bluevalentine

So, yesterday afternoon, my friend Cheryl sent the sweetest email a girl could ever send her girl friend:

Are you going out tonight to watch the Spurs/Pistons game??

I responded that, apparently, I was now and I picked a place for us to go watch the game because, a little known fact, I am a Spurs fan with a capital "Holy Fucking Shit, you best not talk smack about my boys or ill rip your nuts off". But in a nice, friendly sort of way.

See, I come from a long line of Spurs fans. Dad had tickets back before I was born when they were an ABA team. When my dad enrolled me in basketball at the YMCA (I was the only girl on my team. I was 6.) he inisisted my jersey had number 44 -- George "Iceman" Gervin's number. That's how deep my Spurs roots go.

So, we rolled up to Fox and Hound on 4th and Guadalupe at about 20 minutes til 8 (this venue was picked purely because they have TVs in the bathroom and I'll be damned if I'm missing a single point) and it was already packed but we managed to find the last two top in the joint.

Settled in. Ordered a beer each.

So here are a few observations that I scribbled while watching last nights game:

Will Smith. Thank you for being hot. No. Really. We appreciate it more than you know.

Ditto that for you, Tayshaun Prince.

I wonder if I post this on SG, if people will think I just watch basketball for good looking guys.

Am I crazy for wanting to spend a few hundred bucks to go see the game Sunday? naaaaaaa.

I'd like to say "thank you" to the group of guys who showed up to cover for the Spurs the first 18 minutes of the game while the REAL players were, I don't know, stuck in traffic or something. We wouldnt have even know you were stand ins if it werent for the absolutely embarassing playing. Hopefully we wont need you again.

So, with a minute left on the clock in the 2nd quarter, I excuse myself to the bathroom to call my dad.

He answers. He asks if I'm watching the game and I tell him yes and he says "You didn't hear what happened to me, did you?" and let out that little laugh he does when it's something bad.

"I had a heart attack. Just got out of the hospital today."

"No shit?" I respond. "Why didn't you call me?"

"well, I didn't really want to tell anyone"

So, apparently, Dad is going to be ok but I'm still pretty shaken. I'm an only child. We dont really have family and his attitude of "I didn't want to tell anyone" makes me nervous because what if next time its even more serious and no one calls me. What if no one knows to call me.

And, of course, we are nearing the first anniversary of my mom's death. Coincidence is not lost on me.

I'm going to try and see if I can put together some money so I can get some scalper tickets for the game on Sunday so I can take my dad.

I came out from the bathroom after the phone call and put on my brave face and told Cheryl what happened. I turned back to the tv and pretended to watch the half time stuff so she wouldnt see the tears rolling down my cheeks.

And if she did, I could always blame it on that Manu Ginobili story. Why must every big sporting game have either a pre-show or half time story that just makes everyone want to cry?

I made a little bet with God that if the Spurs won, it was a sign that my dad would be ok. See, thats how I cope. I make bets on sporting events.

So. Yeah. Thanks God for not only letting the Spurs win, but letting them win big.