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”
Another funny story about my roommate to kick things off, this one pertaining to his continued terrible taste in music and unintentionally comedic ways.We were on a ride out to Haifa, and since I was the one driving I figured I would pick the music. I put on Only Built for CubanLinx , a classic rap album.
My music consumption has gone way down since I have been out here, where I am without fast Internet and my nice speakers, so I was thoroughly enjoying the chance to listen to some decent music for once while we drove. As to be expected, about 4 songs in he abruptly turned off the cd player, stating that he “could not listen to it anymore” and that “he was past the phase in his life” where he listened to this type of music. Continue reading “Some Bitter, Injury Induced Bitching”
Couple musings to start:
It’s crazy how nobody drives on Yom Kippur. The streets are flooded with kids riding bikes. I have been told that if I were to drive my car people would throw rocks at me. That’s some overly religious bs if you ask me.
Most of the people here think I am straight up crazy for wanting to come here just to play basketball. It seems like it is something they just cannot comprehend. One of my teammates went crazy on me when he found out I went to Harvard, shouting “What the FUCK are you doing here!?!” in this thick accent. It was hilarious. Continue reading “Tournament and Other Thoughts”
Still hurt, which sucks. Yesterday the assistant trainer told me that he thought I might be out for longer than he originally thought. He compared my injury to Troy Polamalu’s, and he’s supposed to be out 3-6 weeks.
It’s interesting how the pro football player got X-Rays and MRI’s, and he has a nice, semi-defined return date. I on the other hand got a glance and a simple “don’t worry, this happens to soccer players all the time. 10 days to 6 weeks.” Uhh, thanks?
So I go to the trainer today. And by go to the trainer I mean drive 10 miles, realize I don’t have coins for parking, get there too early, sit in my car sweating because I don’t want to turn the air on because I am so low on gas, ask a passing meter checker lady if she can make change and get denied, and finally heading inside after I borrow money from the trainer. Continue reading “Griping and Rambling”
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”