Hugging Harold Reynolds

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Hugging Harold Reynolds: Waiting For Godunk: 'Tis the Season

Thanks Mom

After my blog about the tall catalogs, my mother sent me an email that read:

All the time I spent trying to buy you & Geoff current clothing & shoes...seems like such a wild goose chase.....and all these years later, the problem still exists. Should have started a real tall men's & women's store, perhaps could have made my nest egg better than teaching. How about every trip to Pittsburgh included a trip to Reyers, and an escorted trip to the stockroom to see all the size 16 & 17 men's shoes in the store. It's where I found Doc Martins.

Thanks Mom!

Hugging Harold Reynolds

Check out the new blog this week on HHR.

Hugging Harold Reynolds: Waiting For Godunk: On Coaching, the Big Dance and Smelly Frenchmen

A special thank you to the members of the 2000-2001 Monmouth University Basketball Team.

Snowed In

So the snow is finally here. Throughout the past week I have been hearing reports that we are going to be buried with a snow storm. Usually that means a blanket of cold rain. Well this time the weathermen were finally correct. Unfortunately this snowstorm arrived on Saturday morning, the only morning that I am able to play against good competition. This presents quite the conundrum. With the Saturday morning games called off and the gym closed, I am now forced to workout like Rocky Balboa in Rocky IV. Apparently all I need is a barn, several huge boulders, an old wagon and some Russians that I can ditch in the snow, all while Hearts on Fire echoes in the background.

I guess I can take the time now that I am snowed in, to read through the countless “Tall Clothing” catalogs that I receive on a daily basis. I really want to know how the marketing departments for some of these stores envision tall people. For some reason the words “big” and “tall” have become synonymous. I am tall yes, but I am not 400 pounds. I am not interested in wearing an overly baggy shirt with a St. Bernard riding a motorcycle. I have yet to see a person my size rocking a Hawaiian shirt everywhere. Yet these are some of the items that are prominently displayed throughout these catalogs.

I feel like most of these stores are about five years behind the current trends. I try to stay ahead of the curve, but even a style-minded, metro-sexual like myself can’t keep up. My best bets are Gap.com, Banana Republic, Men’s Warehouse, JCPenney and even Casual Male XL on occasion. The remainder of the tall catalogs I receive are immediately put in the recycling can. A local store in Philadelphia that has a great selection of stylish clothing as well as large suits is Torre Big and Tall.

(If any of my readers work for these companies, and would like to advertise on my blog, feel free to inquire. As you can see the advertisers haven’t been knocking down my door…sorry, shameless plug.)

These are some of the names I drop when annoying folks ask me where I buy my jeans. They don’t want or need jeans; they are just intrigued by where I find mine. Another odd question that I am asked from time to time is, “Do your legs hang off the end of your bed?” I feel like asking these people why the f**k it matters to them. Why is everyone so concerned with how I live my life? I feel like walking up to random people and asking what sort of fabric softener they use. To me that makes as much sense as asking me about my sleeping arrangements…And I have a California King bed you nosey bastards.

The question I am asked most, in terms of apparel, is where I find my shoes. This one I understand a little more. Most of the time it is from a concerned parent of a tall high school student I currently teach basketball lessons to. I wear a size 17, and I know how difficult it can be to find shoes. Finding athletic shoes is much easier thanks to companies like Eastbay. I have recommended hundreds of people to their website. However when it comes to finding casual shoes, things get far more complicated.

My mom, bless her heart, has been scouring the globe since my brother and I were young, trying to find dress shoes for us. She has succeeded in finding quite a few stores that now pepper me with catalogs. These stores truly are hit or miss. Case and point, this month’s Friedman’s Catalog. (See picture)

Now I am open to many different styles. I don’t judge people by how they are dressed. But, Wow! I put this on you my readers. If you know of anyone wearing shoes like these, please email me a picture at WaitingForGodunk@gmail.com, because currently, I can not fathom it. I know my shoes are not the most stylish and I know I wear my Timberlands frequently, but come on. In Friedman’s defense, they do have a good amount of normal shoes. I don’t blame the company, just the person who designed the cover.

Responses

After reading my recent blog, my brother Geoff emailed me a list of different responses to handle all the questions we are bothered with everyday. Geoff also deals with the same nonsense. He is the same size as me, and played professional basketball as well.

