Recently I had the opportunity to attend a Hopkins High School (HHS) basketball game at the Minnesota Boys State High School Basketball Tournament. Though I remember exactly who the opponent was, because of some unusual circumstances I won't be able to tell you the opponent. Let's just call them BHS. Hopkins (28-0, 4 players already signed to Division 1 universities, with their average margin of victory 32 points) against BHS (15-14, apparently slept with someone to get in the tourney). It wasn’t close – final 68-26, but loads of fun. Why?
1. A bit of hometown pride. Our guys looked like men against boys. I suspect there might be some Chemistry going on in the locker room instead of the classroom – Jesus these guys were big.
2. Finding the player who reminds me of me. BHS point guard, number 32, skinny, studious looking, good ball handler, textbook shooter. Scored 10 to lead his team. Also made good decisions, didn’t take a bad shot (though occasionally shot badly – more on that later). Solid, if unspectacular, defender – good positional defender.
3. The Hopkins fans. The Minnesota equivalent to the Cameron Crazies at Duke, complete with practiced chants. Some examples:
• The aforementioned BHS point guard shot an airball in the opening minutes. From that moment until the game became a joke just before halftime, the Hopkins fans taunted “Air-Ball!” every single time he touched the ball, which was often because he’s the point guard.
• When a HHS player shot an airball, the BHS crowd, of course, feebly retaliated with their own “Air-Ball!” chant. The Hopkins fans responded by chanting in unison, and much more loudly, [Clap. Clap. Clapclapclap…]“We… can’t… hear… you…”.
• Late in the game, with Hopkins emptying the bench, what I counted as the 3rd string Hopkins point guard stole the ball at mid-court and drove for an uncontested layup, the Hopkins fans chanted, [Clap. Clap. Clapclapclap…] “He’s… a… fresh-man…”. As if to say, "even our freshmen are kicking your ass."
• When a BHS player shot a free-throw, the HHS crowd, situated directly behind the shooter’s backboard, stood silent, facing away from the shooter. Yes, away from the shooter. And silent. This is in contrast to the typical opposing-free-thrower-distraction tactic of screaming and waving of hands. Again, the crowd is facing away from the shooter – and silent. Then, just as the shooter is going into his shooting motion, the crowd, in unison, spins around and yells, “Hey!” and waves, kind of like the flight attendants at the end of a flight.
4. Good basketball stuff. Like:
• Royce White – Hopkins stud #1, headed to the U of M in the fall, steals the ball, heads downcourt 1 on 3, stumbles, takes a fadeaway 12-footer, hits nothing but air, and gets pulled from the game immediately on the next whistle. White sits and listens as the head coach gives him what I consider to be very direct feedback on his decision making. No one is above sitting down after making a selfish play.
• Michael Broghammer – Hopkins stud #2, headed to Notre Dame in the fall, steals the ball and heads downcourt for a breakaway, 2-handed dunk and very obviously travels. The game is still relatively close at the time – Hopkins up 17-6. The BHS head coach explodes, gesturing very specifically that he believes that traveling should have been called. This being high school basketball, not the NBA, not only is there no make-up call forthcoming, the BHS coach gets called for a technical foul.
• The center from the Hopkins last string team (and by last string I mean that these 5 guys were literally sitting in the last seats on the bench, next to the 2 Rubenesque female team managers, and that these 5 look like the offspring of the starting 5), in the game all of 5 seconds, gets fouled on the defensive end while rebounding. Apparently not realizing that Blaine is in the penalty, he lingers on the defensive end of the court, and you can see the reluctance in his eyes as he heads down to take the foul shots. He makes the first shot by banking it in on the fly – a shot that in “H-O-R-S-E” doesn’t count unless you called “bank” before taking the short – and immediately smiles and relaxes while receiving a congratulatory fist bump from what I imagine to be his best basketball friend, the skinny last-string point guard. Now completely relaxed and composed, he hits nothing but net on the second shot.
• Five minutes into the game the score is Hopkins 4, BHS 0. On the surface this appears to be a close game. But if you were paying close attention you would have noticed that Hopkins had already missed 4 free throws and several make-able jump shots and layups and BHS had yet to draw iron. Literally. When Blaine gets the ball it takes their starting point guard 8 seconds to advance past midcourt – and that’s just being guarded man-to-man – Hopkins doesn’t begin employing a full-court press until 5 minutes left in the half.
• Hopkins top 9 players – any mix of them – will win the tournament. They are head and shoulders better than any other team. The drop-off to the next 5 guys on the Hopkins bench is pretty small. Hopkins players 9-13 outplayed BHS’s starters. Hopkins has a scary level of depth.
