Rid's Kids

So lately I've been taking impromptu nighttime naps. I'm not planning these naps. They just happen and it's messing up my sleep schedule. And they're not the most comfortable naps either--they're kind where you wake up draped awkwardly on the couch and your neck has a hangover.

Now these have been happening mostly during the 6:00pm or 7:30pm NBA playoff games. And three times in the past week I've drifted off with my team ahead by double digits, only to wake up in the last minute or two of the game with my team barely holding a lead. Like the Mavs in Game 5. All of a sudden I wake up, have no clue what's going on, but T-Mac is shooting a freethrow, down 3 points, with 7 seconds to go. Tonight, I wake up with 45 seconds left to see Seattle win by 4. Somehow, my internal clock must be able to judge potential game-winning Sportscenter top plays and wake me up to watch them.


Also, let's give it up for my boy Rid today. Nice 18-foot jump shots off the dribble, nice assists, and what about the harlem globetrotters steal behind the back no look pass. That's my boy, Rid! And yes, "my boy", and not just because he was a duck too. I saw him at a party once, AND I talked to him once in a Business minor class. He missed the first day of class, and sat next to me on the second day in the back corner. The material sounded harder than it was (especially if you missed the first class) and at the 10 minute class break, Rid said to me "F*** this" and left. He never came back to class. He just walked out. We could have been friends. Could have been study buddies.

After we became best friends, he would have asked me if I thought he should leave college a year early for the draft. I would have supported his decision. And although I would stay my last year to get my degree, I would have moved in with him in Seattle after I graduated. I would have been the white guy in the third row at Key Arena wearing the baby blue Fubu track suit, not paying attention to half the game because I'm two-waying Sir Mix a Lot and Chopper from DaBand on my Tmobile Sidekick. Oh what? Hell yeah, we know Chopper. And we know Dylan too, but he's got a 'tude. That kid is just trouble, man.

I could have been a part of someone's Posse. Rid's posse-- Rid's Kids (that's what we would have called ourselves). Me, Nate Jolly, and Ben Lindquist--Rid's Kids.