I wasn't gonna watch game one of the Bulls-Celtics playoff series. After the Bulls looked awful losing the last game of the regular season to the dreadful Toronto Raptors, I sent Milo an e-mail announcing that I was officially through with these worthless bums -- forever!
Plus, I had a track meet to attend. So I'm sitting on the aluminum bleachers of Hanson Stadium watching the 4/200 meter relay when Norm calls.
"You watching this?" he asks.
"No, I'm at a track meet," I say. "How bad are we losing?"
"We're not losing -- we're winning. In Boston -- we're beating them in Boston, Benny...."
"No...."
"Yes...."
"How much?"
"Up three...."
"Oh, my God -- call me back. Keep me posted!"
A few minutes later, he calls back: "We're down one. Nine seconds left. Derrick at the line...."
"Oh, my God!"
"What?" says Daddy Dee, who's sitting next to me.
"Rose on the line," I tell him.
"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" says Norm.
I interpret this as a made free throw. "Bulls tied it," I tell Daddy Dee.
"Whee! Yeah!" says Norm. "Derrick Rose...."
I interpret this as another made free throw. "Bulls up one," I tell Daddy Dee.
"Celtics call time out," says Norm. "I'll call you back...."
A few minutes later, my cell phone vibrates. "Yeah?" I say.
"Damn," says Norm.
"No," I say.
"What happened?" asks Daddy Dee.
"Noah fouled Pierce with two seconds left," says Norm.
"No!" I say.
"Yes!" says Norm.
"Damn!" I say.
"What?" asks Daddy Dee.
I fill him in: "Noah fouled Pierce. Two seconds left. Pierce on the line. If he makes `em both, the Bulls lose...."
"Tied," says Norm.
"He made the first," I tell Daddy Dee.
"He missed," screams Norm. "He missed! The Truth missed, Benny!"
"Overtime," I tell Daddy Dee.
"Keep me posted," I tell Norm.
My phone vibrates -- Norm again: "We're up two in the OT...."
"Just stay on the line," I say. "I can't take this anymore. I need the play by play...."
"Okay, Rose has the ball," says Norm. "No. Agh! Ugh! Man...."
"What? What? What?"
"Agh!"
From the anguished tone of his wail, I gather something bad has occurred.
My phone vibrates. It's my sister. "Hold on, Norm -- I got another call. I'll put you on hold." I switch to my sister. "Are you watching this?" she asks.
"No, I'm at a track meet," I say. "But I got my friend on the other line giving me the play by play. What's going on?"
"Well, there's three minutes and four seconds left and the Bulls have the ball. Now it's three minutes and three seconds, three minutes and two seconds, three minutes and one second...."
"Stop counting down the time -- tell me what's going on!"
"Three minutes left...."
Oh, brother. I love her dearly, but she's the absolute worst at play by play. I switch back to Norm. Apparently, he never knew I had him on hold cause he's in the middle of yelling: "Damn, Benny...."
I'm just about bellowing: "What? Is it good? Is it bad? What? What?"
"You got to calm down," Daddy Dee tells me.
"Tyrus hit a jumper -- Bulls up one," says Norm. "Celtics call time out. They got a last chance!"
"Call me back," I say.
I watch the runners. I hunch over and remind myself to stay calm. I'm surrounded by people and I don't want them to think that I'm any weirder than they probably already think I am. I cross my fingers. I actually cross my fingers. I have officially lost my freaking mind.
The phone vibrates. It's Norm. He has this tone of wondrous satisfaction: "We won, Benny...."
"Yeah?"
"Thirty-six points and eleven assists for Derrick Rose, Benny. I told you, dawg -- Dee Rose is the real deal...."
The phone vibrates. It's my sister. "They did it; they did it," she says.
"I know, I know...."
The phone vibrates. It's Young Ralph: "Did you see this?"
"No, I was at a track meet...."
"Tyrus Thomas won it with a jumper -- Tyrus Thomas!"
Daddy Dee's phone rings. It's his son, Jordan. "Yeah, I know," I hear Daddy Dee saying. "Hold it." He tells me: "Jordan says the Bulls are gonna sweep `em!"
