Some days are better than others

Yesterday as the final post was posting I was off, ironically, playing basketball.

Playing with one close friend from growing up...Kyle...and one with whom I have been friends since his birth. He is much younger than the rest of us.

So I got home from work...and it was a rather unpleasant work day...made a light dinner, and then made a cake.

See, one of my great joys in life (get ready to drop me 17 points on the pathetic-o-meter) is to have dessert after any given meal. It can be Cold Stone as it was the other evening with Riot Kitty and Mr. Riot Kitty...it can be brownies as I make about every other week...it can be candy bars...ice cream...I simply crave something sweet.

On a completely unrelated note, I am overweight.

But tonight I felt like making cake for no apparent reason. White cake with chocolate fudge frosting.

Then went to the game while it cooled down.

My history with this league has been poor. In one attempt a few years ago, Kyle and I were on a team that won our league. That followed two seasons where we won 2 or 3 games out of 7 and lost the rest, most by big margins.

It was the next season (many short seasons...7 games each) when I shattered my athletic career, ripping apart the tendon that runs from the ball to the heel of the foot. Ever since then I have struggled with fasciitis. It can come on at any given moment.

I once organized a co-ed team that our closest game was 20 points. And we lost every game.

2 seasons ago we lost our first 5. Our first lead in any game at any point...including the first basket of the game...did not come until game 5.

In other words, most of our teams have been bad. Real bad. Clipper bad.

The first game of this season we won by just 12 but led by 20 for much of the game. And I began to get an inkling.

Tonight we were in a real war for about 10 minutes. After 5 minutes the score was 6-6. After 10 minutes it was 12-9. It was tough, rugged, close.

I looked at Collin and said, "The first team to string together two or three baskets is going to win."

Prophetic. In the next 15 minutes we scored about 30 points. They scored about 14.

And it was over. We were running at will, scoring whenever we wanted, and at the other end two or three guys at a time were blocking the same shot.

We were not just better than them...we did to them what has been done to us.

We wrecked them.

They were complaining we were in the wrong league.

Possible true...they actually had the talent to compete with us, they just do not use it right when the game breaks down. Once they stopped running their plays and just started going one on one it became almost impossible for them to score.

Here is the weird thing.

I, Darth Weasel, the guy who LOVES to win, felt bad.

I felt bad for annihilating them.

But worse...I felt bad because I am no longer good enough to play on either team...the one that won or the one that lost. I cannot jump, move my feet, or run.

So now...ironically, after a blowout win...I feel like I do not belong.

On a team that was my brainchild.

You really cannot comprehend how depressing that is to me.

Seriously.

This is not a level, not a joke, not an understatement.

But it is pathetic.

Which reminds me...I am going to go enjoy some cake.

And maybe watch Despicable Me.