Here is a small example of how random these situations are. My brother, my friend Josh Asselin..who also is a seven footer, and I were walking through a Walmart in Roanoke, VA where we all played in the D-League. A strange looking man sporting a "trendy" mullet came up to us and asked how tall we were. After giving the normal responses, He proceeded to ask the three of us, and I quote..."Ya'll Twins?"

(He also asked if we were "Dazzlers", which I can only assume meant do we play for the Dazzle.)

So anyway, I thought the email was hilarious and decided to add a few more to the list. So here is the Owens brother's collaboration on how to deal with the question we are asked the most...

Responses to the Question “How tall are you?”


 “About 6 feet…not including my head”

 Answer in obscure units:
o about 4.6 cubits
o I dunno…about 3
o A leap
o 21 hands
o 20 billion angstroms
o 27 Roman minor palms
o 92 pounce
o 1 and a half sticks

 “Tall enough to know you are balding”

 “From my head I am tall enough to reach the ground”

 “I dunno…I stopped counting after I was tall enough to go on the good rides”

 “I am not sure…how bad at conversation are you?”

 “It depends on where you start measuring” (dirty)

 “I am much taller with my pants off” (dirty)

 Waiving my hand on the top of my head, “About this high”

 “I am about 2 feet shorter than the tallest man in the world, thanks for pointing out something else I am not the best at” (spoken very angrily)

 “I may be tall but I still have a lot of growing up to do” (great name for a blog by the way)

 When someone refers to you as “big guy,” respond by referring to them as “medium sized guy.”

 “I don’t know…its not finished yet”

 Ask them to guess…become infuriated at incorrect answers.



Responses to the Phrase “you are tall”

 ….. -it is not a f***ing question so no response is needed.

 Quickly turn around; Yell “Who?!! Where?!!” Cower nervously behind them.

 Smile and stare in the distance, Repeat the phrase “So I am”…laugh menacingly.

 Respond in kind with obvious comment regarding their appearance:
o You are short/fat/stupid/ugly/bald/etc

 “I am! Thank you for telling me!” (excitedly)

 Sound confused…Tell them you were 5’10 when you left the house…With your voice trailing off say “I don’t feel so good…I think I need to go to the hospital”…fall to the ground unconscious.

 Point out something obvious in the setting for example:
o “The sky is blue!”
o “Bananas are yellow!”
o “The earth is round!”

Hugging Harold Reynolds

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Hugging Harold Reynolds presents Waiting For Godunk: I'm Tall, I Get It

Thank You's and Updates

So this past week I have received several nibbles, but no bites. I was called by a few teams to see if I had interest, which I did, but nothing ever materialized. It feels nice to know that people still are aware I'm alive.

I also would like to send a thank you to a few friends of mine. My buddy Mike helped with the name of the blog, that has now become my alter ego. We both were discussing how my life is like the Samuel Beckett book, when he suggested the name. Good work Mike.

I also want to thank my buddy Matt Parisi who designed my new logo. It is not officially finished yet, but the rough draft is good enough for me to put up for now. Matt is a graphic designer, so if anyone needs any artistic designs, his ad should be on my page shortly.

Thanks to all.

Also Congrats to my other friend Mike. He was a fellow Waiting for Godunker, who recently landed a job playing overseas.

And finally a confused, nervous and excited hello to Roy Halladay, who is rumored to be close to a deal with my beloved Phillies.

Hugging Harold Reynolds

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Hugging Harold Reynolds presents Waiting For Godunk: Losing Conrol

Jimmy V

I just finished watching the famous Jim Valvano speech during Jimmy V. Week on ESPN. I have never been more moved by a speech. Every time I watch it a tear always makes its way across my face. This year the speech spoke to me like never before. The past few months I have been fairly angry. Nothing seems like it is going my way. I have been working extremely hard and have yet to receive any benefits, besides maybe a decent looking body when my shirt is off.

Listening to him, as he spoke about living everyday with a positive attitude, made me realize that attitude really does dictate life. From now on, as I figure out how to succeed in my current situation, it is going to be with a smile on my face. Just like Jimmy said…Don’t give up…Don’t ever give up…Thank you Jimmy, I certainly won’t.

To donate to Jimmy V Foundation go to www.jimmyv.org

Same Article New Website

I was going to post this earlier, but figured it would be gone by the time anyone read it. However it's staying strong. With my luck it will be gone by the time anyone checks it...You can see my article in the Rumors section under Headlines...

