating him. At the end of the day, we still lost the game though and he did still have 19 and 11. But I feel like as far as my post defense learning curve goes, that was a big boost.
Game 5 concluded 14 days straight of practice or games (we actually did have one day off in the middle) and the 3rd game in 3 days. I felt exhausted pretty much the whole game. I would call that game my worst all around because I did nothing well and I felt terrible the whole time.
After the game, all the fans wanted us to give them our gear. I threw one guy a shoe and the other shoe went to a kid. Then I gave my shooting shirt to the same kid who sprinted the football field. The people didnt stop asking me for gear though. I was shoeless and shirtless and they still wouldn't be satisfied until I was completely naked and they had my socks. I guess they assume that we are NBA guys so we can buy it all again. They don't know that I can't.
Well, my future is still up in the air for right now. Who knows where I'll be in the coming months? My boy Roger Powell just signed to go to Italy, a smart choice, the rational choice, but it is hard to be rational in a situation like mine. Chance it and stay here, knowing that getting cut is another D-League ticket? Go overseas and make money and never have $8 in my wallet again? I guess only time will tell, but I'll tell you this, if I have a legitimate shot, I'm goin for it, because I know what I can do.
After working out for Golden State, I had a couple days off before traveling out to Memphis for their mini-camp. This camp was unique from the others for two reasons: it was after the draft, and it was directly before summer league. This meant that first round pick Michael Conley Jr. was there as well as Rudy Gay, Kyle Lowry, Tarrence Kinsey, and Alexander Johnson -- guys who are actually getting paid.
I got in the day before the camp started and was the last person to fill out paper work and get a physical. As I have stated many times before, I hate doing the "grab my balls" test, so I was pretty happy to see that guys were getting their physicals done in the open area of the trainers room, eliminating the possibilty of such a check. As it turns out, those guys were returning players so they didn't need to get re-checked. I was promptly walked to the back room where the doctor, while doing the balls test, began to tell me why they do the test. He told me the story about how Lance Armstrong, while doing this very test, was found to have testicular cancer. He told that, because of that, it's becoming a much more widely used test, even on younger athletes like myself. He told me that I could even give myself the test. To quote him: "nobody knows your balls like you." It was then that I realized he had been talking for like a minute and a half telling me all these stories, and his fingers were still on my balls! We both must have lost track of time.
The next day I got to the locker room and saw that they had given me jersey number 4 -- Stromile Swift's number, not the Rod Benson 0. Not only that, but they put me in Stromile's locker as well:
I was obviously pretty hyped about the whole thing seeing that I took a photo of the locker.
We got to work on the court for the next two days. It was actually a lot of fun for me to go head to head with all these guys who had much bigger names than me, even though Rudy Gay dunked on me so viciously that I considered retirement. Still, I had my fair share of nice plays offensively and defensively. Like Golden State, after the first day, Tony Barone approached me and congratulated me on my performance on that day. It's small potatoes in the grand scheme of things, but guys like me never forget comments like those. I can pretty much remember every nice thing a coach I respected ever said to me. It dates back to the 5 and 6 year old division of the Boys and Girls club basketball league. "Rod, you're doing a great job of being tall," my coach said after my first couple of plays. Then 5 minutes later it was: "A basketball is not for kicking." I haven't kicked a ball since.
The second day of practice was considerably tougher mainly because it included our 4th practice in 2 days. Roger Powell, David Bluthenthal, and I won the shooting competition, earning "respect" as coach Iaveroni put it. I was also upgraded to the first team for the day which I took as a good sign.
After the second practice, I was so tired I could hardly walk, but I still took a little time to check out the surrounding area, which I concluded was pretty tight. I could definitely have a lot of fun in memphis. They say Austin is the live music capitol of the world, but Memphis has to be right at #2 if that's the case. Every single place has live music, and a couple places have dueling pianos inside -- I love dueling piano bars.
Now it was time to head to Vegas. We had practice the day we arrived, which sucked because my body was so tired. But since everyone was tired, it was just something I had to deal with.
