Champions

Anyone who knows me in person knows there are only a few things that get my emotions riled up: good food, injustice, and the Los Angeles Lakers.

I mean, there are other things, but rarely do I express my sheer joy or frustration openly and honestly except when confronted with those issues.

In any case, we'll broach injustice and food some other day.

The Lakers repeated as NBA champions tonight. Against the Celtics. If you're a student of the game, then you understand how much more a championship against Boston means to an L.A. die-hard. We've only beaten them twice (now three times) in league history. It's two juggernauts pushing against each other, the whole immovable object vs. unstoppable force debate. Except, for the longest time, the Lakers were a pretty movable object.

That's why Magic Johnson will always be my favorite Laker. He was the first to topple the mighty Boston. The only Lakers' memorabilia I've ever owned was a hand-me-down t-shirt from 1988 that had caricatures of the entire team, with the words "Back-To-Back" written on it. I wore that baby until it was see-through.

See what I mean about passion? I didn't intend to write any of that, it just all vomited out there in the moment.

There is a point to this madness. And here it is:

Thanks, Grandpa.

He introduced me to the Lakers. He would watch the games on our TV in my old house, growing up. It was the late 80's, and I would do homework while watching the game. I had no idea what basketball was at the time, other than the ball had to go in the hoop to make points (or so I learned on the elementary school blacktop).

But Grandpa Lancelot, just by watching those games, made me a student of the game. Or more specifically, the Lakers. I don't profess to understand half the strategies and tactics used in any sport. But I do know the Laker greats. I do know the Boston rivalry. And I do know what a championship like tonight's means for the city of my birth.

Well, other than the broken taxicab windows and the sheriff's deputies decked in riot gear.

Every time the Lakers win, I think of Lancelot. He lived to be 100 years old. I don't know how big a fan he was at the end, but I'm pretty sure he would have been happy to see LA bring home yet another title.

Must... press... onward...

Two weeks since my last post, I feel the strain of time and procrastination and forgetfulness and a spasming knee pulling me away from this new endeavor.

But I refuse to give up. This is not P90X. This is not "not smoking." This is something very simple that I should be able to contribute to on a consistent basis.

You know what I like? McDonald's Hot Mustard. It's not too sweet like honey mustard, and it's got just enough bite to keep you wanting more. Coated on a freshly deep-fried Chicken McNugget, there's not much better in the world at MST (Munchies Standard Time).

You know what I like? Bloggers who don't sound like commercials.

Question to self: I have a friend, an Asian woman, who told me she finds it offensive when her other friend says "yap yap yap yap" at her like Chun Li in the Street Fighter games. Overboard, or overly sensitive? I tend to think the former.

Obligatory First Post

I have 4 blogs/blournals now online, that I can think of. One is a Quote of the Day, another is something I started in college and early in my career, the third was a secret one I created just to work on my passion for writing.

All are now defunct.

I don't know what I'm going to do with this one. I suspect it will eventually fall along the same lines as the demised. But for now, I'm going to do what I do best.

I like to think of myself as a "closet non-conformist." I'd also like to think I came up with the term (several years ago, in fact). But given the billions of people who came before me, I doubt it.

I even Googled the term and found several sites where people have come to the same conclusion about themselves. One had this quote:

"Be regular and orderly in your life,
so that you may be violent and original in your work." -- Gustave Flaubert

Love it. That's me.