He was wearing a white v-neck under shirt with jeans and a black and white plaid newsboy cap. And he was standing there, in Best Buy, looking at some cell phone related product with a woman.
There is no reason I should have looked at a guy dressed like that with anything short of bemused disdain. But, he looked familiar. Incredibly familiar. And yet, I couldn’t place the face.
It took a few more minutes for me to unravel the mystery. The guy wearing an undershirt and dopey hat in public is my doctor.
MY DOCTOR IS A HIPSTER!!!!
But he’s such a good doctor. He asks good questions when I go for checkups. He seems interested in what I have to say. He doesn’t dismiss my stupid self diagnoses (“I’m pretty sure it’s not an aneuryism. You wouldn’t be able to stand up straight if it was. I think you probably just have sunburn.”)
It’s just so jarring. I did not see this coming.
When I was in 7th grade, I once saw my music teacher at the mall. It was around the holidays and he was working at the Disney Store. He walked out as I was walking in and it took a minute for his face to register. Why is my teacher wearing a denim shirt with embroidered Disney characters? Why does his name tag say Billy when I know his first name is Joe? Does he have a little thing going with that high school girl co-worker he seems to be flirting with? Should I buy something from him? What am I doing in the Disney Store?
Twenty years later, I still can’t wrap my head around it.
So, the NHL lockout has it’s first victim. MY BRAIN. Michael Farber needs something to do, so Sports Illustrated decided to let him bring his tortured puns over to the NBA beat, in order to write a Scorecard column about the NBA’s decision to legislate flopping. Turns out, this NBA story is all about former Montreal Canadian and New Jersey Devil Claude Lemeiux.
Worldly Series by Albert Chen
Chen writes about the influx of talent from less than traditional international feeding grounds which are contributing in this year’s MLB postseason. One of those players is Aroldis Chapman. He is the ONLY reason I was rooting for the Reds to beat the Giants. In fact, he’s the only reason I was even a little bit interested in that series. I find him endlessly fascinating. He throws 105! Oh well, maybe next year.
Lost Boys of Troy by Austin Murphy
Murphy catches up with the offensive stars of the 2005 USC Trojans, who are now pretty much all has beens or never weres. I LOVE this article. Think back to that 2006 Rose Bowl between Texas and USC. That game was supposed to feature all the great NFL stars of the next decade. Matt Leinart, Reggie Bush, Lendale White, Vince Young! Hindsight is 20/20
The Curious Case of Philip Rivers by Jim Trotter
At this point, it’s a cliche to point out how much everyone else hates it when someone talks about their fantasy football team. But, Philip Rivers always somehow ends up on my fantasy football team. I don’t like him, but I always end up drafting him anyway. In the past, I’ve taken him to be my starter, then ended up playing someone else for half the season anyway. This year, I drafted Cam Newton and ended up with Philip Rivers late in the draft. Now, Rivers is going to be my starter. DOES ANYONE CARE ABOUT THIS?
Solich’s School For Boise by Lars Anderson
Frank Solich is trying to turn Ohio University into the next Boise State. He was Mickey Tettleton’s son to help him. Ok.
Hoops Comes Home by Rick Telander
Rick Telander is one of the great writers I’ve ever read in my life. Everything he does is great. This article, about Brooklyn’s basketball roots and basketball’s Brooklyn roots, is no different.
Now, let’s talk about Brooklyn. I’ve lived in Manhattan for 10 years now and, in that time, I have gone to Brooklyn a grand total of no times. This is rather shocking to most people, since that time period mirrors pretty closely with the boro’s cool person renaissance. To be clear, I’m not anti-Brooklyn. I just haven’t gone. It may have something to do with the fact that I spent plenty of time there as a kid. My dad is from Brooklyn. My Grandmother lived there until I was 13.
I remember my father driving up to his childhood apartment and telling us, “So, this is where we lived. Wait, wait, wait.. I didn’t say anything about getting out of the car. Close the door and lock it. We’re getting out of here.”
So, that’s what Brooklyn means to me.
I’ll probably go to some Nets games though.
Point After by Brandon McCarthy
I like following Brandon McCarthy on Twitter. And this proves that he can write in more than 140 characters without losing his charm. I’m glad his brain didn’t explode when that ball hit him in the head.