By now, its clear that my ability to prognosticate is lacking to say the least. Although I guess I did pick SC to get to the finals, which actually happened.
Oregon was clearly the class of the tournament and we’ll see how that affects their play in the big tourney. They will either be able to build on this enormous momentum or peter out early with an inevitable cold shooting streak that will likely follow their recent trend of red-hot perimeter game. Not sure which way I’m going on this one.
The tournament though is always great. This year there were a number of great teams playing and we were able to move around Staples Center to catch the game from different angles and gain different perspectives.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the entire weekend was during the SC-WSU semifinal match-up. Thanks to my buddy Luke, we were able to get into Premier level seats, complete with great viewing perspectives (see pic), and seat service of refreshments. I sat on the aisle and Francis was sitting one seat in. Next to him was a cute early-20 something woman followed by an eno
rmous man, probably in his late 50’s.
Francis, always easily distracted from the action on the court to other surrounding stimuli, wanted to strike up a conversation with the woman to his right. After a few minutes of huddling about the approach, he made his move. The conversation as retold to me by Francis went something like this:
Francis: You must be a pretty big basketball fan.
Woman: Not really.
Francis: Do you go to USC?
Woman: No.
Francis: How about your Dad?
Woman: That’s not my dad, that’s my boyfriend.
(having overhead this, I cringed in my seat.)
Francis: Oh.
(end scene)
Once this story was relayed to me, we spent the rest of the second half (in different seats, by the way) trying to make sense of this bizarre transaction. I even tried to take a picture of the strangely paired couple from our seats halfway across the arena with my 300mm zoom lens, but to no avail. After extensive deliberation, the only logical conclusions about this odd couple we came up with were A) he was her boss and she is attracted to his mind and power, B) they met somewhere somehow and she was attracted to his enormous wallet, C) she was a paid escort that he purchased to make himself look good in front of fellow SC alums (not that far-fetched for an SC chump). We agree that one of the three options must be true and the thought that Jabba the Hut was wealthy remained constant throughout our analysis. (Believe me, the Jabba call is not too much of a stretch. Dude was big. He was one of those guys that fits snugly into stadium seats as if he were poured into it. Francis also pointed out that the guy even wore suspenders since no belts were big enough to wrap around his globe-like body.)
The tournament though is always great. This year there were a number of great teams playing and we were able to move around Staples Center to catch the game from different angles and gain different perspectives.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the entire weekend was during the SC-WSU semifinal match-up. Thanks to my buddy Luke, we were able to get into Premier level seats, complete with great viewing perspectives (see pic), and seat service of refreshments. I sat on the aisle and Francis was sitting one seat in. Next to him was a cute early-20 something woman followed by an eno
rmous man, probably in his late 50’s.Francis, always easily distracted from the action on the court to other surrounding stimuli, wanted to strike up a conversation with the woman to his right. After a few minutes of huddling about the approach, he made his move. The conversation as retold to me by Francis went something like this:
Francis: You must be a pretty big basketball fan.
Woman: Not really.
Francis: Do you go to USC?
Woman: No.
Francis: How about your Dad?
Woman: That’s not my dad, that’s my boyfriend.
(having overhead this, I cringed in my seat.)
Francis: Oh.
(end scene)
Once this story was relayed to me, we spent the rest of the second half (in different seats, by the way) trying to make sense of this bizarre transaction. I even tried to take a picture of the strangely paired couple from our seats halfway across the arena with my 300mm zoom lens, but to no avail. After extensive deliberation, the only logical conclusions about this odd couple we came up with were A) he was her boss and she is attracted to his mind and power, B) they met somewhere somehow and she was attracted to his enormous wallet, C) she was a paid escort that he purchased to make himself look good in front of fellow SC alums (not that far-fetched for an SC chump). We agree that one of the three options must be true and the thought that Jabba the Hut was wealthy remained constant throughout our analysis. (Believe me, the Jabba call is not too much of a stretch. Dude was big. He was one of those guys that fits snugly into stadium seats as if he were poured into it. Francis also pointed out that the guy even wore suspenders since no belts were big enough to wrap around his globe-like body.)
We also wondered whether the woman was bummed by Francis' assumption. I'm sure if the guy were really her boyfriend, she would probably feel odd. For a professional though this must come with the territory. The call about him being her Dad was made funnier since she was Latina (probably) and the guy looked like Rick Majerus or a fatter version of Viccini from Princess Bride for you non-college hoops readers out there.
Unfortunately, when UCLA loses in the opening round of their conference tournament, you have time to contemplate such issues.
Los Angeles, baby. Los Angeles.
Los Angeles, baby. Los Angeles.
1 comment:
That story makes Francis the Franchise of all Franchises. What makes the story isn't the fact that the conversation went just that, it's how he finished it--"Oh"-->that is freakin' awkward! I never thought he would ever be at a loss for words.
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