Those of you who have had the pleasure of playing basketball against me know two things: The pain of absolute defeat (ha!) and that I roll my ankle approximately once ever 4-5 games played. In fact, I can remember going to hoop it up the day before my Ph.D. defense and thinking to myself:
I haven’t rolled my ankle playing basketball in over 2 months. I shouldn’t even be out here right now.
Turns out I didn’t roll my ankle. If I remember correctly, I even finished my graduate school basketball career with a game-winning 3-pointer (which is worth 2 the way we play). Those of you who were there will no doubt correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m going to stick with that story anyway. Call it magical realism. Yes, me making a 3-pointer is magical!
Where was I going with this? Am I just going to spend some time reminiscing about 3-on-3 basketball? Pointing out that I can’t rebound, dribble, or shoot a basketball? Adding that I’m really not that good at defense either just seems like a pointless waste of everyone’s time.
Oh wait. Apparently Talocrura (God of Ankles) decided he wasn’t going to wait for me to get back on a basketball court (it has been months), and smote me as I walked in to work this afternoon. He cleverly invoked the god of rain and medium-sized rocks, who conspired to place a .75 by 1.25 in rock in a precarious location just where I typically step off a curb.
See. Magical realism.
Now my ankle hurts.
And you, fearless reader, are now stuck with 260 words in your brain that really don’t have anything resembling a point. Don’t you love this blog?