All around me I heard the sounds of people officially jumping on the Bulls bandwagon, as calls come in telling people the unbelievable news: Bulls win! Bulls win!
My phone vibrates. It's Milo: "Did you see this?"
"No, I'm at a track meet. But I heard."
He can't resist. He says: "Why would you care, Benny? I thought you were through with the Bulls -- remember?"
Ha, ha, ha. Funny man -- a regular George Carlin. As the gun goes off for the start of another race, I tell him: "Well, Milo, I guess I changed my mind."
Showing posts with label Tyrus Thomas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tyrus Thomas. Show all posts
Monday, April 20, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Benny Jay: Can't Sleep
I wake at 2:45 in the morning. Can't sleep. Go to the bathroom. Come back to bed. Still can't sleep. Think about a conversation I had seven hours ago with a 61-year-old man whose father used to be a Congressman. He's going through his dead father's papers, thousands and thousands of papers. He's got them in a storage facility on the south side of Chicago.
I think about -- what else? -- the Bulls. They won tonight -- or last night. Beat Denver. 117-99. Or was it 116-99? I think about who scored what: Gordon 37, Thomas: 22. Or was it 21?
I look at the clock. It's three. Seems like an hour's passed, but it's only ten minutes.
There's two kinds of sleeplessness. The kind where you can't fall asleep. And this....
The dog's restless. Her tags rattle as she licks her paws. Sounds as loud as a snow plow in the dead of night. I hear my Wife gently breathing. Who can sleep with this racket?
I get out of bed, find my slippers and head downstairs. My throat's parched. I need some water. Must have been that barbecue sauce we had at the Korean restaurant. Too salty. Gotta cut back on the salt.
There's a stack of newspapers on the kitchen table. I read about the acquittal of three men in Moscow for killing a journalist. I read about Obama's housing bailout. I read about the budget crisis in the state of California.
I look out the window. It's starting to snow. My Mother told me we were gonna get snow. Said we'd get 12 inches. She knows all about the weather cause she watches cable TV. Everything I know about the weather I learn from conversations with my mom.
I read a book about Reconstruction called Capitol Men. I think about that journalist in Russia. Can't get her out of my mind. I look her up on the Internet. Her name is Anna Politkovskaya. She covered war, crime, and corruption. Someone shot her in the head as she was leaving her apartment building. It might have been a hit ordered by the Russian mob or maybe the government.
I look out the window. Snow's falling faster. It's 4:45. My day officially starts in less than two hours. Got to drive my Younger Daughter to a track meet.
That's the worst part about sleeplessness. It haunts you all day....
To be continued....
I think about -- what else? -- the Bulls. They won tonight -- or last night. Beat Denver. 117-99. Or was it 116-99? I think about who scored what: Gordon 37, Thomas: 22. Or was it 21?
I look at the clock. It's three. Seems like an hour's passed, but it's only ten minutes.
There's two kinds of sleeplessness. The kind where you can't fall asleep. And this....
The dog's restless. Her tags rattle as she licks her paws. Sounds as loud as a snow plow in the dead of night. I hear my Wife gently breathing. Who can sleep with this racket?
I get out of bed, find my slippers and head downstairs. My throat's parched. I need some water. Must have been that barbecue sauce we had at the Korean restaurant. Too salty. Gotta cut back on the salt.
There's a stack of newspapers on the kitchen table. I read about the acquittal of three men in Moscow for killing a journalist. I read about Obama's housing bailout. I read about the budget crisis in the state of California.
I look out the window. It's starting to snow. My Mother told me we were gonna get snow. Said we'd get 12 inches. She knows all about the weather cause she watches cable TV. Everything I know about the weather I learn from conversations with my mom.
I read a book about Reconstruction called Capitol Men. I think about that journalist in Russia. Can't get her out of my mind. I look her up on the Internet. Her name is Anna Politkovskaya. She covered war, crime, and corruption. Someone shot her in the head as she was leaving her apartment building. It might have been a hit ordered by the Russian mob or maybe the government.
