I’m pretty pathetic when it comes to my genealogy. I know that my mom, The Dreamweaver, has explained what she knows of my lineage before, but for some reason it’s absolutely never held any interest to me whether I’m part French or Dutch or German or Guatemalan … though I’m pretty certain I’m not Guatemalan.
My point here is that I’m not really sure if St. Patrick’s Day applies to me. I kind of recall her telling me there’s some Irish in there somewhere, but … well, the fact is that I just don’t know. My father-in-law, the great Mr. Jack, is wicked Irish, which makes my wife, The Beautiful Heth, half-wicked Irish, which makes me married to a half-wicked Irishwoman. But I don’t think that alone qualifies me.
Am I rambling?
So it was St. Patrick’s Day yesterday, which is the day on which Mr. Brian Beaverstock, assistant principal at the Epsom Central School and one incredibly nice guy, had agreed to pluck basketballs from the rim and toss them back to me along this path to 1 million made foul shots. When he arrived, he’d just come from the school’s season-ending basketball banquet, so he was in a Hoops frame of mind. And the last time I’d seen him on this very court, he’d displayed a mighty fine baby hook shot and rebounding skills in his headbanded performance at a Students vs. Faculty basketball game. So I knew we were not going to have any trouble getting to the magic number of 1,370 in our two hours.
And once we started, I was thinking it could be much more than that. Brian wasted no time in snatching it from the hoop, then flicking it quickly back. And I happened to be having one of those nights when I thought I might actually remember every miss, because there just weren’t that many of them … at first.
Then, with no warning signs whatsoever, I started to kind of stink, including this:
Now, it wasn’t quite that bad throughout, and we did manage 1,600 made shots to go with the abundance of misses, but for the most part it just wasn’t very pretty. As I told Brian afterward, he was fast enough that we probably should have made 1,700, if he’d had an equal partner. Just one of those shooting nights.
Which is not to say that it wasn’t a great night in general. I spent a couple hours with a most excellent dude who has a huge role in making my kids’ school a first-rate institution, and we inched closer toward the 18 percent mark … at 179,907 down, 820,093 to go to 1 million made foul shots.
Thanks, Brian. And I promise to be better next time.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day.