This blog can be accessed off of the Cleveland Cavaliers official website. Daniel Gibson, who was a second round pick by the Cavaliers in 06', wrote this post after a huge playoff win on Sunday. Gibson talks about being out on the floor and playing against one of his biggest idols growing up, Chauncey Billups. He thanks his team for all the support they have given him throughout the season.
This is a very brief blog. Gibson talks about his feelings on the game and how he think he did. I am sure this is a genuine entry, but for some reason I always feel skeptical when reading professional athlete's blogs. I am not sure why, but I do. He gets his point across in a good manner and produces a somewhat interesting post.
http://www.nba.com/cavaliers/news/gibson_blog_070527.html
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Pick Up Game #2
The sun is high in the sky. It is a little after 1:00 PM. The sweet aroma of grilled hamburgers and brats is pouring out of fenced in yards into the air. Two dogs are exchanging barks from a distance. The only people at the playground today are four kids who are swinging on the monkey bars and chasing each other around. The soccer fields are bare except for some old juice boxes and firecracker shrapnel. This morning fresh tar was spread over the blacktop to patch up the cracks. The courts are unoccupied and all is quiet until two men approach the schoolyard from the back path. They are carrying a basketball...
The pair walk casually, switching off who bounces the ball. They are young adults in their mid-20's and each about six feet tall. One of the men is a little portly, with long blond hair pulled back into a half ponytail. He is wearing royal blue mesh shorts and a plain green t-shirt. His shoes are dirty looking with a few holes here and there. His socks are white and scrunched down revealing tan lines around his ankles. His friend/opponent is a few inches taller and a little bit slimmer. He has on dark black shorts that come down past his knees. He is wearing shiny-black basketball shoes with high black socks. He has on a red t-shirt and a gray headband. His hair is brown and short.
The basketball has lost its vibrant orange hue from being played with outside. Black contoured lines run all around the ball, accentuating its features. On one side of the ball is the NBA logo. Right by this logo something is written in black permanent marker. It is very small and hard to make out. The blond haired man uses his finger nail to unscrew the air valve and pull up a thin plastic tube. By pushing tube in and out, he fills the ball with more air. Blondie screws the air valve back in and gives the ball a few quick bounces. The ball returns much better now. The sound of the bouncing basketball echoes throughout the playground.
The two men work their way around the court shooting from various locations. They each miss their fair share of shots but continue warming up for about twenty minutes. The man in black keeps traveling back and forth across the courts to a hoop, which he notices has been lowered a few inches. He tries dunking the ball three separate times but to no prevail. The man in black exclaims in a deep tone, "Let's play!"
His friend says nothing and walks to the free throw line. The two switch off shooting free throws to see who gets possession first. Whoever makes a shot when the other misses gets the ball first. For about fifteen minutes this goes on. Miss after miss after miss. Once, they both hit free throws back to back so the possesion game had to continue. They exchange hardly any words during this process. They take their time and try to focus on each shot. The thud of the ball off the rim echoes throughout the school yard. Suddenly an overcast fills the sky and tiny rain droplets start falling to the ground. The men suspend their game for the time being to try and dunk on the low hoop again.
The pair walk casually, switching off who bounces the ball. They are young adults in their mid-20's and each about six feet tall. One of the men is a little portly, with long blond hair pulled back into a half ponytail. He is wearing royal blue mesh shorts and a plain green t-shirt. His shoes are dirty looking with a few holes here and there. His socks are white and scrunched down revealing tan lines around his ankles. His friend/opponent is a few inches taller and a little bit slimmer. He has on dark black shorts that come down past his knees. He is wearing shiny-black basketball shoes with high black socks. He has on a red t-shirt and a gray headband. His hair is brown and short.
The basketball has lost its vibrant orange hue from being played with outside. Black contoured lines run all around the ball, accentuating its features. On one side of the ball is the NBA logo. Right by this logo something is written in black permanent marker. It is very small and hard to make out. The blond haired man uses his finger nail to unscrew the air valve and pull up a thin plastic tube. By pushing tube in and out, he fills the ball with more air. Blondie screws the air valve back in and gives the ball a few quick bounces. The ball returns much better now. The sound of the bouncing basketball echoes throughout the playground.
The two men work their way around the court shooting from various locations. They each miss their fair share of shots but continue warming up for about twenty minutes. The man in black keeps traveling back and forth across the courts to a hoop, which he notices has been lowered a few inches. He tries dunking the ball three separate times but to no prevail. The man in black exclaims in a deep tone, "Let's play!"
His friend says nothing and walks to the free throw line. The two switch off shooting free throws to see who gets possession first. Whoever makes a shot when the other misses gets the ball first. For about fifteen minutes this goes on. Miss after miss after miss. Once, they both hit free throws back to back so the possesion game had to continue. They exchange hardly any words during this process. They take their time and try to focus on each shot. The thud of the ball off the rim echoes throughout the school yard. Suddenly an overcast fills the sky and tiny rain droplets start falling to the ground. The men suspend their game for the time being to try and dunk on the low hoop again.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Pick Up Game
The sun is high in the sky. It is a little after 1:00 PM. The aroma of hamburgers being grilled fills the air. Two dogs exchange barks from their respective yards. The playground isn't as packed as you would think on a Memorial Day. The only people around is a group of four kids swinging on the monkey bars and chasing one another around. The soccer fields are bare except for some old juice boxes and firecracker shrapnel. The basketball courts are unoccupied. Then two men approach the school from the back path carrying a basketball...