We practiced in the same spot where the 2007 NBA Dunk contestants practiced (I think). I came to this conclusion because this was one of our baskets:
If you look closely, those are Dwight Howard's stickers up there around 12 feet. I can barely touch the bottom of the lower one, let alone slap it up there and catch an alley-oop. Props to Dwight Howard.
The first day of summer league was pretty much amazing. I got the starting job, which I didn't quite expect. I got to go up against 2 NBA post players in Zhi Zhi and Jianlian. I got to see Rudy Gay completely humiliate Yi in the open court (I felt better about Rudy dunking on me -- I guess he is Rudy Gay). I got to wear a jersey that had an NBA team name on the front and my name on the back. I know it's just summer league, but you cant beat that. I mean, I'm not that guy who is used to this kind of thing. I'm the guy who was pretty much starstruck by Tim Cowlishaw when he walked by me in Dallas a year ago, and mesmerized by David Aldridge who was watching a couple of our games. I got a fast break lay up and one of the first things I thought was "I wonder if David Aldridge saw that?"
We had a couple practices between game one and game two. The noteworthy thing from the two days didn't happen during the practice itself, but afterwards. See, we had this kid assisting us with water and towels and whatever else we needed. After the second practice, we were walking to the car. It was a record for the hottest day in Vegas that day. I think it was 120 degrees. It basically felt like it does when you put your face under water while in a Jacuzzi. Anyways, somebody decides to pay this kid $100 to sprint as fast as he can, in this heat, to the other side of the football field, touch the goal post, and back. It was probably 220 yards total, but the kid did it. I was pretty sure that he would die of heat exhaustion, but his will to live and spend that $100 must have kept him going.
The second game was against Detroit. The first thing to note about this game was that I had 12 points, not 10 like the stat sheet said. I don't know where my two points went, but I will be searching feverishly until I find out. Although we lost the game, I thought we played well, we just didnt shoot well as a team. It was on this day that my love affair with Mike Conley began. Running the pick and roll with this guy is like a dream. No matter where I was on the court, he could find me. I bet that Mike Conley could find Osama Bin Laden...if he was open.
The third game was special for a few reasons. For one, I got to go head to head with my former teammate Darius Rice. Last time I saw him was the night of his 52 point performance. The second reason was that Coach David Joeger ran the head coaching duties for the game. Lastly, because I played well and the team won big. Coach actually took me out early to preserve my legs for the next game, acknowledging the fact that we had the game in the bag and that he thought I played well.
Game 4 was offensively the opposite of game 3, for the team and myself both. There was still something cool about the game however. First of all, Chris Kaman was on the Clippers summer league roster. I thought it was pretty awesome that I got to go head to head with one of the best centers in the game today. It was even better when it turned out that he was one of those guys who runs his mouth. It really got me fired up to guard him. He only hit me for 2 points all game (yea, only 2) and I thought I did a good job of frustrating him. At the end of the day, we still lost the game though and he did still have 19 and 11. But I feel like as far as my post defense learning curve goes, that was a big boost.
Game 5 concluded 14 days straight of practice or games (we actually did have one day off in the middle) and the 3rd game in 3 days. I felt exhausted pretty much the whole game. I would call that game my worst all around because I did nothing well and I felt terrible the whole time.
After the game, all the fans wanted us to give them our gear. I threw one guy a shoe and the other shoe went to a kid. Then I gave my shooting shirt to the same kid who sprinted the football field. The people didnt stop asking me for gear though. I was shoeless and shirtless and they still wouldn't be satisfied until I was completely naked and they had my socks. I guess they assume that we are NBA guys so we can buy it all again. They don't know that I can't.
Well, my future is still up in the air for right now. Who knows where I'll be in the coming months? My boy Roger Powell just signed to go to Italy, a smart choice, the rational choice, but it is hard to be rational in a situation like mine. Chance it and stay here, knowing that getting cut is another D-League ticket? Go overseas and make money and never have $8 in my wallet again? I guess only time will tell, but I'll tell you this, if I have a legitimate shot, I'm goin for it, because I know what I can do.