Fox Sports Homepage

Why Not

Apparently I reached some people out there. I am the furthest thing from an egomaniac but I can't help but agree with the one articles use of the term "brilliant". That is usually reserved for my sarcastic wife when I do something stupid around the house. The Yahoo article only has a small blurb, but according to George Costanza it's worth it.

Talk Hoops.net

Yahoo: Ball Don't Lie

Wow

So you know the expression "Oh what a difference a day makes?" No? me neither...Well I am guessing it does considering I have had my blog mentioned on ESPN. That's right the Global Leaders Baby!! Check out the links to see how far my words have travelled today:

ESPN: The Other Ex-Sixer

Hardwood Paroxysm: A Tale of Reggie Evans Eating Manhood

Now maybe I should get my agent to read this, might help me get a job...hmmmmmmm

Syndication...or Something Like That

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Hugging Harold Reynolds: Waiting for Godunk: My Tryout with My Hometown 76ers

Driving Mr. Owens

I know I usually start my blogs with a negative about how it sucks that I am waiting to go play for what seems like an eternity, but today I am actually in a good mood. The reason I have a smile on my face is because it’s Thanksgiving. I don’t know how the rest of the world feels about this holiday, but I love it. Football, food and family. Again another holiday that a normal basketball player does not partake in.

Two years ago when I injured my knee and was out for a few months…a story for another blog…I experienced my first Thanksgiving since I was a senior in high school. That’s a nine year drought. Over that time I experienced Thanksgivings in Australia, Hawaii, Virginia and at various coaches’ houses. Despite the best efforts to make it as familiar as possible, nothing beats the comforts of home. I must admit that although times are tough, I have so much to be thankful for. I have a great family, a roof over my head and a beautiful loving wife…sorry had to get that out, I promise more jokes to follow.

Currently I am writing from the passenger seat of our car as we drive down to Virginia to see my in-laws. I can honestly say the comforts of our small sedan are a little cramped. I find that to be the norm for a seven footer. Unless you have enough money to customize a car, you’re stuck with the standard floor models. I find this is the case for pretty much every aspect of my life, clothes, cars, etc. Nothing is made for the taller gentleman. My wife and I recently took a trip to a local Chevy dealership to see how I fit in the new “gas efficient” vehicles. The one thing I learned was that if I want a vehicle that I am comfortable in, it’s going to cost me. I sat in the new Equinox thinking it’s an SUV that is amazingly efficient. But according to my wife I looked “ridiculous” in it. Maybe because my knees were above the steering wheel…I don’t know. We then sat in every model of car which increased in both comfort and price each time. I felt like Goldilocks. This car is too small, this car my head sticks out of the sunroof, this car is juuuuuuust right. Unfortunately that was before I saw the sticker on the 2009 Chevy Avalanche, which on top of being pricey also has the gas mileage of a Sherman Tank.

(That is not a knock on a Sherman Tank. I never sat in a Sherman Tank before, nor do I know anything about them. For all I know they could be as good on gas as a hybrid. I am just assuming that they are not great for everyday commuting. But what the hell do I know?)

Man I get off topic quickly. Back to the Avalanche. I really do like this vehicle. It fits me, there is room for the family we eventually want to start, and it is fairly badass. I just don’t want to worry about a bunch of hippies throwing paint all over me every time I drive to the grocery store because it’s not “good for mother earth”.

During my travels to various countries, the means of transportation has been interesting to say the least. The first ever experience I had overseas was in Poland. I walked off the plane not knowing what to expect and who would be there waiting for me. I was met by a man who spoke little English, and provided even less information during our two hour drive away from the airport. Once arriving in the team’s city, I found out this was the man who would be driving me everywhere I needed to go. Little did I know how loosely the term “everywhere” was used.

My fellow import and I quickly found out that the driver would drive us strictly to and from practice. Despite pleading with him in my pathetic attempt at Polish to drive us somewhere to eat, he would stay the course. Finally one day he dropped us off at a McDonalds. (I don’t know how I got him to stop or what I agreed to for him to stop, but I do know I will be staying out of Eastern Europe for fear of having my organs harvested, or some other form of torture like I saw in the movie Hostel.)

Once arriving at McDonalds we quickly ordered so we wouldn’t piss our driver off any further. However, when returning to the parking lot we noticed he was nowhere to be found. After a long day of practice we were forced to find our own way home, despite not knowing where the hell we were. I believe we eventually hailed down a cab and showed him a card with our address on it to get home.

