It's his journey that makes his buzzer beater last night, winning the 6th game for the Celts, that should be memorialized as much as Shot #2, (Shot #1 belonging to MJ.) A skinny 6 footer out of high school with no Division One offers, goes to Division Two UCCS has a growth spurt, pumps up his weight, works tirelessly on his game, transfers to U of Colorado, and is drafted by the Spurs as low round one pick, continued to work and hustle, traded to the Celtics and Voila - a place in Boston Celtics History. For me, it is always these circuitous routes to fame that interest me.
I am tempted to cut Harold Varnor III some slake for joining the LIV golf tour because he is African American. One might argue Varnor has some rights to pocketing as much money as he can, the doors to wealth being so often closed to people of color. Tempted, yes. But finally NO. The LIV is sponsored by the Saudi government whose hands are covered with the blood of their people. It would be condescending of me to do let Varnor off the hook. Let me reiterate, I have no problem with competitive pro leagues, but I do if that league sponsor is responsible for murdering their citizens. Not to mention that this tourny that Varnor lll now leads is being played in Donald Trumps failing golf course in Scotland.
It looks like the LPGA is getting a super star in Rose Jhang. Our sport page calls her the Mozart of golf. I wonder who the Beethoven of Golf is? As for Rose's ascendancy, it might be a good idea to look back at the history of Michelle Wie.
I was thrilled to wtach on TV both NCAA basketball championship teams at the White House, enjoying themselves with President Biden and his wife and other dignataries, remembering how proud of those teams that won their Championships during the Trump years for refusing to go to the White House and The Donald's pathetic responses that they were "uninvited."
METAPHOR by Tom Meschery
and later read an essay by Leonard Pttts Jr and marveled
at his composition and later on read that Louise Gluck
won the Nobel Prize for Literature and as the morning
wore on, the air fragrant for the first time in months of fires,
perfect jump-shots, and later still in the still afternoon,
drowsy in an old man’s need for a nap, reread the part
in Hass’ poem about the whiteness of a softball
that can and would become a world in which all people
shall have almost perfectly white teeth, which implies
a completely different distribution of wealth. My God,
athleticism of imagery. Which put me in mind
of my teammate, Lenny Wilkens’ moves, in the seconds
before the lazy afternoon closed my eyes, that one
move I witnessed in a game they won, so quick
and subtle that had he not been a point guard,
in the NBA, he could have been a poet, and the ball
orbiting and dropping, softly, into the net
in a game I loved and played but without finesse.
