In lieu of still being hurt and having nothing to say about basketball, here’s the story of how I finally got my own car:
First, a little background. When I originally signed my contract I was under the impression that I would have my own car and my own apartment. Apparently when a contract says “will make available an apartment and a car” it does not mean you will get your own apartment and your own car. To the upper management, making available meant giving me an apartment and car to share, which is not the end of the world, but I have previously written plenty on why my specific roommate could potentially make this a living hell, which of course he did. Continue reading “The Time I Stole A Car”
Soooooo, slight setback out here. I was coming off a pick and roll and making a move toward the basket when I was fouled, causing me to slip. My entire lower left leg bent inward as my knee slammed into the ground. Needless to say, it hurt.
I hopped up and off the court cursing, furious that I had to sustain an injury at such a bad time. My immediate post trauma treatment consisted of the old guy who fills our water bottles brining me two ice cubes in a plastic bag and some saran wrap. That’s about as good as the care gets out here. Then the manager tried to get me to stand on one leg to determine where it hurt, and it took a lot for me to not snap at him. I then had to take a 30 min drive just to see the trainer, who used one poke and one twist to make his diagnosis of the problem. (both of which caused shooting pain) It literally toke about 10 seconds. I asked if I needed an MRI, and he assured me that I did not, and that he has seen this injury a million times. Great. Continue reading “Setback”
Be warned that this blog will most likely be littered with run on sentences. For some reason all my papers in college would inevitably consist of about 10 long, rambling sentences in which I would try to cram all of my (ill though out and researched) ideas.
I don’t really know why I started writing like this. Maybe its because I never really have a clear outline of what I am writing, so I just kind of put my thoughts down as they come. I also think it takes less work to just throw a comma in there and continue your thought rather than put a period and be forced to think about the daunting prospect of creating intelligent transitions. Thus, the papers in college that I wrote at the last minute were never of the highest quality. Continue reading “First Days in Israel”