The only other way we’d eat would be when our driver occasionally pulled out a menu of a local eatery and mumbled “What want”? I would just point to some random picture on the menu in hopes that it was something edible. About an hour after arriving back to my apartment, an even sketchier looking individual would bang on my door with a bag of food in hand.

Individuals like this were the main reason I stayed in my apartment and didn’t venture out to find food. Let me tell you eating and energy go hand in hand. I find having energy helps my basketball game. Needless to say I was back in NJ not long after I arrived.

Throughout my career I have had various forms of transportation. In Australia I learned how to drive on the opposite side of the car and the road. I quickly discovered how hard it was to turn. I don’t know how many times I made an American right turn only to be heading directly into oncoming traffic. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to blend in since my car was covered with my team’s logos. So if I did something stupid on the road, I couldn’t be very inconspicuous.

In Korea I was driven around by men who were, in my mind, training to be formula one drivers. The only problem being that they were driving buses and not race cars. My wife, who is prone to car sickness, became horribly ill for days after one such ride.


The story that sticks out in my mind about driving overseas comes from my last stop in Kosovo. My fellow imports Keena Young, Brad Jones and I were selected to play in the Kosovo All Star Game. Thinking that this was a pretty big deal, with a formal dinner prior to the game, I was expecting to ride in style. Now the game was about two hours from our city. We all met at our gym and started walking with our coach and captain towards the parking lot. I was looking around trying to figure out which of these vehicles would be taking us to the game. Suddenly a green minivan, circa 1984, pulled up alongside of us and we were encouraged to get in. I was hoping this beaten up old van would take us to our real transportation. I was wrong. I had a hard time accepting that this van, which currently had about seven tall guys sardined into it, would be able to make it to our final destination.

As we made it to what I can only describe as EXACTLY half way between our city and the all star game we decided to stop and fill up the tank. Now let me paint you a picture of Kosovo. There are cities located sporadically throughout the country. These cities are connected by empty roads…not highways….roads! This gas station was in a barren land surrounded by empty fields for miles. As we sat quietly, waiting for the attendant to fill up the tank, the silence was broken by loud arguing between our driver and the man attending to our car. The shouting only became louder and was quickly joined by the “owner” of the gas station and our coach. I asked our captain what was going on. He told me that the man pumping our gas had accidentally put diesel fuel in as opposed to the regular it requires. Now I am not a mechanic, but even I know that spells doom for a van, especially the one we were currently sitting in. (See photo, check out the poor attendant who looks mortified behind our pathetic excuse for a ride.)

The worst part, being halfway, it would take an hour and a half for anyone to reach us. I quickly surveyed the parking lot looking for ulterior modes of transportation. Nothing! I did see two bikes that I am guessing belonged to the two who were currently engaged in said argument. After seeing what we were currently driving, I wouldn’t be surprised if our coach made us hop on the bikes and ride to the game. Oh did I mention it was snowing? Long story short, after standing in the snow for about an hour they eventually drained the engine, refilled it and we were on our way. Needless to say we had a different ride home.

The only means of transportation I am waiting for now is a plane that will take me onto my next leg of the professional basketball tour. Hopefully it will be soon. I want to wish all my readers a very Happy Thanksgiving. Today be grateful for what you have and stop focusing on what you don’t. Until we meet again, I will be here waiting.

The "Weighting" Game

Hands down the hardest thing about waiting for a job has to be staying in shape. I know people out there will say that they are in shape and that they work a 9-5 job. Let me just tell you now…you may be in shape, but you are not in basketball shape. When I say in basketball shape I am talking about being ready at the drop of a hat to go and replace a player who has been practicing with a team for several months now. Just like teams are practicing everyday to be ready for a 48 minute game, you also have to be ready. The major downfall here is they have a contract, and you don’t. I consider staying in basketball shape to be a job in itself.