It was a great time for me. I actually had to blink back tears when I thought of how much my father-in-law would have enjoyed this outing. I guess that in the winter, my 'field of dreams' is a basketball court.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
I'm Sorry, But I Don't Remember Who You Are
I am new to the Facebook phenomenon, and need to share something with the many, many people for whom I’ve confirmed ‘friendship’ on my Facebook site:
For those of you I know through my high school connection, I probably don’t remember very much about you.
To be honest, the great majority of you (my high school ‘friends’) have not entered my thoughts in the 24+ years since we were in high school together. There’s also a really, really good chance you didn’t enter my thoughts while we were seniors together either – unless I had you in a class or you were a very, very pretty girl (and I think you know who you are, or were at the time -God knows what Father Time has done to that unblemished high school skin, taut high school bottom, or those blossoming high school breasts). So in that case, it’s been 25+ years since I even recognized your existence.
Here’s the other funny thing. When I joined Facebook, it wasn’t with the expressed purpose of finding all those chums from high school that I’d been missing for better than 2 decades. Not only was it not an expressed purpose, it was neither a secondary nor tertiary purpose. It was whimsical at best when I decided to look for old ALHS buddies. And with the exception of a very (very, very, very) small proportion of my confirmed ‘friends’, I wasn’t looking for you.
Wow, so now what? I’ve reacquainted myself with this group of people who I barely knew, if at all, in high school, and I’m struggling with some fundamental questions, like – if I didn’t hang out with you in high school, why would I want to hang out (virtually) with you now? Once we get past the re-introduction (which often includes a run through the yearbook looking for a face to match with the name), sharing of marital and reproductive status, and a sharing of educational and occupational histories, just how do we continue with an awkward electronic relationship? Or do we at all?
Please understand that I mean no malice by any of this. Had I written this in high school, from what I recall of myself, I likely would have intended much malice. Because one thing I’ve learned about myself is that my recollections from high school, and oddly, there are few, are mostly of all the truly crappy things I did to other people. Or of thought-crimes committed against other people. These actions, if perpetrated by my own offspring, would elicit scorn, scolding, ‘the eye’, demands for apologies and some sort of punishment. But I totally got away with all of these things in high school, though some might argue that I didn’t get away with anything, because I continue to burden myself with shame.
What have we established so far?
1. I wasn’t looking to find my high school classmates.
2. Now I’ve been re-connected with those classmates.
3. I am compelled to air quote our confirmed ‘friendship’, thus questioning its legitimacy.
4. I have a nonspecific, negative, almost aching recollection of my own behavior in high school.
Perhaps now would be the time to put forth a blanket apology for all the things I did in high school that offended you then or, in hindsight, offend you now. Please know that I apologize for:
• any actions, activities, or pranks that may have caused physical injury;
• any condescending remarks, sexist or lewd statements, unfiltered or insulting quips that may have caused you psychological suffering;
• though it really seems like a victimless crime, targeting you in my masterbatorial fantasies;
• adding you to my “if-I-were-Mr.-T-for-a-day,-I’d-kick-your-ass” list, though again, victimless crime;
• mocking you or humorously exposing any one of your physical limitations, including but not limited to your height, weight, speech impediments, inability to play team sports, etc.;
• any other offense I for which I have no specific recollection.
That said, one thing I’m unclear about is why all you people want to be my ‘friend’. For as much as I didn’t hang out with you in high school, you also did not hang out with me. I assume that was your choice. Perhaps you are playing the “collect-as-many-friends-as-possible-in-Facebook” game. I do not understand this game. I desire meaningful contact in my relationships, and the CAMFAPiF game does not achieve that end.
Perhaps you are just reaching out to be … I hate to use this word … friendly. Okay, I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that. But you should know, if that’s the case, I’m not going to be a very good friend. Chances are, unless you live fairly close to me, I’m going to perturb neither my schedule nor my expense budget and make a special, long-distance trip to see you. I probably (99% probability) won’t invite you to stay in my house when you’re travelling through my area. I probably (again, 99% probability) won’t send you anything more than a ‘wall-to-wall’ shout-out on your birthday, even though Facebook will give me ample notice of such events.
So what, then, are we achieving with this electronic relationship? Having written this much (me) and read this far (you), I believe we’re both feeling sort of hollow about the whole thing. I search for meaning in our electronic daliance and come up short. Here’s how my search always ends: I know what happened to you since high school and you me. Assuming our profiles are truthful, we’ve answered the long-standing question, “Whatever happened to XXX?”
“Wow,” I wonder, “is that it?”
I suggested on Facebook that now, because I’ve connected with all these high school classmates on Facebook, I won’t need to attend my 25th reunion this August. This was met with comments that I’ll be missing out on all the fun, etc. What fun? I ask. I submit that the primary reason for attending high school reunions is to find out “Whatever happened to XXX?” Secondarily, we all want to know who got fat? Who went bald? Who took care of themselves? Who succeeded wildly? Who failed miserably? Who married whom? And finally – who will scrape up the nerve to show up?
