It’s impotent to post regularly because you gotta make your presence known down in the paint. Or, is it important? It’s one of those.
Sometimes defenders will slack up because they are winded or have eaten too many cheeseburgers in too many of the fancy restaurants with the sassy waitresses on their pink rollerskates. Nevermind that.
Sometimes a frustrated point guard will protest, “Post up! Post up, you fool, we’re down by twenty points because of all your poor posting.” And I’ll return, “But I haven’t much to say and I’m winded and these hi-tops are not really even mine…”
It’s times like that when I solomnly search back over the past wisdom I’ve accumulated thus far. A wise old man once said to me, he said: “Hey kid! I see what you’re doing. Stop trying to steal my watch!”
We can all learn a valuable lesson from that: “Hey kid. Stop trying to steal my watch.” Makes one think.
I’ve been having a great deal of crickets in my apartment lately. I have no idea how they’re getting inside. We don’t have much to say to one and other. Nope. I usually catch them using a two-cylindrical-object technique that is patent pending. Then, they are released back into the wild. There is no concrete information as to why my apartment complex is being so overran with these crickets. It’s rather alarming. Crickets – well – it doesn’t make a lot of sense for crickets to be indoors. (Because they jump so far, but then I’m all like: where are you going, bug? what is your hurry, bug? There is no grass for you here. Do you even have a plan? I didn’t think so…) And then you can watch the cricket get nervous but he won’t admit to the truth. Crickets are stubborn like that. He just keeps hopping, hopping around in circles – hoping things will turn out – while I chase him with the two cylinders.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m really more like that cricket than I realize. Maybe we all are.