A typical day in my life starts early. I usually work out 3-4 times a day. It consists of a plyometric workout, a sprint workout, and lifting. After I refuel with my healthy daily diet of twelve eggs and a huge vat of homemade strawberry banana smoothie I am off to the gym to shoot. (Don’t worry, I only use the egg whites, so my cholesterol is fine. By the way if you are ever in the market for buying eggs in excessive bulk, I recommend Costco. It is quickly becoming my favorite place to shop.) Anyway, I have also been mixing in a soccer workout here or there. Oh and yes I did say soccer. For some odd reason, I have become obsessed with this game. I can’t really pinpoint when it happened. Maybe it was in ‘94 when USA hosted the World Cup. I don’t really know. I never played soccer after 8th grade, and I am sure I am the worst player in history, but that sport is fun to play and is great for my agility. I spend about an hour and a half most mornings showing off my pathetic David Beckham impression all while being laughed at by the occasional housewife walking her dog. I’m sure these women have never touched a soccer ball in their lives, but can tell that I probably shouldn’t have either. Soccer also helps me get my sprint workout out of the way. If I am sprinting to a ball I just kicked I find it more rewarding than sprinting to a pointless line.

Another part of my day is spent at the gym trying to get my muscles bigger. I don’t mean to brag, but I have busted my ass in the gym this off season. I am stronger than I have ever been in my life. I don’t know if any of my readers knew me in high school, but I might have been the skinniest person on the planet. I didn’t know what the term “bench press” meant until I was 19. I always just figured it was some sort of power tool. I was 6’11” my senior year in high school. Here is a fun mathematical equation to solve my weight back then. I don’t care how small you were, just figure out how much you weighed in high school and subtract 5 pounds. That’s what I weighed. I was 17 years old and taller than everyone, everywhere I went. I developed a great way of handling it. I hunched over all the time, making me look even more attractive to all the high school girls. It wasn’t until college that I decided to embrace the height, stand up straight and become the ladies man I am today…PAUSE FOR LAUGHTER…

The tough thing about basketball is unless you are competing against someone else on your playing level, it is hard to get better. No matter how many shots you shoot, and how much footwork you do, it is still not the same without that competition. How do I know if my “slippery eel” (thank you Nick Horvath) will work if I am practicing it against air? I can make a thousand by myself, but once I try it in a game I might have “Molten” written across my forehead…WOOSH!! That is the sound of that joke flying over half of my readers’ heads. Molten is the name of the ball used for international competition…c’mon people keep up. Trying to find that competition is not always easy. Most professional players are already playing somewhere. Colleges no longer have open gyms and are knee deep in their seasons already. I try to meet up with players I went to high school with and get a couple of games in a few times a month. Other than that I head over to a local college on Saturday mornings to play against a group of former professional basketball players who are now successful businessmen and doctors. I don’t know if I should feel confident since I am still trying to play, or diffident since these guys are all wildly successful. Either way the drought of consistent fall basketball puts a guy like me at an instant disadvantage even with all my hard work.

Despite working hard to make sure I am in shape when my agent finally calls me with good news, my timeframe for this waiting game is growing smaller. I am worried all this time and effort might go to waste. I have heard the term transition a lot these past two years, mostly in my cover letters and resumes. I know that this is the hardest transition I will ever have to make. Going from being the star…wait fan favorite…wait contributor…there we go, to being just another blank face in an office somewhere is not appealing to me. I know that it’s a transition that will eventually have to be made. My goal is to postpone it a little longer until I know that I can’t compete at the professional level. Now I know how Brett Favre feels…Oh wait he is getting paid 12 million dollars this year…Never mind. Regardless I will keep pushing through with the hopes that someday in the near future I will be called on to contribute. Until then the “weighting game” continues.

One Wedding and a Temporary Career Funeral

Well I must apologize to my public...my one follower...for the delay since my last post. I was experiencing a rare occurrence…being home for a friends wedding. As a professional basketball player there are few months that I can fill out a wedding attendance card without fear of costing the brides parents two extra settings. I know that it is a little stressful for our poor hosts. We usually give the same response…”We’ll be there as long as we are here.” It’s a horrible response to give. It’s like telling them that we would be so honored to attend their wedding, unless something better comes our way. Over the years I have missed even my closest friend’s weddings for this game.

I am never happy when I have to make the call that I will be unable to attend the ceremony TOMORROW. It is such a fluctuation of emotions. On one hand, I am able to buy groceries again, and on the other I just missed out on the most important day of a good friend’s life. Tough call. However, when I am able to attend, a part of me is stressed that I am unemployed and going on what my friends and I call a “forced vacation.” Summer weddings are usually my best bet. I am supposed to be off of work and I can relax and enjoy.

