I did get to play after all. And, though we played poorly and got our asses kicked, I was gratified to realize that I could participate without bringing my team or my lungs down. I even made a basket, which is pretty remarkable considering how little I've been able to play since the summer, first because of my fall teaching schedule and then, once classes were over, because of the flu and its month-long aftermath. I'm looking forward to playing again in two weeks. The whole experience brought back memories of my grad-school days playing in Hearst Gym.
When I got home, Skylar was delighted to see me in my low-budget uniform and expressed interest in going to watch a game sometime. I made two of Trader Joe's new mascarpone, artichoke, and mushroom pizzas for me and Kim and was pleased to find them better than expected. Then I plopped my tired body down to watch the UCLA-Oregon game and monitor the Cal score on my laptop, anxiously waiting for the Bears to blow their single-digit lead. But guess what? They didn't. Now they have victories against both of the Pac-10's ranked teams on their resumé and all is briefly right in my world.
