September 1, 2020
Today was the
first of two days off in a row for me.
There will no longer be any double header responsibilities any more as
the schedule doesn’t require any crew to work two games in one day moving
forward. Everyone had been working so
much lately that the remaining format until the conclusion of our time here
will be greatly appreciated. Although it
might seem easy to coast the rest of the way to the finish line, the games ahead
will be more intense, the level of play higher, and more eyes will be glued to
the screen.
While working out
this morning there something had been bugging me for a long time. There was this one guy either always there
when I was there, or leaving when I arrived or coming as I was leaving. He was tall, about six feet ten inches, very
thin, and his body was marked with an enormous amount of tattoos. But something made me think that I had seen
him somewhere before. Anyway, only the
two of us were working out and we spoke about all the new restrictions in the
fitness center and I made a valiant but failed attempt to get a look at his
credential so I could find out his name.
I know, I know, I should have simply introduced myself but we had been
working out collectively for such a long time that it seemed out of place to do
so. Anyway he completed his workout by
putting his credential back on, but it was backwards and I couldn’t read the
name! He left the room and I remained alone to finish my routine, but I kept
trying to figure out who the hell this guy was because I knew I had seen him
before.
I made my usual
trek after the gym across the bridge, past the restaurant, towards the dining
center. Several members of the Boston
Celtics were walking towards the restaurant, fresh off their win over the
Raptors the previous night taking a two to nothing lead in that second round
matchup. Trailing behind them was my
buddy from the gym. I could see his
credential being worn properly in the distance and now was my opportunity to discover
his name and end the constant pressure I was putting on my memory bank.
Cherokee
Parks. It was Cherokee Parks, who won an
NCAA title as a freshman with the Duke Blue Devils. He played nine years in the NBA and was now a
liaison for the NBA. I knew I had seen
him before but he did not look like the Cherokee Parks I remembered. The current Cherokee is much lighter and does
not have the shaggy haircut he wore at Duke.
Plus, I don’t remember so many damn tattoos, but at least I have taken
the pressure off my constant desire to solve my own mental problems.
I grabbed a cold
drink from the dining center, dodging a few small children here and there. I am pretty sure this was not the Disney
vacation they had envisioned. Taking the
reverse route back to my room across the bridge, past the restaurant, LeBron
and AD were coming at my direction after they finished a late breakfast. The
two are always together, or so it seems.
Wouldn’t it be great to be able to listen in to their conversation as
they walk together? I got a nod from
them both as I walked past.
In Casita 4 there
is a tenant that has emblazoned his door daily with a note of positive
thought. Each day he adds to the sticky
notes that are placed in the shape of heart on his entryway. I stopped to read what had been posted and
each message was different than the rest.
I counted them all and the number exceeded fifty so my guess is that
each note of encouragement represents the number of days he or she has been
here in the bubble. I don’t know who is
inside the room as I was not bold enough to stare inside the open window to
quench my desire of solving that mystery.
However, the notes were fun to read.
Some I had read before, like “Don’t sweat the small stuff, it’s all
small stuff,” things like that. Others
were new to me and I read all of them. I
am going to meander over there every so often to read the new additions.
A couple of the
guys I work with wanted to have a prayer meeting at 3:00pm over near where we
eat. There is a media lounge set up and
asked any of the Turner green guys to participate, no pressure whatsoever. I need to disclose now that I am not a
religious person, although I think overall I am a pretty decent human being,
and if there is a heaven, I should get a green light depending on who you speak
with regarding their interpretation of the qualifications. Anyway, after everything that occurred with
the stoppage of play a week ago and the message of empathy and walking in the
shoes of others, I decided I would attend and participate with my guys. It was an eye opener.
At first I did
not know what to expect but I was hearing some extremely personal individual
confessions and admissions that I didn’t expect. It would be very unfair and wrong for me to
share on this platform what was discussed confidentially amongst us but I was a
bit shocked and even more so uncomfortable.
Men aren’t that great with sharing their feelings but that meeting was
completely opposite of that belief.
Perhaps the fact that we had been cooped up for such a long time
contributed to the free expression of thoughts and feelings but each one of us
opened up about issues that were troubling us.
I learned a ton about some guys that I have known for thirty years and
some for as few as three or four. This
was by far the deepest, most meaningful two hours of conversation I had
encountered since being admitted here and I was a bit exhausted once it
concluded with a group prayer. I appreciated that all in attendance were able
to share at the level they did, but I do not want this to become a regular
thing. Some things, I just don’t want to
know, at least not in a group setting.
But that’s just me.
The rest of the
day was pretty much like any other, concluding with a twilight game of whiffle
ball and a dinner at dusk. We watched the ESPN broadcast of the Nuggets taking
on the Jazz as Utah was eliminated in a thrilling game seven. With Donavan Mitchell leaving in the morning,
I can kiss those shoes goodbye.
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