mindoverchatter.com

When you can score under 15 on Flash Fabrica, my budding guru friends, I might listen to what you have to say.  Follow this link and prepare yourself for mind fun:  http://flashfabrica.com/f_learning/brain/brain.html

I just got back from Memphis, my old home town and residing place of my 3 sisters, 1 brother, 2 parents, 15 cousins etc.  It was a good trip down to Beale Street and the Forum where I was privileged to watch the Memphis Tigers (as in BBall Tigers) beat an underestimated Arkansas team.

Tigers were supposed to win hands down, and everyone would have been mortified if they hadn’t.  For about 20 minutes, I thought we were going to be severely mortified.  Tigers got off to a slower than slow start, only shooting 22% from the field.

Then Chris, my brother and I went to Ground Zero and listened to the house band.  House bands rock in Memphis!

My sister Sallie and her friend, Ed, ballroomed danced their way all over the big-ass wooden floor to the Blues, no less.

Sallie is a great dancer!  Her partner, Ed, is pretty good too—but he hates ‘wiggle dancers’ with a passion and it shows.  ‘Wiggle dancers’ are the kind that don’t do any prescribed steps—one move per beat is all that Ballrooom Ed will allow.

I guess you know where that puts me and thee—–In the Wiggle Dancer Category and proud of it!

Consider this to be a personal message from the Guru—-Wiggle dance your way through life, folks!  You’ll go further and faster and have more fun.

Answers and dance steps are just not accessible in the prescribed locations at one move per beat.

Some are dicks like SCROTIE: Who would’ve thought that a large, cheering prick complete with testicles could drum up such excitement at sporting events?  Students at RISD (Rhode Island School of Design), that’s who.  They absolutely adore their Scrotie, most specifically for the riproarious amount of shame and disgust he brings to the hallowed fields and halls. Sad to say, he’s looking a bit flaccid in the picture, but not all mascots are created equal.

Some are kegs like Keggy: Though never approved by the higher-ups of Dartmouth University, Keggy definitely has the approval of the fans in Hanover, NH. According to those in the know, this grinning escapee from the merry ole land of Oz was the #1 fan at all things Dartmouth and has proven himself a worthy fellow, as far as wins are concerned that is.

And then there’s the fine feathered creatures like Hawk-man:  Students at St. Joe’s have plenty of incentive to be the mascot for basketball games, because doing so waives all tuition fees.  How about this for a catch?  The poor bastard has to flap his arms for the entire 40 minutes of the game. If you think that’s easy, try it for 5.

Hawks, Dicks and Kegs aside, I think I'll stick with my beloved Bengal Tiger---as in Memphis Tigers.  Tom number two passed away last year in October at the age of 17. It was very sad.  Tom the third is now our reigning king.

I am told that Tom III attends football games, but the confines and excitement of a basketball court would be a bit much. Think about it from a predator’s perspective. Having to watch all that prey running by without giving chase would be excruciating. That’s why we have Pouncer, our fine student mascot.

HISTORY OF TOM and POUNCERRRRRR (thanks to the Memphis Tigers Official site)

When the University of Memphis first fielded a football team in the fall of 1912, there was no nickname for the boys.

Some folks called them by their uniform colors: the Blue and Gray Warriors of West Tennessee Normal School. Blue and Gray, by the way, was supposed to unite the Yankees and the Southerners. In any case, after the final game of the 1914 season, there was a student parade. During this event, you could hear students shouting, “We fight like Tigers.” Hence,the nickname was born.

“Tigers” was only used in campus publications, though. The newspapers downtown kept calling them the “Normals” or the “Blue and Gray”. How boring was that!

Under Coach Lester Barnard in 1922, Normal’s football team provided a ring of truth to that old student Tiger yell about their fighting proficiency. The team even adopted a motto - “Every Man a Tiger” - and, therefore, went on to score 174 points while allowing the opposition a measly 29.

In the late 1920s, student publications and downtown newspapers, for some strange reason, began referring to the Memphis football team as the “Teachers” or “Tutors.” (And we thought Normal was boring.) The ‘Tiger’ nickname would not return until 1939, when a Bengal Tiger was finally adopted as the official mascot.

Go Tigers!

Yesterday’s Mount Shasta wore a mutable cloud necklace.  A sight so fine should have launched me into a blog about the unbearable lightness of being, but it didn’t.  All that stuff takes a back seat this time of year.