Disclaimer: I attended my 10 year HS reunion. I didn’t attend the 5 year, 15 year, or 20 year. I’m assuming similar behavior at the ones I didn’t attend and the ones I have yet to attend. At my 10 year I participated in many superficial ‘my-occupation-is-my-identity’ conversations followed closely by a resurrection of all the old HS cliques. Sure, it was nice chatting with the old clique again – what few of us there were in attendance. I’ve stayed connected with precisely 1 person from that reunion, and that only through the annual exchange of holiday cards.
Will my Facebook participation alter my HS reunion participation? Now that I’ve connected with you, read your profile, scanned your “25 random things about me” posting, will I make a more meaningful connection with you if we both attend our reunion? Hmm, let me envision the conversation…
Without Facebook
Me: So what do you do?
You: I sell Mary Kay products.
Me: [nodding] Cool.
You: And you?
Me: I’m in IT at Target.
You: [nodding] Cool.
With Facebook
Me: [having read your profile, I already know you sell Mary Kay products] So how’s that Mary Kay deal working out in the recession?
You: Really good. Beauty products sales traditionally spike during a recession. I think women find it an inexpensive way to improve themselves.
Me: [nodding thoughtfully] Cool.
You: [having read my profile, knowing already that I work for Target] Still hanging in there at Target?
Me: Yep. Times are tight, but we’re still profitable.
You: [nodding thoughtfully] Cool.
So you see how much less awkward and more meaningful this human interaction was, and all because of Facebook. Wow! Technology really does make life better.
One Last Thing
So far we know:
1. I wasn’t looking for you, and you weren’t looking for me, but we’ve connected anyway.
2. I’ve addressed my nonspecific negative feelings toward my behavior in high school by issuing a blanket apology.
3. I’ve figured out how to use Facebook to make our next face-to-face experience slightly less awkward.
I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out the last thing that needs to happen. You see, I frequently (usually) begin writing my posts not knowing how they’ll conclude. They usually begin as a nagging feeling that I’m only able to address through writing, and the act of writing helps me sort through the feeling toward some conclusion. I finally figured out the conclusion.
4. I need to issue blanket forgiveness to you for any slight you imparted on me.
That’s it. It’s that simple! We essentially agree to forgive each other our trespasses. We drop the petty, childish, sophomoric baggage from HS that we’ve dragged all through our adult years. You forgive mine; I forgive yours. If we can enter into this agreement, we can enjoy our company at the reunion this summer.
Now – who’s in?
For those of you I know through my high school connection, I probably don’t remember very much about you.
To be honest, the great majority of you (my high school ‘friends’) have not entered my thoughts in the 24+ years since we were in high school together. There’s also a really, really good chance you didn’t enter my thoughts while we were seniors together either – unless I had you in a class or you were a very, very pretty girl (and I think you know who you are, or were at the time -God knows what Father Time has done to that unblemished high school skin, taut high school bottom, or those blossoming high school breasts). So in that case, it’s been 25+ years since I even recognized your existence.
Here’s the other funny thing. When I joined Facebook, it wasn’t with the expressed purpose of finding all those chums from high school that I’d been missing for better than 2 decades. Not only was it not an expressed purpose, it was neither a secondary nor tertiary purpose. It was whimsical at best when I decided to look for old ALHS buddies. And with the exception of a very (very, very, very) small proportion of my confirmed ‘friends’, I wasn’t looking for you.
Wow, so now what? I’ve reacquainted myself with this group of people who I barely knew, if at all, in high school, and I’m struggling with some fundamental questions, like – if I didn’t hang out with you in high school, why would I want to hang out (virtually) with you now? Once we get past the re-introduction (which often includes a run through the yearbook looking for a face to match with the name), sharing of marital and reproductive status, and a sharing of educational and occupational histories, just how do we continue with an awkward electronic relationship? Or do we at all?
Please understand that I mean no malice by any of this. Had I written this in high school, from what I recall of myself, I likely would have intended much malice. Because one thing I’ve learned about myself is that my recollections from high school, and oddly, there are few, are mostly of all the truly crappy things I did to other people. Or of thought-crimes committed against other people. These actions, if perpetrated by my own offspring, would elicit scorn, scolding, ‘the eye’, demands for apologies and some sort of punishment. But I totally got away with all of these things in high school, though some might argue that I didn’t get away with anything, because I continue to burden myself with shame.
What have we established so far?
