How I Met Larry.
Despite my
clever ambition with the title, the Larry in question is not Mr. Bird. That
title might have been, The Day a Bird Brought Me to New Heights or
Hick Meets Hick, but not in French Lick.
Since I don't want to reduce one fantasy by discussing another, I would like to
move back to last Thursday. I actually have to start a little before.
As some of
you may know, I am a teacher presently working in Sarnia, Ontario. It is my
first year at my new school and I have been doing my best to resurrect their
basketball program. In all fairness, the school has a lot of solid athletics
and they love volleyball, hockey, and badminton; thus basketball takes a
distant fourth. Challenge accepted!
In November,
I approached our principal with the possibility of attending a Raptors game. I
had a friend who owned a suite and we would just have to pay for the extra
tickets. At the time, the Raptors were taking their seats for Tankapalooza and
the tickets were not in demand. Everything worked out, a little too easily, and
on February 27th, twenty members of our school were signed up to
attend the game against the Washington Wizards.
The kids
were excited, I was excited, and it looked like it would be a great night.
Enter Mother Nature and this God awful winter we have been having. We have
already missed too many teaching days and last Thursday was bad. It was not
snowing bad, more windy, cold, and snow drifts bad. I received a text at noon
stating the bus would have to be cancelled. Several parents requested their
tickets and I knew I would have to go as well. I asked a couple of graduating
players if they wanted to go, my VP also wanted in, and we set off in my KIA
for what might be the worst decision of my life.
If the game was west of Sarnia, I should have had my head examined; maybe it should be examined anyway. We passed three bad accidents and were disturbed by each of them. One looked like a giant had smushed three transports together into a ball. But we were okay; in fact, it was the fastest drive I have ever made into Toronto. I assumed all the smart people stayed off the highway allowing me to get to downtown Toronto in less than three hours during rush hour. (I am now the old man bragging about driving times.)
My next and last goal was to get everyone
back to Sarnia as early as possible and safe; it was a 7:05 tip off and I hoped
to be out of Toronto by 10:00 and home by 1:00 am; doable. I sent our party of
four up to the suite and had a reunion with my old friend Jon, who played with
me in a pickup league together when I worked in Toronto. Jon is one of the most interesting guys you
will ever meet; he works for the NBA, he is a basketball junky, he plays the
game hard treating every possession like its game seven (I have seen him foul
his 65 year old dad to prevent game point), and once he takes the ball shoes
off, he is one of the nicest guys you will ever encounter.
Jon was
working the game that night but still came to gate one to say hi. We quickly
dove into basketball conversation when he asked, "How many kids you have in
your group?"
"Not sure.
We had to cancel the bus so I drove in. Might have a couple of parent groups in
the suite; no more than 18."
"Ok. Well,
I've got the Larry O'Brien Trophy for this year in my office. I can take them
up to see it after the game if you want."
"You're
kidding. Of course we do!" I am not sure if anyone says no to that offer.
I went to
the suite and discovered the four of us had the huge box all to ourselves. We
were going to be kings for the evening. For me, the game was becoming an
afterthought as I couldn't wait to see the trophy; no problem thirty minute
detour and leave at 10:30.
It was a
great game; lots of lead changes, back and forth, some good dunks, too many play
reviews, but I was very pleased all the same. As we approached the end of the
game, I giggled this might be a last second game winner or even overtime. What
a great way to introduce the boys to professional basketball. Five seconds
left, tie game, Lowry shoots from seven and overtime it is.
Recalculate,
10:30 plus twenty for overtime, new departure time should be around 10:50. Not
bad but my first period English class might suffer in the morning. No problem. I
had two other thoughts during overtime:
1. Why do
people, especially Torontonians, commit a night to a game and leave in the
dying minutes just to beat traffic? Stick around and enjoy the event. Don't allow
life's little inconveniencies prevent you from enjoying the moments.
2. My
nomination for Parent of the Year and Fan of the game were sitting together. I'll
assume it was a dad who brought his girl to the game and stuck out the entire
thing. We noticed this kid in OT. She was up during every stoppage in play and
never stopped until the game was over. The lower bowl needs more like her.
Overtime!
Tied at 114,
Lowry with the ball again, dribble penetration, Wall defends, layup, block,
double overtime here we come. Loads of excitement but now I have to
recalculate; 10:50 plus 20 for double OT means we are not leaving until 11:10.
I won't be getting these kids back until after two on a school night. Yikes!
Double overtime
Dying
seconds down two, DeMar on the block, pivot, fake, pivot, score! Tied and off
to triple overtime. You are kidding me.
11:10 plus 20 means an 11:30 departure and 2:30 arrival time. I have not even
considered bad or closed roads.
Triple
Overtime
After a
relatively low scoring second overtime, this one was the opposite; lots of
baskets for both sides. It also led to both sides losing significant players to
fouling out. Exhausted, the basketball gods took pity on both sides and ended
it here. Unfortunately, Washington made a late run and won 134-129.
Disappointed by the outcome, everyone knew they had just seen a great game. It was
then I said to the boys, "We have one more stop to make."
Jon met us
in the emptying lobby and was surprised to see just four of us; he was willing
to take all 20 upstairs despite the trip overtime. All class! We went upstairs
and I got excited when we entered the NBA Canada office. We waited at the lobby
door and Jon went to get The Trophy.
As he
wheeled in a huge box, he asked the boys, "Do you know what is in here?"
"No." They
responded in unison.
"This year's
Larry O'Brien Trophy." He said.
Silence. The
great kind. The kind of silence you hear when someone is truly speechless. All
of us were in awe. We wheeled it in and unpacked the prize. Jon explained the
rules and we all snapped pictures. I wanted to give it the MJ hug but it could
not be touched until the award ceremony. My wife later said it would be sacrilege
to handle it before the champion did anyway. She was right.
A few
minutes later, the trophy was returned to the box, we said our goodbyes and
thank-you's to Jon, and we were on our way. We floated back to the car and the
drive home seemed like minutes. We discussed the game and school and other
stuff, but circled back to the Trophy time and again.
It was 2:35
when we arrived back in Sarnia. I dropped everyone to their car in the parking
lot and checked into the hotel. I was back in school in less than five hours.
Andrew was in my morning class and neither of us had any energy. We both just
laughed about the night before. Jeff was late but made it for third period and
they were both on time for practice after school making the drive to Toronto
that much more worthwhile.
