Top Gun

I was up in Oregon this past week for my daughter’s basketball tournament. Instead of whining about how I never traveled anywhere when I played hoops, I’ll take the high road and bore the hell out of you with the trip details.

I flew up with the parents of one of my kid’s teammates. The other dad and I split the rental on an SUV, at least that’s what I told him. I was Goose to his Maverick. His driving prowess and my navigational skills combined to get us all safely and on time to all the games and our five daily meals. Apparently our reputation preceded us because we led the caravan, which included Iceman’s H3. The Love Boat’s Julie The Cruise Director was also part of our wagon train on The Oregon Trail

The first game was against one of the tournament’s best teams. Our girls played a good game but the opponents were just too fast and strong. The other side seemed to have good coaching but I think my ears were playing tricks on me. I thought the coach was exhorting his players with cries of “Matzoh! Matzoh!” and “Sippy Cup!” I finally went to get glasses last year so I guess a hearing aid is next. However, I was able to clearly hear one of the other coaches the following day. He tended not to change things up too much. When his team was on offense, he rasped “Swing It”. On defense it was “Deny”. Was it real or was it Memorex? This guy’s voice was completely shot. Maybe he was a heavy metal singer in his younger days.

My bud The Banker was also on this trip. His daughter plays for another team and we caught one of their contests along with some other games. The main venue was crawling with college coaches. We saw one team that had a lineup featuring three girls standing 6’2”, 6’3”, and 6’4”. And they could play. That game had approximately 60 scouts lining the wall.

Back at the hotel, The Banker and his wife stopped by my room for a beer one afternoon but it was a brief visit. They were there for about 10 minutes before their real friends called. Then they were gone like the wind. They left a half bottle of Hefeweizen in their wake. I could either cry in my beer or drink it. I chose the latter.

Maverick, Iceman, The Banker a lot of the other guys spent a lot of time discussing the game’s finer points. I was a fly on the wall for those conversations. I enjoy the game but I’m not what you call a basketball strategist. What I know about the game can be summed up in my high school JV coach’s statement that “You have to shoot to score; you have to score to win”. I like things simple.

As I mentioned earlier, Julie The Cruise Director was along for the trip. She arranged some great diversions for us. One afternoon we took a jet boat tour of the Willamette River. That one may have been Iceman’s idea but everyone had a fantastic time. Iceman went straight for the middle seat because he knows that gets the least water. I sat next to him. The boat driver was entertaining us when he wasn’t cranking it up to full speed or making sudden 360s to get us wet.

Our last recreational excursion, the day before we headed home, was a visit to Multnomah Falls. I took a brief walk up to a bridge but then headed back to the entrance. The girls and a couple adults decided to hike up further towards the top for some swimming. At one point Iceman realized he had to get one of the girls, who had to go home early, to the airport. He had to make a couple calls to get them going but Iceman always keeps his cool. About ten minutes after the second call, we were subjected to the spectacle of a gaggle of bikini clad girls hurtling down the steep path. We all agreed that this junket was well worth it. Most of the girls, as well as Julie and Iceman, were impressed with the falls but it had a more profound affect on Maverick and me. Although we may seem like a pair of battle hardened flyboys, we wept openly at its majestic beauty.

Hey Maverick, the check is in the mail. Honest!