BC and I went out to two NBA basketball games this weekend. The first was Friday, Suns versus the Wizards (he’s a particular fan of the Suns due to a) they win; and b) he lived there)). The second was this evening, due in the most part to his mother, who got tickets to us in the SECOND ROW not quite, but close enough to center court, and I have to say, having to strain my neck to see the big jumbotron thing above us was, well, a problem I could learn to live with.
They didn’t quite sweat on us. But they came damned close. And there was a) a waitress who brought us beer without having to get up; and b) access to a really, really close (and tiny) restroom in which to get rid of the same.
I am loathe to admit it, but I really, really enjoyed it. I still despise (with a passion unsurpassed) the game of football, but after two games in person I am more than ready to reconsider my childhood dislike of basketball. This game made sense, unlike that obnoxious game full of overly obese “athletes” who do nothing other than run into each other. I liked this, and I would be happy to go back, if, that is, BC will talk to me after trashing american “crap ball” while in the bar before the real game tonight.
And if you tell my brother and my father before I do, I will hurt you. I want to see the look of shock on their faces myself.