I accept full responsibility for Michigan’s loss tonight. The karma gods frowned on me because I kept making fun of Hancock’s beard.
It’s not every day your college is in the NCAA Championship game, which we haven’t been in twenty long years… not since the North Carolina time-out debacle of 1993. I sympathize with Chris Webber, because I know I’m destined to make some fatal mistake that turns into a media frenzy and which defines me for the rest of my life. I mean, I make those almost every day, so that’s going to become a serious problem if I ever become famous.
As far as sports go, you can probably tell I’m a really bad fan. Football’s fine, but it’s when basketball season rolls around that things get hairy. Basketball doesn’t do it for me. It stresses me out on levels. The end of the Syracuse game last night almost killed me, and don’t even talk to me about Kansas. (See? I’ve been watching since the Sweet Sixteen. That’s not too bad, right? Right?) The only reason I ever watch basketball is when a) my family’s watching it, or b) I have a vested interest. But I still always have to lean over and ask someone, “So, college basketball—quarters or halves? And why do they change it?”
We’re not going to talk about hockey. The last hockey game I went to was in high school, and it was because the fan section’s theme was Harry Potter. I brought my wand and I still only lasted like half an hour.
Elodie: I’m watching the basketball game
Elodie: The Michigan players are literally just running in circles in the wrong direction on the court because they’re trying to waste time, but I keep thinking, “That’s exactly what I looked like when I played basketball, except that was me trying my best.”
Tara: Oh my God, I was the worst basketball player
Elodie: So was I
Elodie: You know what though? Sometimes I look back fondly on those times, because our entire circle of friends played each other at various points in basketball and we didn’t even know each other yet. We probably guarded each other and stole the ball from each other and maybe even secretly trash talked each other on the sidelines, because we were twelve years old and the game was the most important thing, and we did all of that not knowing we would all grow up to form a magical union of friendship and play video games and drink shitty beer and make dick jokes at 2 in the morning.
Elodie: Huh. That started off poignant and then it went somewhere else entirely.
Tara: I still think it was beautiful.
As a side note, Tara could not have been the worst basketball player, because I was actually the worst basketball player. My teammates secretly ranked everyone. I was actually ranked second-worst, but then the girl who actually was the worst quit, and I had to accept my new title.