Church league basketball again tonight. I'm not sure if it's an improvement, but I felt like I played better. Below is an excerpt from a conversation with my mother following the game:

Crackhead Mother: "So did you play well?"

Cach: "0 for 1, 1 foul, two traveling calls, and a line foul. So... no."


But... I didn't let last week's performance affect me psychologically. The first time I touched the ball in the game, I launched a 3-point attempt. So maybe playing basketball can be a little like riding a bicycle. Or rather, like learning how to ride a bicycle. I distinctly remember falling repeatedly while doing that, but I did eventually learn in the end. Does that theory hold any water?

Again, it could have been worse: I could have been Boscoe. He got a bloody nose. I stayed injury free! He took a hard elbow to the face. Church league rules!

I feel you, little chubby kid. Sometimes I feel as if Jesus is playing keep-away from me too. He can be such a jerk when he's a little statue playing basketball.