They walk casually while switching off who bounces the ball. They are young adults in their mid-20's and each about six feet tall. One of the men is a little portly, with long blond hair pulled back into a bun. He is wearing royal blue mesh shorts and a plain green t-shirt. His shoes are dirty looking with a few holes here and there. His socks are white and scrunched down revealing some nice tan lines around the ankles. His opponent is an inch or so taller and a little bit slimmer. He has on dark black shorts that come down past his knees. He is wearing shiny-black basketball shoes with high black socks. He has a red t-shirt and a gray head band on. His hair is short but not quite "buzzed".
The two men work their way around the court shooting from various locations. They each miss their fair share of shots but continue warming up for about twenty minutes. The man in black keeps traveling across the courts to a hoop that has been lowered two or three inches. He tries dunking the ball four or five time but to no prevail.
"Let's play" the man in black exclaims in a booming voice. His friend offers no reply but immediately goes to the free throw line. The two switch off shooting free throws to see who gets possession first. First person to make a free throw when the other misses gets the ball. For about fifteen minutes this goes on. Miss after miss after miss. Only once did they both hit free throws back to back. They exchange hardly any words during this diligent process. They take their time at the line and try to focus on the shot. The thud of the ball off the rim echoes throughout the school yard. Then suddenly an overcast fills the sky and tiny rain droplets start falling to the ground. The men suspend their game for the time being to try and dunk on the low hoop again.
They walk casually while switching off who bounces the ball. They are young adults in their mid-20's and each about six feet tall. One of the men is a little portly, with long blond hair pulled back into a bun. He is wearing royal blue mesh shorts and a plain green t-shirt. His shoes are dirty looking with a few holes here and there. His socks are white and scrunched down revealing some nice tan lines around the ankles. His opponent is an inch or so taller and a little bit slimmer. He has on dark black shorts that come down past his knees. He is wearing shiny-black basketball shoes with high black socks. He has a red t-shirt and a gray head band on. His hair is short but not quite "buzzed".
The two men work their way around the court shooting from various locations. They each miss their fair share of shots but continue warming up for about twenty minutes. The man in black keeps traveling across the courts to a hoop that has been lowered two or three inches. He tries dunking the ball four or five time but to no prevail.
"Let's play" the man in black exclaims in a booming voice. His friend offers no reply but immediately goes to the free throw line. The two switch off shooting free throws to see who gets possession first. First person to make a free throw when the other misses gets the ball. For about fifteen minutes this goes on. Miss after miss after miss. Only once did they both hit free throws back to back. They exchange hardly any words during this diligent process. They take their time at the line and try to focus on the shot. The thud of the ball off the rim echoes throughout the school yard. Then suddenly an overcast fills the sky and tiny rain droplets start falling to the ground. The men suspend their game for the time being to try and dunk on the low hoop again.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
The Meaning of Brunch #2
It happened once every April. My mom, dad, two brothers and my mom's mom got together around the table for the one meal that stood apart from all others that year. This grubfest is called Easter Brunch.
My brothers and I were raised Roman Catholic by our parents, whom were both brought up with strong Italian American heritage. This is the most important holiday to the Catholics, which is why their celebrations are so full of decadence. My immediate family remained pretty health conscious throughout the year which is partly why brunch was anticipated.
After the usual 10:30 mass we would head back home, undo our ties and help get the table ready for our celebration. My mother would open up the armoire and take out her yellow and pink Spring floral china. Each plate, napkin and coffee mug were meticulously placed. We usually said some kind of prayer as well as an acknowledgement of thanks for everyone being able to be together. We all recognized the love and warmth around that table.
Politely but eagerly everyone worked their way around the table. On our plates we'd pile everything from zucchini quiche and fresh fruit salad to green olives and hard boiled eggs. In the middle of the table was a plate of fresh cold cuts and cheeses, which were all neatly fanned out. On it was salami, capicola and prosciutto surrounded by chunks of gorgonzola, feta and fontina. The feature of the meal was always my mother and grandmother's Easter Pena, which is a sweet white bread with a golden brown crust. A few loaves were frozen to be eaten later, but it never tasted the same.
After gorging ourselves we'd sit around the table with empty plates and full stomachs. We would sip coffee and quietly enjoy each other's company. My mother would look out the kitchen window at her garden that was just beginning to bloom. My father would drum his knife on the place mat while his mind wandered. Sometimes he would ask us questions or discuss important matter but he usually just remained quiet. My grandmother would sneak little pieces of lunch meat and bread to our cocker spaniel Kirby underneath the table. This always upset my father but she didn't care. Kirby deserved to celebrate as well.