1. I wasn’t looking to find my high school classmates.
2. Now I’ve been re-connected with those classmates.
3. I am compelled to air quote our confirmed ‘friendship’, thus questioning its legitimacy.
4. I have a nonspecific, negative, almost aching recollection of my own behavior in high school.
Perhaps now would be the time to put forth a blanket apology for all the things I did in high school that offended you then or, in hindsight, offend you now. Please know that I apologize for:
• any actions, activities, or pranks that may have caused physical injury;
• any condescending remarks, sexist or lewd statements, unfiltered or insulting quips that may have caused you psychological suffering;
• though it really seems like a victimless crime, targeting you in my masterbatorial fantasies;
• adding you to my “if-I-were-Mr.-T-for-a-day,-I’d-kick-your-ass” list, though again, victimless crime;
• mocking you or humorously exposing any one of your physical limitations, including but not limited to your height, weight, speech impediments, inability to play team sports, etc.;
• any other offense I for which I have no specific recollection.
That said, one thing I’m unclear about is why all you people want to be my ‘friend’. For as much as I didn’t hang out with you in high school, you also did not hang out with me. I assume that was your choice. Perhaps you are playing the “collect-as-many-friends-as-possible-in-Facebook” game. I do not understand this game. I desire meaningful contact in my relationships, and the CAMFAPiF game does not achieve that end.
Perhaps you are just reaching out to be … I hate to use this word … friendly. Okay, I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that. But you should know, if that’s the case, I’m not going to be a very good friend. Chances are, unless you live fairly close to me, I’m going to perturb neither my schedule nor my expense budget and make a special, long-distance trip to see you. I probably (99% probability) won’t invite you to stay in my house when you’re travelling through my area. I probably (again, 99% probability) won’t send you anything more than a ‘wall-to-wall’ shout-out on your birthday, even though Facebook will give me ample notice of such events.
So what, then, are we achieving with this electronic relationship? Having written this much (me) and read this far (you), I believe we’re both feeling sort of hollow about the whole thing. I search for meaning in our electronic daliance and come up short. Here’s how my search always ends: I know what happened to you since high school and you me. Assuming our profiles are truthful, we’ve answered the long-standing question, “Whatever happened to XXX?”
“Wow,” I wonder, “is that it?”
I suggested on Facebook that now, because I’ve connected with all these high school classmates on Facebook, I won’t need to attend my 25th reunion this August. This was met with comments that I’ll be missing out on all the fun, etc. What fun? I ask. I submit that the primary reason for attending high school reunions is to find out “Whatever happened to XXX?” Secondarily, we all want to know who got fat? Who went bald? Who took care of themselves? Who succeeded wildly? Who failed miserably? Who married whom? And finally – who will scrape up the nerve to show up?
Disclaimer: I attended my 10 year HS reunion. I didn’t attend the 5 year, 15 year, or 20 year. I’m assuming similar behavior at the ones I didn’t attend and the ones I have yet to attend. At my 10 year I participated in many superficial ‘my-occupation-is-my-identity’ conversations followed closely by a resurrection of all the old HS cliques. Sure, it was nice chatting with the old clique again – what few of us there were in attendance. I’ve stayed connected with precisely 1 person from that reunion, and that only through the annual exchange of holiday cards.
Will my Facebook participation alter my HS reunion participation? Now that I’ve connected with you, read your profile, scanned your “25 random things about me” posting, will I make a more meaningful connection with you if we both attend our reunion? Hmm, let me envision the conversation…
Without Facebook
Me: So what do you do?
You: I sell Mary Kay products.
Me: [nodding] Cool.
You: And you?
Me: I’m in IT at Target.
You: [nodding] Cool.
With Facebook
Me: [having read your profile, I already know you sell Mary Kay products] So how’s that Mary Kay deal working out in the recession?
You: Really good. Beauty products sales traditionally spike during a recession. I think women find it an inexpensive way to improve themselves.
Me: [nodding thoughtfully] Cool.
You: [having read my profile, knowing already that I work for Target] Still hanging in there at Target?
Me: Yep. Times are tight, but we’re still profitable.
You: [nodding thoughtfully] Cool.
So you see how much less awkward and more meaningful this human interaction was, and all because of Facebook. Wow! Technology really does make life better.
One Last Thing
So far we know:
1. I wasn’t looking for you, and you weren’t looking for me, but we’ve connected anyway.
2. I’ve addressed my nonspecific negative feelings toward my behavior in high school by issuing a blanket apology.
3. I’ve figured out how to use Facebook to make our next face-to-face experience slightly less awkward.
I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out the last thing that needs to happen. You see, I frequently (usually) begin writing my posts not knowing how they’ll conclude. They usually begin as a nagging feeling that I’m only able to address through writing, and the act of writing helps me sort through the feeling toward some conclusion. I finally figured out the conclusion.
4. I need to issue blanket forgiveness to you for any slight you imparted on me.
That’s it. It’s that simple! We essentially agree to forgive each other our trespasses. We drop the petty, childish, sophomoric baggage from HS that we’ve dragged all through our adult years. You forgive mine; I forgive yours. If we can enter into this agreement, we can enjoy our company at the reunion this summer.
Now – who’s in?
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