Long story short this weekend was a lot of fun. Our friends Mike and Eden were married and it was filled with lots of awkward 7ft dancing. I am not much of a dancer, but I find when I have been drinking, I can blame the “full body dry heave set to music” on the liquor. When I first get out there I stick close to the wife while having serious self-confidence issues. Once she gives me the nod of approval that I’m doing ok…that’s when I really get into the groove. By the end of the night I am usually sweaty and worn out. In my mind it is a lot more fun then it appears. So if one of my readers happen to see me at a wedding, it is better to just smile and give me a thumbs up regardless of how my “running man” looks.

The main reason, however that I have been tardy with the blog, is the fact that my ego took quite the hit this week. I was scheduled to be drafted in the D-League last Thursday. A bunch of friends were in from out of town for the wedding. So I thought why not bring everyone over for a good old draft party? The answer of course was because there is a chance I won’t get drafted. And that is exactly what happened. Ouch…and yes it is as embarrassing as it sounds. Fortunately I have a great group of friends who picked me up and had me in a good mood within minutes. The thing that really gets my goat…thank you Charlie Kelly…is the knowledge that I know I am better than a ton of those guys. I understand that at 29 I am no spring chicken. But it still sucks none the less. When I started this blog, I was under the impression that most of my future posts would be from somewhere other than my sectional. It appears that my fans…again most likely singular…will get just what the title of this blog implies…waiting. Who knows, might be interesting reading.

I will say this…I started my career in the D-League and was so blessed to have a coach take a chance on me. It took me on a long road of professional basketball where I have had lots of successes and made lots of money. If Coach D never took that chance I never would have had a shot. All I can do is hope that one of the young guys a coach took a chance on this year will earn it. I hope he will work as hard as I worked and be as appreciative as I have been. And I wish him the best of luck. But for now I sit here under this tree looking into the distance waiting…waiting for that phone to ring...waiting for a team to sign me up…waiting to godunk.

Halloween

My name is Kevin Owens and I have been playing professional basketball for the past six years. I decided to start a blog documenting my daily life. I don't particularly think I am that interesting, however when telling people about the traveling circus that is my life, they seem very entertained.

I like to refer to my self as an "athlete for rent." I sit with a vacant sign around my neck every August waiting for a team to sign me up. Once that happens I am whisked away to various countries on a few days notice. I then arrive in a country that speaks a different language and am ordered to perform mistake-free basketball for ten months, while people tell me how bad I suck in whatever broken English they can muster up. The life of a professional basketball player is not as glamorous as it appears…Wait correction: My life as a professional basketball player is not as glamorous as it appears. Despite the flaws I still love what I do. I was able to get married, buy a house, and have my summers free to get better and watch my beloved Philadelphia Phillies. This job brings with it a lot of benefits, as well as a lot of stress.

The title of this blog is a reference to the famous 20th century Samuel Beckett play Waiting for Godot. It is a story about two characters waiting for a man who never arrives. The past two years, I have been waiting for a team to arrive and take me to their strange land where I can perform my trade. Kosovo finally arrived in March. Despite my successes there, I now find myself again waiting.

The past few weeks have been very stressful. When I arrived back from Kosovo in May I was contemplating retirement. The one thing I said throughout my career is if I can still perform at this level, I will keep going. I feel like I am still capable. However, I told myself that I would not get into the same waiting game as last year. So I set up a projected retirement date of October 1st. If I was still at home waiting, I would move on and leave the semi-glamorous life behind… Well it is now October 31st. As much as I enjoy giving out candy to the unoriginal high school kids who come to my door, (a burglar and a dude in a t-shirt…really guys?) I can’t help to think I might be better off, you know, with a FREAKING JOB!!

In the beginning of the month a team from Sweden offered me a contract telling me I had to leave the following day for 8 months. That was a fun conversation with my wife. “Hey honey, watch the house and mow the lawn, I will be back in May.” However despite agreeing to all their ridiculous demands, they rescinded the offer and took a player who was probably cheaper and less talented. I love the way foreign teams operate. When I was young I was told I needed experience, now that I have experience I am too old. It is no wonder half the teams in Europe are folding.

So now I am about to sign a contract to play in the NBA D-League for one more shot at the big time. I will continue to document my progress on a weekly basis. Now if you’ll excuse me Phillies-Yankees World Series Game 3 starts in just over an hour and I have to mentally prepare.