It's been a hectic last week. Got the flu and then got some major Passover action. So, I've been able to watch, too many thoughts, no time to post. But I'll leave you with a quick story.
"Who is that guy?!" My x-hipster-costume-designer-turned-med-student female friend asked me. I was in the Brooklyn for a seder with my college friends. "That guy is not a basketball player! What is he doing on the floor??? He looks like a grizzled hippie!" I couldn't convince her that little Stevie had won two MVPs...until she started to watch him play. "Wait, wait, he's really good." You see, my friend was having what I like to call, "The Steve Nash Experience." It's amazing how quickly we forget or maybe how easily we become inured from the true beautiful absurdity of the Lig. Steve Nash should not exist. Or if he does, he should be holding a drum circle for under-privileged youths in the Portland suburbs. But there he is. Breaking down men twice as big and three times as quick. He's a phenomenon. But one whose true absurdity only the unintiated can still appreciate. Luckily, the SNE is not a singular event. We still have our own SNEs. Most of us are right now in the midst of submitting ourselves to the hypnotic amazing that is CP3...
Comments