Babbling Incoherently

I really don't know why, other than Mark Cuban is the greatest owner in professional sports and the Mavericks organization rules and my mommy can beat the shit out of your mommy--

Ahem. Beginning at the beginning. I'll try and make it brief.

Last year the Mavs played the Pistons in the preseason, but the game itself was held at the Van Andel Arena in downtown Grand Rapids, Michigan (it's on the other side of the state from Detroit). I was bummed when I found out about it, because my mother and I went to visit the kinfolk that same week and if we'd known we might've been able to go.

When the preseason schedule was released some weeks ago, I saw that on October 13th my Mavs would be making another field trip to West Michigan. Ba duh bing! plans are made to stay with The Aunt'n'Uncle, my younger sister gets some time off, and for the first time I get to inflict my obsession on my nearest and dearest.

Good deal, neh? But my mother had an even eviler plan. She asked around, got some advice, and wrote an e-mail to Mr. Cuban. Basically, she explained the vacation, the family, the blog, the ongoing sacrifice of dignity. And The Man gave the order and now there's a pass gonna be waiting for me at Will Call at the Van Andel!

I'm terrified. I'm excited. I'm terrified. I'm delighted. I'm terrified. My brain's throwing together a piece I can pitch to DB.com, or to mavs.com, or just post here for my two or three loyal readers. I don't know! Eeeek! Press pass! Does that mean hanging around . . . people? I'm horrible at that! I'll screw it up! I'll blurt out awkward non sequitors about body proportions! I'll hallucinate overhearing a fat joke from a bad source! My contacts'll explode! My pants will catch fire! The arena will cave in! An early ice storm will trap everybody in town for a week! We'll all be buried in lake-effect snow and have to kill and eat Ben Wallace! AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

(breath)

Sorry.
-BJ