I was at a work training in California all last week. 10 hours a day in a windowless room, no cell service outside of wifi (which is only worth noting because none of my roommates have iPhones), and exclusively healthy lunches, which was maybe the most deflating thing about the whole ordeal, and that’s counting the nightly homework assignments. It was like college, except I actually had to pay attention.
And there in lies the problem.
As I spent every moment ignoring the urge to type in anything in my browser search bar, fighting my very prevalent, undiagnosed, A.D.D. I missed out on some good sports stories.
The biggest of which, of course, is the US Woman’s National Team winning yet another World Cup Title.
The only World Cup that matters, in my opinion.
Unfortunately, the trainee’s from the Paris, France office didn’t see eye to eye with me on this opinion. I think they would have, had they put their cigarette’s down for a second. Their smoke created a level of visibility similar to Bejing, China, which definitely effected this.
So that’s kind of on them.
All in all, congrats to all these women who somehow made partying with them look more difficult than playing against them.
Next was the blockbuster trade between the Houston Rockets and the Oklahoma City Thunder. Chris Paul for Russell Westbrook. A trade that I think is completely overblown, by the way. I think of the Houston Rockets as the inverse of the New England Patriots.
With the Pats, I will always pick them to represent the AFC in the Super Bowl because of their consistency. They do it every year. Until they give me a reason not to pick them, they will always be my choice. With Houston, I do not care what waves they make in the offseason. Until they give me a reason to believe that they can actually make it to the Finals, I will always pick them to lose early in the playoffs.
Plain and simple.
And I know the storyline around Westbrook’s past history with James Harden, and how “things will be different this time,” but give me a break.
I view these as two friends from the past who haven’t realized they’ve changed over the course of their separation. For example, when I was a kid, I had a friend move away to Arizona. We were best friends, sleepovers all the time (which consisted of me watching him play Super Mario 64 all night), we made pillow forts, laughed at fart jokes. It was the best.
Then after a year I went to visit him and things were different. Fart jokes didn’t move the needle anymore, pillow forts were childish, and he actually wanted to include me in video games now.
What an asshole.
That’s where Harden and Westbrook are right now, but don’t even know it. Just two friends who don’t laugh at fart jokes anymore.
I’d wish them the best of luck this year, but I personally don’t like either player, and can’t wait to watch them lose in the second round of the playoffs again.
Lastly, I guess, was some 15 year old who won a few matches at Wimbledon.
Pretty cool stuff, truth be told. But considering I could only watch a few points each morning while dining on the always inappropriatly named “continental breakfast,” at the Hyatt I stayed in, the story really never meant that much to me.
So good for her.
Oh, and the MLB All Star game happened. But only a very select few actually care about that.
I’ll try to make sure these misses don’t happen again. I can’t imagine if my lack of activity made my Instagram followers fall from 162 to 159.
The grind never stops. Unless you’re at work training.