I look out the window. Snow's falling faster. It's 4:45. My day officially starts in less than two hours. Got to drive my Younger Daughter to a track meet.
That's the worst part about sleeplessness. It haunts you all day....
To be continued....
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Benny Jay: Mom Breaks The News
I'm on the phone with Milo, the world's smartest man, and we're doing what we've been doing too much of lately. We're going down the list of reasons for the long, sad slide of our beloved Bulls: Larry Hughes is selfish, Ben Gordon's short, Joakim Noah's flaky, Tyrus Thomas is inconsistent, Vinny Del Negro can't control the team.
We switch subjects to Barack Obama.
"Do you think he's really a good basketball player or is everyone who plays against him just afraid to guard him tight?" I ask.
"Well, Benny, think about it," says Milo. "How good can he be? He couldn't start for his high school basketball team in Hawaii. Hawaii, Benny -- it's not known as the bastion of good basketball. That's like a black kid from Detroit moving to Tokyo and not being able to start on his Japanese basketball team. That would be an embarrassment."
The other line beeps. It's my mother. She's enraged.
"Who is this witch?"
"What witch?"
"That lady...."
"What lady? I need more information...."
"Don't be fresh...."
"You mean, the new senator from New York?"
"Yes...."
How did I possibly know what she was talking about?
"She's a Blue Dog Democrat," says my mom.
"What's that?"
"That's a Democrat who's always a Democrat no matter what...."
"I thought that was a Yellow Dog Democrat....."
"That's what your father said...."
I go online and read the news story on the New York Times web page. "Her name is Kirsten Gillibrand, she's from outside of Albany and she's a moderate Democrat...."
"That's ridiculous. We don't need anymore moderate Democrats -- we need liberals. What'sa matter with liberals?"
"They're trying to reach out...."
"To who?"
"Republicans and....."
"Bullshit, we don't need Republicans. Let the Republicans pick Republicans. When do the Republicans reach out to us. These Democrats are such wimps. What's the matter with that governor in New York?"
"He's just trying to be like Obama, ma. You know, Obama says: `There are no red states and no blue states -- just the United States."
She ignores me: "Look on that thing and tell me if she's pro-choice...."
"What thing?"
"You know -- that thing where you look things up...."
"You mean the Internet?"
"Yes, that thing...."
"Okay, mom...."
We switch subjects to Barack Obama.
"Do you think he's really a good basketball player or is everyone who plays against him just afraid to guard him tight?" I ask.
"Well, Benny, think about it," says Milo. "How good can he be? He couldn't start for his high school basketball team in Hawaii. Hawaii, Benny -- it's not known as the bastion of good basketball. That's like a black kid from Detroit moving to Tokyo and not being able to start on his Japanese basketball team. That would be an embarrassment."
The other line beeps. It's my mother. She's enraged.
"Who is this witch?"
"What witch?"
"That lady...."
"What lady? I need more information...."
"Don't be fresh...."
"You mean, the new senator from New York?"
"Yes...."
How did I possibly know what she was talking about?
"She's a Blue Dog Democrat," says my mom.
"What's that?"
"That's a Democrat who's always a Democrat no matter what...."
"I thought that was a Yellow Dog Democrat....."
"That's what your father said...."
I go online and read the news story on the New York Times web page. "Her name is Kirsten Gillibrand, she's from outside of Albany and she's a moderate Democrat...."
"That's ridiculous. We don't need anymore moderate Democrats -- we need liberals. What'sa matter with liberals?"
"They're trying to reach out...."
"To who?"
"Republicans and....."
"Bullshit, we don't need Republicans. Let the Republicans pick Republicans. When do the Republicans reach out to us. These Democrats are such wimps. What's the matter with that governor in New York?"
"He's just trying to be like Obama, ma. You know, Obama says: `There are no red states and no blue states -- just the United States."
She ignores me: "Look on that thing and tell me if she's pro-choice...."
"What thing?"
"You know -- that thing where you look things up...."