No offense, folks, but natural beauty can’t compete with men’s college hoops.  And while I’m at it, screw those NFL Wildcard playoffs too!  Why can we have more college hoops on tube?  That’s what I want to know.

Soon to be President, Barack Obama (nicknamed ‘Barry Obama’ for his tendency to bury three-pointers) and his newly formed B Ball Cabinet need to take care of this problem right away.  Follow the links to find out just how much Obama really is into Basketball.  It’s a first for any U.S. President and about time too.

Oh well, back to yesterday. At 9 A.M. Pacific Time, I got glued to the couch watching #10 Notre Dame fall to St. John’s and #18 Tenn lose to Kansas and the rest of the day was history. (Screw those rankings, by the way.)

My unranked Memphis Tigers played unranked Lamar. Pregame nerves began the night before—little stomach clumps—you know, the kind that accompany all Memphis free throws.

Sometimes I wonder if being a F A N is worth what I go through.  No need to lie. That game for the National College Championship…you know…the one where Dorsey fouled out on a cheap call, the one where Coach Cal didn’t call a time-out, the one where the referee didn’t call the last foul, the one where Derrick Rose ate too much candy, the one where we missed the free throws, the one where a miraculous three-pointer cost us the game. (Memphis vs. Kansas) Yea, that one. Well it left a bad taste. Life was barely worth living after that.

CDR to the hole

Plus that was the last time we saw three of our Greats:  Chris Douglas-Roberts (the fearless go-to guy), Joey Dorsey (the fearless muscle) and Derrick Rose (the fearless inspiration).

Rose turned into such a beautiful point guard, and it was before our very eyes. Sometimes I watch the Chicago Bulls just to get another look at the boy.  I swear he still has that unfettered innocence and grace with which he left.  Chicago, you best be kind to Kid Rose.  Even Memphis Head Coach John Calipari called timeouts just to invoke the young dude’s blessing.

“Derrick is one of the greatest players I’ve ever coached,” he said, “but of even more importance, he is one of the greatest teammates I’ve been around.”

Back to this season:  At least the University of Memphis finally has a point guard—Tyreke Evans. It has been a difficult search, and as one gnarly bastard announcer put it, “if you have four point guards you don’t have any”.

Yo, gnarly bastard, it’s not for want of trying! Our Desperately Seeking Derrick Coach Calipari tried Willie Kemp, Antonio Anderson and Wesley Witherspoon before settling on Evans at the point.  Calipari’s thinking was this:  Tyreke tends to get penalized for running over the opposition, so now he has more room to move about before he encounters any—opposition, that is.

(I apologize to all who haven’t the vaguest idea what I’m talking about, but there’s no stopping a Fan.)

After Derrick Rose it’s hard to get excited about anybody else running the point. Like I said, he was only at Memphis for a year—a one and out, it’s called-–but I bonded with that kid.  Rose oozed the temperament of an evolved Tibetan Llama:  Lovable, unselfish, joyful—plus he was hooked on starbursts, gummy bears and pineapple syrup.  Everybody knows those reincarnated llamas are suckers for candy.

Sigh. Sigh. Double sigh. I miss Derrick Rose. His only Achilles heal was his stomach.

Before the national championship game, teammate Robert Dozier commented on Rose: “He didn’t eat last night or this morning. We’ve been having problems with him, making him eat all this year, so it’s nothing major to worry about. He just eats candy and pineapple and syrup. He never really eats real food..he eats like he’s eight. He needs (a food pyramid). Someone needs to put one up in his room.”

Here he is, folks, Derrick Rose #13 at the top of the food pyramid. It’s hard to criticize him from our vantage point.  And check out those hands in the second pic—all that chi and energy pouring forth.  Can you feel it?

Men like Derrick Rose come along maybe only once in a lifetime. When they leave, they take your heart with them—for awhile, at least.

And then men like Evans, Dozier, Mack, Taggart and Antonio Anderson put it back where it belongs…in Memphis with the Tigers:  Last night’s game, which Chris and I listened to on the internet radio, was history-making.

Houston, we have liftoff! Memphis 108, Lamar 75

Liftoff in the form of our new point guard  Tyreke Evans, who went 11 of 16 from the field and scored 25 points (only one turnover); liftoff in the form of Robert Dozier who finished with 19 points, and Shawn Taggart who scored 15 points, and Doneal Mack who had 14.

And lest we forget…Liftoff in the form of Antonio Anderson: ‘Tone’ became the second Memphis player in history to record a triple-double.  The first was Anfernee Hardaway (1993).

That’s big ‘Tone’!