Ok, I admit. I’m spread a little thin.
Partial remedy, I gave away a book. A new book. Recently procured. Having carried the clip, the review around for a couple years. Harvy Araton’s book about the great Knicks teams, of 1970 and 1973. Willis Reed and all that. Actually Hans got seven or eight Knicks and three Lakers: Bradley, Frazier, DeBusshiere (I prompted him: played baseball), not Monroe, Wilt, not at first Elgin Baylor, Goodrich. Et cetera.
I ran into Hans Delannoy my old coach, at Peet’s near Cub, near his father’s home. I gifted him, because he is recuperating or rehabbing from double knee surgery, the book. I wrote: Thanks for making me a champion.
While he took a call confirming the arrangements of his rehab, I read half a page, about Cazzie Russell, catching up to his teammates not Salt Lake City neutral site game against Phoenix Suns but the next stop, and Cazzie arrives very upset because back in Michigan, where he starred for Ann Arbor, the Wolverines, the police pulled him over and cuffed him and put a gun to his head; mistaken identify, even Cazzie Russell. The book says he took it out on May, one of five white teammates.
Kent Lockhart, our teammate (leader; no, the team) was drafted by the Knicks, in 1985, but broke his arm and played in Australia for 20 seasons and coaching, at various levels until just this year retired (he also taught middle school art, at Murdoch school, or a Murdoch School, the rupert type). Kent was coached in the CBA the U.S. minor league, and incidentally the NBA had fewer jobs and fewer teams in his era (although more rounds of draft) by the same Cazzie Russell, and the other year down there (distinct from Down Under) by Phil Jackson. For his part, Kent coached, albeit briefly, Andrew Bogut.
I am actually on my way home to “do” (make, fold, form, delegate) laundry, but stopped for a quick salad and to potentially say hello to a new potential friend, Director of Operations and Student Union Jeannette Smith-Laws (I kept wanting to say Anna Deveare Smith) who, like Russell, is from Michigan and more specifically like potential next governor, Mark Schauer, from Battle Creek. Jessica the assistant kindly gave me a card to facilitate a moreb-business like and less-kismet like meet.
I met Ms. Smith-Laws at Windhover, Stanford’s Nathan Oliveira contemplative facility. A bird flew over him the rest is his story. To rest to sleep to dream. Like a phoenix.
I’m actually stalking Michael McFaul. Beth Custer and I want to gift him a copy of “My Grandmother” a Georgian film, to which she wrote a current score, on DVD. (BLUF bottom line up front, McFaul the former ambassador to Russia and son of a music teacher, maybe like Beth a clarinet player, should hire Beth and Band to do live version of their “My Grandfather” — who knows what insight into Putin and them this 1930s formerly banned film might offer, dish out, like Cazzie floating thru the morass.
I was carrying three books (fished from my trunk, the portable library) to potentially — I have used that word three times, and am shying away from coining a nicked version “pot_”–give away, her choice one of these:
1. Girl With Pearl Earring, by Tracy Chevalier (as opposed to Phil Chenier, the former Cal star and Bullet or Bull)
2. Marx For Beginners, by Rius, from 1976, from Vince Derillo’s yard sale;
3. A Beautiful Mind, by Sylvia Nasar, about John Nash, although I do want to someday suss out Nash w. PJC, which I bought at a yard sale yesterday on Byron. Ali of Byron is a budding film make her.
Like I said, thin too spread.
p.s. Hans was wearing the same Robert Indiana-esque hoops love shirt I shot him in a few months back. L BALL V E.
I have photos of Ali and Jeannette (and I) to post. Check back. Hand check. I thought we fronted Paul Fortier and they lobbed over, for those 16 second half-points, but Hans says it had more to do with the penetration off dribble by Jeff Thiltgen, who further his education, hoops wise and otherwise, thanks to we the people and UC, don’t you?