Coach Coale’s been writing again and I only NOW find out about it? Catch up time!
The Write Space and Time: Aug. 3
For 20 days in July, college coaches get to evaluate. It always reminds me of Easter and the dead sprint for the most eggs — with your fingers crossed that you’ll stumble upon the golden one with the cash inside. We all run out, and about, and around desperately searching for our savior, the perfect missing puzzle piece, while the clock ticks mercilessly as we scour.
The Write Space and Time: Sept. 1
In the span of a mere 24-hour period, I moved my son into his college dorm, dropped my daughter off for her first day of high school, and found out Whitney Hand couldn’t play basketball for five more months. It didn’t surpass Nov. 26, 2003, (a.k.a. Black Tuesday) on the list of disconcerting landmarks, but I can say without reservation that I’ve lived through better days.
The Write Space and Time: Oct. 11
Our football team is undefeated, my Japanese maple trees have a few crimson leaves, and basketball practice is underway. Seriously, does it get any better than this?
The Write Space and Time: Nov. 3
The dog days of pre-season are over, the adrenaline kick of early practices has passed, and we’re just a day away from our one and only chance to make a first impression. Ready or not, on Thursday we go.
We’re a long way from being good right now, but I have to admit that this bunch has me. I like them. I like their hunger. I like their wide eyes. I like their diligence in little things. And I enjoy teaching them because they want to learn.
The Write Space and Time: Jan. 25
Just a couple of weeks ago I sat glued to ESPN, like most college women’s basketball fans, waiting to see if history would happen. UConn was at Stanford and college basketball’s longest trail of wins was in potential jeopardy. Early in the game as the broadcasters attempted to define the phenomenal Maya Moore’s game: they proclaimed her “the best catch and shoot player in the world.” And they reminded us often. “She’s the best catch and shoot player in the world! ” “In the world! In the world! In the world!” And the truth is: she very well may be. But I couldn’t help but laugh, thinking about the verbal gyrations we in sports go through sometimes to talk about ball. Why must everything be quantified? Why must a player or a play or a move be smothered in hyperbolic gibberish? Why can’t we just talk about what it is that makes it worth talking about instead of drowning the play or the player’s art form in gush?
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