There are plenty of holidays throughout the year when our family gets together. There is Thanksgiving and Christmas but this was different. This celebration was just us and no one else. For two hours out of the year we had our time to eat, relax and appreciate one another. The memories of these times will be with me forever.
My brothers and I were raised Roman Catholic by our parents, whom were both brought up with strong Italian American heritage. This is the most important holiday to the Catholics, which is why their celebrations are so full of decadence. My immediate family remained pretty health conscious throughout the year which is partly why brunch was anticipated.
After the usual 10:30 mass we would head back home, undo our ties and help get the table ready for our celebration. My mother would open up the armoire and take out her yellow and pink Spring floral china. Each plate, napkin and coffee mug were meticulously placed. We usually said some kind of prayer as well as an acknowledgement of thanks for everyone being able to be together. We all recognized the love and warmth around that table.
Politely but eagerly everyone worked their way around the table. On our plates we'd pile everything from zucchini quiche and fresh fruit salad to green olives and hard boiled eggs. In the middle of the table was a plate of fresh cold cuts and cheeses, which were all neatly fanned out. On it was salami, capicola and prosciutto surrounded by chunks of gorgonzola, feta and fontina. The feature of the meal was always my mother and grandmother's Easter Pena, which is a sweet white bread with a golden brown crust. A few loaves were frozen to be eaten later, but it never tasted the same.
After gorging ourselves we'd sit around the table with empty plates and full stomachs. We would sip coffee and quietly enjoy each other's company. My mother would look out the kitchen window at her garden that was just beginning to bloom. My father would drum his knife on the place mat while his mind wandered. Sometimes he would ask us questions or discuss important matter but he usually just remained quiet. My grandmother would sneak little pieces of lunch meat and bread to our cocker spaniel Kirby underneath the table. This always upset my father but she didn't care. Kirby deserved to celebrate as well.
There are plenty of holidays throughout the year when our family gets together. There is Thanksgiving and Christmas but this was different. This celebration was just us and no one else. For two hours out of the year we had our time to eat, relax and appreciate one another. The memories of these times will be with me forever.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
The Meaning of Brunch
It happened once every April. My mom, dad, two brothers and my mom's mom got together around the table for the one meal that stood apart from all others that year. This grubfest is called Easter Brunch.
My brothers and I were raised Roman Catholic by our parents, whom were both brought up with strong Italian American heritage. This is the most important holiday to the Catholics, which is why their celebrations are so full of decadence. My immediate family remained pretty health conscious throughout the year so brunch was much anticipated.
After the usual 10:30 mass we would head back home, undo our ties and help get the table ready for our celebration. My mother would open up the armoire and take out her yellow and pink Spring floral china. Each plate, napkin and coffee mug were meticulously placed. We usually said some kind of prayer as well as an acknowledgement of thanks for everyone being able to be together. We all recongized and cherished the love and warmth around that table.
Politely but eagerly everyone worked their way around the table. On our plates we'd pile everything from zucchini quiche and fresh fruit salad to green olives and hard boiled eggs. In the middle of the table was a plate of fresh cold cuts and cheeses, which were all neatly fanned out. On it was salami, capicola and prosciutto surrounded by chunks of gorgonzola, feta and fontina. The feature of the meal was always my mother and grandmother's Easter Pena, which is a sweet white bread with a golden brown crust. A few loaves were frozen to be eaten later, but it never tasted the same.
After gorging ourselves we'd sit around sipping coffee with empty plates and full stomachs. My father would ask questions and sometimes discuss family matters with us (not the T.V. show). We would just sit around, digest and enjoy each other's company because that's what's important. That hour and half every spring was just us. The memories of those brunches will be with me forever.
My brothers and I were raised Roman Catholic by our parents, whom were both brought up with strong Italian American heritage. This is the most important holiday to the Catholics, which is why their celebrations are so full of decadence. My immediate family remained pretty health conscious throughout the year so brunch was much anticipated.
After the usual 10:30 mass we would head back home, undo our ties and help get the table ready for our celebration. My mother would open up the armoire and take out her yellow and pink Spring floral china. Each plate, napkin and coffee mug were meticulously placed. We usually said some kind of prayer as well as an acknowledgement of thanks for everyone being able to be together. We all recongized and cherished the love and warmth around that table.
Politely but eagerly everyone worked their way around the table. On our plates we'd pile everything from zucchini quiche and fresh fruit salad to green olives and hard boiled eggs. In the middle of the table was a plate of fresh cold cuts and cheeses, which were all neatly fanned out. On it was salami, capicola and prosciutto surrounded by chunks of gorgonzola, feta and fontina. The feature of the meal was always my mother and grandmother's Easter Pena, which is a sweet white bread with a golden brown crust. A few loaves were frozen to be eaten later, but it never tasted the same.
After gorging ourselves we'd sit around sipping coffee with empty plates and full stomachs. My father would ask questions and sometimes discuss family matters with us (not the T.V. show). We would just sit around, digest and enjoy each other's company because that's what's important. That hour and half every spring was just us. The memories of those brunches will be with me forever.
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