I don't care if the above photo is a stock photo. It's hard to care today. On a bright Los Angeles day that triumphs lovely triumph, Nick's intrepidly goofy reunion (that's a compliment Mister), and sweet sweet weather that feels like a caress, the wonderful day has been undermined. There's no basketball on today. There isn't any on tomorrow either, unless you count Cleveland-Boston as an extension of sport. On a visual level alone it resembles a bland hunting trip much more than professional athletics. The entire lot of Celtics and Cavaliers wander around, waiting for something to happen, longing to draw their guns. In crunch time of yesterday's game I saw Glen "Big Baby" Davis hit the bottom of the rim with a lay up. He is 6'9.
It is safe to assume that his reach is at least 9 feet. He couldn't throw a basketball a foot.
No Chris Paul (CAPTAIN PARAGON!), no Manu flops, no watching David West and commenting on his collection of designer heels.
For every woman David West sleeps with, he buys a pair of designer stilettos. They are a gift for her but can never be given to her. They are steeped in her essence, overcome with her being. He smells, touches, and occasionally tastes the shoes. Every pump a monument to lost love, a reminder to Mr. West that he promised mother he would shop around. (Mrs. West was a big Smokey Robinson fan).
It's hard for a hopeless romantic. On the nights of these trysts, David West has considered every woman the one. They fell aslumber, man and wife for all time.
They're gone when he wakes. They may have deserted him but they deserve to be remembered. If only by the shoes. David West crawls out of bed and logs onto Yahoo shopping. He peruses the selection until finding the right shoe for her. He gets it shipped next day air.
He sometimes cries when opening the shoes. The box and paper are just like their outfits. He feels a pang of hurt undressing them, forever making them like their inspirations. After analyzing the shoes, getting what they're all about, David West puts the shoes in his "Hall of Ladies".
"The Hall of Ladies" is a shrine of 350 pairs of Gucci Pumps and Armani Pumps (I like using the word pump this morning). Late at night, with loneliness nipping at his toes, David West goes in his "Hall of Ladies" and remembers each and every woman. The tears last until morning.
After the shoot around today, the Hornets are planning a team activity, a camaraderie inducing spectacle. As they walk out of practice Tyson Chandler (he of the long limbs and same genes as Tayshaun Prince) asks "Boy, you excited?"
David West stops and ponders. "I don't think I'll ever be excited again."
Game 7 Prediction: David West will be benched for showing up late to the shootaround in drag. When asked why he will simply state "My urge to rebound is fueled by love alone."
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