March Madness May Have Just Gotten A Little Thorazine

A kid named Jeremy Tyler just pumped a burning slug into big time college basketball’s gut, and now we get to watch it die a slow painful death, which I don’t really have a problem with. Jeremy Tyler is a 6’11” high school junior in San Diego who is skipping his senior year to go play professional basketball in Europe. I say good for him. Big time college sports – football and basketball – are indentured servitude at best and slavery at worst. They’re part of a subtle syndicate with the NFL and NBA who use the college games as free minor leagues, and the colleges make billions of dollars pimping out kids. The NFL has a more legitimate “argument” for forcing kids to wait to play than the NBA does. Eighteen year old bodies are not developed enough to endure the constant car crashes that pass for life in professional football. That’s not the case in the NBA, but a few years ago they decided to follow football’s lead and instituted a policy where players had to be at least one year removed from their high school class’s graduation date, which ultimately forced kids to play college ball for at least a year. These kids are squeaking out 2.0’s in the fall and then showing up for zero classes in the spring because grades don’t come out until after the basketball season is over. It’s a sham. Everybody knows it’s a sham. But the people making the money don’t care. Jeremy Tyler decided to hold up a middle finger to the NCAA. His grades and test scores are good enough to get into college, but he doesn’t want to go. He wants to play basketball. Some European team is willing to pay him six figures a year to do that. He’ll face better competition, and if there are holes in his game they’re more likely to be exposed and he’ll have an opportunity to fix them before he makes the transition to the NBA in a couple of years. The reason this is going to kill big time college basketball is because it doesn’t hurt the NBA at all. They still get their minor league that they don’t have to pay for, and it’s a better minor league. College basketball is going to be reduced to the level of the rest of the non-football sports, an afterthought. His grades and scores aren't going away so if basketball doesn't work out, college is still going to be there. Good luck kid.

I Hate The Elliptical Machine

I don’t like exercising inside as much as I do outside. I spent an hour on an elliptical machine at the Y today and it sucked – all 360 seconds of it. I was stuck watching Marquette play St. John’s in the Big East basketball tournament. They were making me angry with their horrible play. The score was eleven to four nine minutes into the game. These kids just didn’t have any talent. For the love of God shoot the damn basketball. Both teams were looking to get fouled and go to the free throw line instead of putting the ball in the basket the way Dr. Naismith envisioned. These guys were missing wide open shots that I was able to knock down in high school, and that’s taking into account the added pressure of tournament ball. Today, I’d be bangin’ out jumpers and talking next level trash. I wouldn’t feel the pressure because I wouldn’t care about winning or what the coach wanted. I’d care about getting my shots. Actually, none of that would happen. I just have the exact same delusions of grandeur every aging fat guy that earned a varsity letter at some point has. Normally I would have just changed the channel, but I was stuck on the elliptical machine, and nothing else was worth watching. I got on at 2:05 and tipoff was at 2:07, and since there were so many fouls, the game crawled along at a snails pace. I spent the entire time watching guys go through ridiculous routines at the free throw line just to miss them. I could turn the television off, but then I wouldn’t finish an hour on the machine. If I had to stare at a blank screen while fake skiing, I’d completely lose my mind. Cardiovascularly, it was a piece of cake, but the elliptical hits the muscles in the legs a little bit differently. I was determined to burn a minimum of 720 calories, which was made nearly impossible by the crappy basketball and sliding in place. I enjoy being outside so much more than being on a machine. Running outside is experiencing life. Using a cardio machine is imitating vermin. But the River Run is a few days away, I need to continue losing weight, and my feet and knees needed a break. So the low impact machine was a necessary evil. I also really miss lifting weights, and I’m looking forward to getting back into it next Monday. When I cross the finish line at the bottom of the Hart Bridge, running season is over for all intents and purposes. The next hard race, after the River Run, is the Tour du Pain, and that’s not until July or August.

I'm Just Lucky To Be Here

We went to the beach today. We didn’t want to get behind on our trips during Florida’s nine months of summer. Today is one of those days when I don’t understand why people live elsewhere. It was about 68 degrees when we got to the beach, and I’m pretty sure it’s physically impossible to have better weather. It wasn’t scorching hot but it was warm enough for people to go surfing. We saw our first dolphins of the season, and who doesn’t love dolphins? I’ve lived here for twenty-eight years and it’s still a huge thrill to see wild dolphins going about their business. After getting home from the beach I grilled some burgers and drank some beer. Ama and Granddad came over and basked in the greatness that is LMJ. I wonder if LMJ is going to understand how lucky she is to have three grandparents constantly spoiling her as she grows up. I can’t express how wonderful it is to have family close. March is also basketball season, and today is a banner day. Duke and UNC are playing today at the college level, and the Spurs and Suns are representing the pros. Basketball doesn’t get more exciting - at least until next week when the NCAA tournament starts. We should start a pool. Not only does everyone else have one; nothing says depression and financial desperation like gambling. What could be more fun than putting the fate of whether or not you keep your house on nineteen year old boys and how they play on a given day? Sorry, but nineteen year old Marines are men; nineteen year old college basketball players are boys. It’s science. I truly love the changing seasons, even though we only get one and a half here. I think that probably makes them mores special.