04 December 2010
I think there is a part of me that has an aversion to capitol cities. I never went to Harrisburg when I lived in Pennsylvania. I never went to Albany when I lived in New York. It took a bit of cajoling to get me to Bismarck, though I did go. I never went to Carson City when I lived in Nevada. And it took more than two years in San Francisco for me to hit the road and head to Sacramento. And I only went because Melissa the Producer had tickets to a basketball game.
It was my first drive to see her. It was my first NBA game. It was exciting. We ate the usually stadium food and had the usual, better-than-good seats. I learned that the Sacramento Kings' mascot is a lion, though I did not learn why. And if you were to secretly call them the Sacramento Kings of the Jungle, you would not be alone. Just saying.
If you've been to a basketball game, I have nothing new to tell you. There were fans. There were points. There was disappointment. There was a nice dance show put on by dozens of little kids. We sat behind a loud and unfunny heckler. We got boom sticks that didn't do much but make a mess. We took our sports-outing-of-the-month picture. We laughed.
Dancing Kids.
Us.
I really like this picture.
Basketball.
At the end of the game Tyreke Evans (I'm almost sure it was him) threw his sweaty headband into our area. I found that to be disgusting. Alas, I was alone. People were excited. Melissa (thank goodness) didn't touch it, but she took a picture. We ended up encouraging these drunk guys to take it, only to feel crappy moments later when a kid came over looking for it. I still don't see the appeal. But I know very little about basketball.
It was my first drive to see her. It was my first NBA game. It was exciting. We ate the usually stadium food and had the usual, better-than-good seats. I learned that the Sacramento Kings' mascot is a lion, though I did not learn why. And if you were to secretly call them the Sacramento Kings of the Jungle, you would not be alone. Just saying.If you've been to a basketball game, I have nothing new to tell you. There were fans. There were points. There was disappointment. There was a nice dance show put on by dozens of little kids. We sat behind a loud and unfunny heckler. We got boom sticks that didn't do much but make a mess. We took our sports-outing-of-the-month picture. We laughed.
Dancing Kids.
Us.
I really like this picture.
Basketball.
At the end of the game Tyreke Evans (I'm almost sure it was him) threw his sweaty headband into our area. I found that to be disgusting. Alas, I was alone. People were excited. Melissa (thank goodness) didn't touch it, but she took a picture. We ended up encouraging these drunk guys to take it, only to feel crappy moments later when a kid came over looking for it. I still don't see the appeal. But I know very little about basketball.
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