That being said, one thing we did have was basketball. The iconic, sepia-toned shots of Hoops hanging on barns. Hoosiers for Christ sakes. So when a bleach blonde, Beverly Hills sucker wanted to wax poetic about her perspective on roundball, I’m licking my chops. Enter Arizona Wildcat basketball fanatic Melany G. I wrote a piece that can be found RIGHT HERE that came to Melany’s attention, and as fate would have it, I hardly mention her team from Tucson. In fact, I dive head first into denouncing Pac-12 teams in general, dismissing the current state of West Coast hoops as a general facsimile. But Melany’s no chump. She knows her squad, and she’s up to snuff on their history (Picture with Lute Olson? Check).
A few days later, she graciously offers me a little space on her blog to post my piece, where my predictions crumble like bleu cheese on her gourmet salad. My credibility – shot. Worse yet, my pride – deflated.
Melany : 1 Matt: 0.
Luckily for me, she’s a gracious victor, and is giving me the chance to redeem myself on her watch for the forseeable future. I’ll use this space to drop knowledge on sports, music, culture etc. from the perspective of a deeply contemplative (and sometimes stoned) 20-something with a seriously skewed viewpoint of reality.
Remember when you were fresh out of college and thought you could sustain yourself on freelance journalism and playing loud music in dive bars? It was a good period, no? Consider this a formal invitation to live vicariously through me as I search for the life’s deeper meaning. So far, scribbled down on my hand I have 1. “Punk Rock: Play it, live it” and 2. “Don’t forget to wash your hair this week”.