11/3/2009 - Dayton 88, Ferris State 73
Falling out of touch with all myfriends are somewhere getting wasted,
hope they're staying glued together,
I have arms for them.
***
As you get older, it gradually gets easier and easier to let old affections die. It's rarely anything overblown or dramatic, as pop culture might wish you to believe. Old loves and crushes and friends and foes are hardly ever shotgunned to a million pieces in the mind's eye; they simply regress back to the mean and are more or less just... there.
This isn't news to anyone in the post-college crowd. Geography, carelessness, and the obliviously callous work of time make the dissolution of the things we once thought most important far too easy. Nobody likes to acknowledge their own neglect, which is why we ignore it until the process is virtually through so we can skip right ahead to ruing the result and our poor, poor luck.
It takes a certain kind of person or place or what-have-you that we consciously refuse to let leave our peripheral. Your fancies and focuses may waver, but those things are never far outside your sight. If you came back after all these months, I imagine the Flyers are that sort of passion for you.
For twenty-somethings like myself, this month is hardly ever about Thanksgiving itself and more about the night before. Many of us have long ago left our high school towns, and with the passage of time the extremes are the only things that remain. The very good and the very bad are still there, and the petty people and moments that wandered through in between are just that -- the dull, utterly meaningless in-between. And so you go back with those extremes in the forefront of your mind, equal parts excited and reluctant. You only hope the good is as good as you remembered it to make the whole venture worthwhile. And then something happens, whether it be an old friend walking in unexpectedly, a forgotten inside joke, or an picture-perfect alley-oop in transition -- thank you, Josh Benson -- and you remember why you came back in the first place. After changes upon changes, we are more or less the same.
Welcome back.
***
Before we get ahead of ourselves, let's get one thing out of the way: FERRIS. STATE. That's the team we just played. And thus, nothing of predictive worth can be gleaned. You hear me? I swear I'll rabbit punch the kidneys of the first person calling for Dan Fox to see more time. Not that I have anything against Dan Fox. Not in the least bit. But if a walk-on plays significant minutes in a game that matters -- and especially this season -- we're probably watching the flaming ruins of basketball Chernobyl.
That said, it was damn good to see the Flyers back out on the floor no matter the circumstances. After the long, uneventful offseason, they could have aired a feed of them playing NBA Live on PS3 and I'd have tuned in. You can mask an addiction with progress, but it only takes the smallest hit to whip you right back into the vortex.
That said, it was damn good to see the Flyers back out on the floor no matter the circumstances. After the long, uneventful offseason, they could have aired a feed of them playing NBA Live on PS3 and I'd have tuned in. You can mask an addiction with progress, but it only takes the smallest hit to whip you right back into the vortex.
***
Abbreviated bullets from a glorified pick-up game:
- This blog has been predicting a second-year breakout for Chris Johnson since it saw him in the Red & Blue scrimmage last year, so it was really wasn't a surprise to see the newly swole CJ get nice. His body should no longer prevent him from muscling into the lane on the offensive end, and it should only aid his already incredible instincts on the defensive end. Raw talent can get you about 75%, but conditioning and experience will often take you the rest of the way.
- And this is where we nominate Josh Benson to play the role of 2008-09 Chris Johnson. The mechanics need some major work but holy hell look at that paint job. Yes, his brain way ten steps ahead of his body for half the night. Yes, you can still watch him digest a Tic Tac. But JB Smoove is going to be absolutely freaknasty in one year's time. Book it.
- Another year of technology has raced past the WHIO production team. And that year is 1990. I'm done complaining about the lack of a scorebox in one of the four corners of the screen. If you're not going to give us that, for the love of everything holy DO NOT compound the problem by giving us full-screen updates WHILE THE GAME IS GOING ON. We missed several baskets and turnovers while staring at a rudimentary PowerPoint screen last night. They might as well have given us checkerboard slide transitions to complete the full seventh grade Social Studies report effect.
- Our Trillion Watch is off to a humdrum start, but Luke Hendrick came close with four minutes and only a solitary rebound. The prize for the most remarkable trillion this season: set of steak knives.
- We'll chalk this up to exhibition play being the laissez-faire business that it is, but you chuck one up from 30 feet again, Luke, and we're having some words in the parking lot. As friend of the blog Andy astutely pointed out, too often he resembles Phillip Seymour Hoffman in "Along Came Polly." RAIN DANCE!
- Yes, the free throw shooting. Again. As Samuel L. Jackson once said (to a dinosaur, I think), "Hold onto your butts."



