300 Cubits of Opportunity

So I watched part of a silly movie, Evan Almighty, about a month ago. It was pretty lame, except for one scene with some great dialogue. It has stuck with me so I thought I would share.

God (played by Morgan Freeman), is disguised as a waiter and appears to the wife of a modern Noah (in a New York diner). His name tag says “Al Mighty.” (ha ha) He has the following conversation with Joan (ha ha) about her husband building a modern-day ark. Interesting take on how God might be answering prayers.

God: I love that story, Noah and the Ark. You know, a lot of people miss the point of that story. They think it’s about God’s wrath and anger. They love it when God gets angry.
Joan: What is the story about, then? The ark?
God: Well, I think it’s a love story about believing in each other. You know, the animals showed up in pairs. They stood by each other, side by side, just like Noah and his family. Everybody entered the ark side by side.
Joan: But my husband says God told him to do it. What do you do with that?
God: Sounds like an opportunity. Let me ask you something. If someone prays for patience, do you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If they pray for courage, does God give them courage, or does he give them opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for their family to be closer, you think God zaps them with warm, fuzzy feelings? Or does he give them opportunities to love each other? Well, I got to run. A lot of people to serve. Enjoy.

Often you find truth in the strangest of places.

Getting Jimmered

In honor of Jimmer “Got Range” Fredette who blew it up (43 points) in the only Top 10 NCAA matchup ever staged here across the street in the Marriott Center, I have been hoisting some beyond-NBA-range threes all this week. So far so good as I have hit three of the six that were actually “Jimmers.” (Don’t worry I missed all kinds of shots closer in to compensate.) He’s two inches shorter but I hear his feet are 2 sizes bigger than mine . . . a solid foundation for establishing position and making moves. Picture a hobbit making his way through Mordor. Actually, please don't. Okay, back to the story.

I had a feeling that this would be a special year when junior Jimmer said he was pulling out of the NBA draft and returning to play for BYU his senior year. He had talked to Danny Ainge after a workout for the Celtics, according to USA Today: "I didn't know where I was going to be picked," Fredette says. "That was concerning to me. I knew if I came back, I'd have a great year. Danny Ainge told me he had one of his best seasons his senior year." So before the season started, when my buddy asked if I wanted to share a set of season tickets, I jumped at the chance.

Wednesday night BYU played San Diego State to determine which team would lead the Mountain West Conference (may it rest in peace, we’ll be playing teams like St. Mary’s, Gonzaga, and Portland next year). More than two dozen NBA scouts descended on Provo, students stood in a snow storm to get better seats to the game, then a total of 22,700 fans found their seats well before tipoff. In my almost three decades at BYU I have seen some fierce games (against Utah, UNLV, etc.) but this was in another realm entirely. Sold out.

And intense. And loud. Especially during the last five minutes when the Cougars played some of the best defense of the year, forcing SDSU to a standstill twice; absolutely stymied and forced to squander time-outs. Then Jimmer dropped foul shot after foul shot and put the game out of reach. I have some inkling of how hard those athletes work to become proficient. So when they win at a high level and are rewarded it is really satisfying for the athlete and for those that witness the performance. At the end of the game the student section stormed the floor of the Marriott Center and Jimmer was escorted to a safe spot behind the scorer’s table.

Like everybody else at BYU (and in the national media), our staff has Jimmer fever. We will be publishing a feature on Jimmer in our April magazine; we’ve been working on it for a while now. So we get to follow the news, look at all of the pictures, watch the games, and call it work. It’s not my primary responsibility but I am doing my part to stay current and knowledgable.

One thing we are following is the creative fan signs. Favorites so far: “Chuck Norris wears Jimmer pajamas,” “Urban dictionary, Jimmer (noun) One who is in range as soon as he steps off the bus,” and finally, “We’ve got Jimmer, your chances just got slimmer.” We also have another player named Jackson Emery who just broke Danny Ainge’s steal record. A sign for him reads: “I had another sign but Emery stole it.” We’re having a blast.

We're saying Jimmer a lot . . . the player, the noun, and the verb. Being “jimmered” is something else entirely. That’s just playing your hardest and still getting beat; running out to defend a guy shooting from well beyond the arc, arriving too late, turning, and watching the ball barely touch net as it swishes. Wondrous.

I wore my Boston Celtics hat to the game, backwards like a dirtbag of course; is there any other way? I should have made a sign like the kid in the picture below. I would love to see Jimmer represent BYU on my favorite NBA team. But I’ll root for him wherever he ends up; he’s so fun to watch. For now, I am content to go to every home game from now until tournament time. It’s a special year and a special team and I am thrilled to be along for the ride.

A Band of Brothers and Basketball

A wise man once said, “My skill level is only outdone by my modesty.” I find this to be my occasional mantra on the basketball court when I hit two shots in a row. Then my legs go and my jump shot goes somewhere with them. Sometimes I envy my teenage boys their youth. Not sure if the killer instinct you develop with age would be a fair trade or not. But all of this is just prelude.

In this week where two of my brothers had birthdays, I wrote a completely different blog post. It was too deeply personal, however, and I decided to keep it to myself. Another day and another edit and maybe I can throw it out here for y’all to read. In lieu, this is all I’ve got.

For me brothers and basketball are synonyms. Ever since I can remember we have hooped it up. And, even now, with time and space separating me from my kin, I still feel their presence during a particularly good string of basketball games. Like this week. No clock, no refs, just running (walking)the court with guys who love the game. I am truly blessed to have a dependable group of guys who put up with my ridiculous behavior and inconsistent style of play.

So, in related news, we are gearing up for another year of intramural basketball. Every year (almost against my will) a coworker makes me captain of our team (named Full Bleed because of its publishing origins) and, while I enjoy playing a “real” game with bad refs against kids half my age, I am at a point in my basketball career where I enjoy my noon ball more, and the noon ball guys I play with, more than that. So I am hoping to run the scoreboard and watch my team win.

Last year I decided to infuse some noon ball into my annual captaining of this intramural ball team. I had ventured the thought of putting a team together of just “noon guys” but decided to try this integrated approach first. I liked the results. The real advantage here is my work guys are gifted  designers and create custom designed t-shirts each year. (And you all know how I am a slave to hoops fashion.) But by adding noon players John, Larry, Paul B,. and Joel into the mix, we had some fun last year, scored a lot of points, and progressed further in the tournament than ever before. The game that will live in infamy was played on our “home court” last February. We were on fire, as they say, and the final score was 89-31. Unforgettable.

So this year I am adding a few more hand-picked role players. We are using a retro logo in white on the shirts and I’m hoping for red numbers “bleeding” down the front and back. The only person more excited than me is Larry but that could be said about anything in life. First game is Jan. 21st. I’ll let you know how it goes.