After the game, there was a special signing session with a few of the players. They were the ones no one had heard of, which was just as well, since I haven’t heard of the ones everyone has heard of either.
What was actually disappointing was that I was planning to try out the line I always get–You’re so tall! Do you play basketball?–if any of the players had given even the slightest indication that he was receptive to humor. But they all looked like they just couldn’t wait for the session to be over.
Which I suppose is fair, considering signing a bunch of strangers’ stuff probably isn’t the most thrilling way to spend your time. Still, if I were being paid lots of money to play a sport I loved, I’d like to think I’d be able to sit at a table for a half hour and write my name 100 times without making it obvious just how miserable I was.
Maybe I just don’t get it, which is probably why I’m not a professional basketball player. It has nothing to do with the fact that despite my awesome height I can’t catch, shoot, or block a basketball.