Good old Chris Nicolopoulos, skipping the Patriots game (which wasn’t such a bad game to miss, actually, but that’s not the point) and joining me an hour from his Hampton home, on the night his lady returned from Rhode Island, for an 8-10 p.m. rebounding session. Good friend, is what I’m saying …
So there we are, absolutely rolling through our two-hour session, I’m pouring them in and he’s firing them back at a beat-the-band pace. We’ve got 1,400 in the books with 15 minutes still to go. Once we get to 1,523 we’ll be at 25,000 total, and we’ll have crushed the two-hour record pace. I mean, we’re absolutely flying.
And then it hits me …
We’re filming all these (the goal is 1 million documented free throws), and suddenly I realize I’m pretty sure we’re out of space on the camera. So I stop mid-shot, panicked, run over to the tripod and, sure enough … the screen is blank.
“I’m an idiot.”
Chris couldn’t disagree. He’d have been lying.
We looked at what we had captured, figured it was about six or seven hundred, and at that point we couldn’t even bring ourselves to finish up.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Who was I to argue? Oh, right, the dope who forgot to free up space on the camera.
So we left, and I returned home and figured out that of the 1,400-plus we made, only 625 were caught on tape. Checked on the Patriots. They were getting pummeled by the Saints. An all-around lousy kind of evening.
So out I went into the cold, to repent. I drew a chalk line on the driveway, threw on a sweatshirt, grabbed a beat up outdoor ball, and started firing away. A little more than an hour later, at just about midnight, I had struggled — and I mean struggled — through 375 for an evening’s total of 1,000 even.
Crappy night — Sorry, Chris — but at least in the end 1,000 more ended up in the books.
So here we are, still short of 25k. Bummer. That’s 24,477 down, 975,523 to go.