"You mean the Internet?"
"Yes, that thing...."
"Okay, mom...."
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Benny Jay: Beating The Cold
(authored Thursday, January 16, 2008)
I get a call from Big Jeff, an old friend, who says he's got a ticket for me and my younger daughter for tonight's Bulls-Cavs game
So we drive south on Ashland, and hook up with Jeff and his son, Sammy, who's even bigger than Jeff, at the Billy Goat's on Madison Street. And we march through the Siberian freeze to the United Center. Only, like a dummy, I don't fully button my jacket. So there's this tiny piece of my ear exposed to the cold. And it stings like it's on fire. And I'm wondering how long can three blocks really be?
As we climb to the nose-bleed seats in the upper balcony, Jeff and I agree it will only be a quarter - maybe two - before the Cavs, who have the best record in the NBA, put the Bulls away. We predict LeBron James will score forty - at least - and the only Bull worth watching will be Derrick Rose....
But to our surprise, the Bulls come back after the Cavs break out strong, and it's with Kirk Hinrich -- just back from injury -- leading the charge. Not Rose -- he's on the bench. They're down two at half and tied after three, and it's back and forth in the fourth. And Tyrus Thomas -- that's right, Tyrus Freaking Thomas -- blocks LeBron's shot. Then he blocks another. The Bulls fall behind, but Rose hits two free throws to bring them back. And LeBron, covered tightly by Luol Deng, settles for a long jumper at the buzzer -- he should drive, but I think he doesn't want to go anywhere near Tyrus -- and the shot rims out.
In the overtime, Rose takes over. He races by Cavalier guards, drives the lane, draws the interior defenders and kicks a bullet pass to Deng, wide open in the corner. Bang -- Deng buries the three. And then they do the same play again a few moments later. Only this time Deng's shot bounces off the rim, flies in the air, and falls through the net. Hey, sometimes even the Bulls get lucky.
The walk back to Billy Goat's doesn't seem like a hike through the Arctic. The wind's not so strong. Sammy says he thinks it actually got a little warmer. I say it just feels that way 'cause my boys beat the best team in the NBA....
I get a call from Big Jeff, an old friend, who says he's got a ticket for me and my younger daughter for tonight's Bulls-Cavs game
So we drive south on Ashland, and hook up with Jeff and his son, Sammy, who's even bigger than Jeff, at the Billy Goat's on Madison Street. And we march through the Siberian freeze to the United Center. Only, like a dummy, I don't fully button my jacket. So there's this tiny piece of my ear exposed to the cold. And it stings like it's on fire. And I'm wondering how long can three blocks really be?
As we climb to the nose-bleed seats in the upper balcony, Jeff and I agree it will only be a quarter - maybe two - before the Cavs, who have the best record in the NBA, put the Bulls away. We predict LeBron James will score forty - at least - and the only Bull worth watching will be Derrick Rose....
But to our surprise, the Bulls come back after the Cavs break out strong, and it's with Kirk Hinrich -- just back from injury -- leading the charge. Not Rose -- he's on the bench. They're down two at half and tied after three, and it's back and forth in the fourth. And Tyrus Thomas -- that's right, Tyrus Freaking Thomas -- blocks LeBron's shot. Then he blocks another. The Bulls fall behind, but Rose hits two free throws to bring them back. And LeBron, covered tightly by Luol Deng, settles for a long jumper at the buzzer -- he should drive, but I think he doesn't want to go anywhere near Tyrus -- and the shot rims out.
In the overtime, Rose takes over. He races by Cavalier guards, drives the lane, draws the interior defenders and kicks a bullet pass to Deng, wide open in the corner. Bang -- Deng buries the three. And then they do the same play again a few moments later. Only this time Deng's shot bounces off the rim, flies in the air, and falls through the net. Hey, sometimes even the Bulls get lucky.
The walk back to Billy Goat's doesn't seem like a hike through the Arctic. The wind's not so strong. Sammy says he thinks it actually got a little warmer. I say it just feels that way 'cause my boys beat the best team in the NBA....
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