100 Guns, 100 Clips, My Trip To New York
My final thoughts on New York.
Well it’s been a long time; I shouldn’t have left you, without a strong column to read through. Think of how many week tweets you slept through, time’s up; I’m sorry I’ve kept you.
Now in the past I’ve used this short week (between spring break and leaving for the NCAA tournament) to get lazy and just post my bracket on back page. This year, however, someone else (Jacob) has decided that I should actually write a column this week because I made the harrowing journey out to New York over break.
So here I am, a mere six hours before my fantasy baseball draft, typing instead of preparing. Fantasy baseball is serious business, you guys. I need to make sure “Dropped Balls” gets off to a good start in the draft.
My trip to New York actually involved more time in Greenwich, Conn. than anywhere else. Greenwich is much like New York, if you replaced all of the cool things and rap songs written about the city with rich, old people and mansions. I’m sure Drake has a house there.
From Connecticut, we (my dad and brother tagged along) would take the hour-long train ride into Grand Central Station. From there it was a quick walk/two subway stations to Madison Square Garden, the “World’s Most Famous Arena.” Famous it may be, but that won’t stop New York from tearing it down as soon as the lease is up.
Get ready for new Penn Station, kiddos.
Traveling with the Y-chromosome carrying half of my immediate family had its perks, but there were also a few obstacles. My brother insisted on blending in with the Big Apple’s diverse homeless population, while I tried my best to serve as my dad’s GPS.
Overall, though, I’m sure they had a good time. They got to watch the entire Big East Tournament (not with me, of course, but with the rest of the peasants) and visit New York’s greatest tourist attraction, Rucker Park.
Now people keep asking me to speak about the Rucker, and matter of fact, I’m about to speak about the Rucker. While I would love to tell you guys that I went to the court and balled outrageous, it’s not the truth. The only people playing when we got there were three elementary-school kids, and I didn’t want to be that guy.
As for the people who were actually in New York to play basketball, their weekend could best be categorized as, “meh.” Admittedly, I did not expect them to win the tournament before I left for New York. Once Villanova was ousted, though, it seemed like Creighton was a lock for a championship and a possible 2-seed.
Unfortunately, Creighton played like hot garbage in the championship game. I’ve long said that all Creighton losses look the same, and they all look like Saturday night. Missed shots and early deficits have been Creighton’s Kryptonite all season.
It didn’t help that they were launching threes instead of getting to the line, but play to the percentages, I guess.
There were a few students upset with my tweeting during that game, but, like Lupe Fiasco’s interpretation of Slim Thug, I write what I see. And to address one specific comment, I do have school spirit. It’s track 15 on “The College Dropout.” A great song, but Chaka Khan wouldn’t let the explicit version hit stores. C’mon Chaka, get with the times.
The highlight of the weekend, besides Doug and Jahenns making DePaul ante up on Thursday, was 50 Cent showing up in the crowd. The Madison Square Garden music guy, who does an excellent job, played “What up, Gangsta?” (a very underrated song on “Get Rich or Die Tryin’”) while 50 waived on the jumbotron.
I’m sure he was just there to watch St. John’s, but I like to think he was captivated by his 3-Unit counterpart.
Unfortunately there are no famous rappers from San Antonio. I’ll be there this weekend, though, so stay tuned for some coverage from Charles Barkley’s favorite city for meeting women.