I have a tendency to go on about basketball. I know this, and yet I cannot stop, even if the listener's eyes have glazed and his breathing has slowed, his pulse barely detectable. I can't stop. So if you'd rather read about soccer or hockey or cricket, no harm, no foul, off you go now. The rest of us want to re-live the glories of the weekend.
I am, sadly, a terrible coach. What I lack in technical expertise, I try to make up for with enthusiasm. This never works. But my house league team this year comprises a terrific bunch of girls. How do I know this, when I see them only once a week?
Well, we lose. A lot.
But we lose with style, with grace, with grit. We (okay, they) walk off the court with burned, skinned arms and legs, heads held high. And no matter how bad the coach was, nobody has ever slugged her. Not once.
Last weekend, we posted our second win of the season.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It was something to see. We had only seven players but they played with the spirit of ten - double and triple-shifting without complaint, running as if they had the wind at their backs, never quitting. They did everything we'd talked about, everything we'd practised. All in the same game! They set screens (and they used them too) they passed, they rebounded. Oh, how they rebounded, grabbing more offensive rebounds and defensive rebounds in that one game than we have all season. (I swear.) They played tight defence and on offence, they moved the ball so well, it was... it was like watching a jazz ensemble catch fire in a jam session.
I won't tell you the final score, because you'd just get cranky at me for running it up. I guess I should have told them to slow it down, to shoot less... maybe that would have been the gracious thing. But they'd never played a game like that, not ever, and I didn't want them to lose a moment of it. I wanted them to know what it felt like to win, and win big. And I wanted them to keep playing the way they were, because it was so beautiful to see.
And then, the next day, the Raptors played the Trail Blazers, and the spectacular Brandon Roy, (#six pick in the 2006 draft) nearly ran away with a win. But Chris Bosh found crushing reserves of strength and skill in double overtime, playing such deeply intelligent basketball, that Toronto just had to win. (Of course Jose Calderon helped.) Sure, there were defensive lapses, by Calderon and, most spectacularly, by Jamario Moon. But Anthony Parker played a truly incredible game, with a season-high in points, and inspired defence.
Two days, two teams, two wins. Wouldn't it be great if you could capture this feeling, like music on a disc, to replay whenever you needed a lift?
Monday, January 14, 2008
Monday, January 7, 2008
How about that LeBron James?
The thing about basketball is, it can break your heart. I've been a Raptors ticket holder now for eight years, so I know a little about hope. And about how swiftly and easily it can be crushed into dust.
We played an amazing first quarter in Sunday's game against Cleveland. Breathtaking, fast, elegant offense (Chris Bosh with a behind-the-back pass!) and the most inspiring, suffocating defense. (Anthony Parker and Jamario Moon!) Oh, you should have seen it. It was stunning. I was stunned. Even the second and third quarters weren't terrible, although we did fritter away a 20-point lead (seriously, would it kill us to grab a rebound now and then?)
But in the fourth quarter, LeBron James woke up.
And that, my friends, was that.
On the brighter side, my editor called today and the manuscript is going ahead to the copy editor!! This means I have weeks before it comes back to me for revisions!!!! Just think of all the things I can get done: laundry, tidying, sorting my closet according to the Dewey Decimal System... And maybe, just maybe, this means the sequel isn't too deeply flawed after all.
But it's so hard to know. Striking just the right degree of alarm in a reader's heart is a tricky business. Parents worry that the characters spend too much time alone and unsupervised. But I fear boring the reader more than terrifying her. That is what keeps writers up at night I think. At least, it keeps me up. At 3:00 am I am often lying in bed, imagining a boy beginning to read The Legend of the Lost Jewels. He starts off well, his expression impenetrable but his fingers whipping through the pages. And then, he stops. Bored. Somehow, I have lost him. Somehow, the boy is no longer interested in what happens next. Like LeBron James for three quarters of a Sunday afternoon basketball game against the Toronto Raptors, he is thinking there is something else he'd rather do. Why did you stop reading, I ask. But before he can answer, I am jolted awake. The 3:35 am freight train is rumbling past.
We played an amazing first quarter in Sunday's game against Cleveland. Breathtaking, fast, elegant offense (Chris Bosh with a behind-the-back pass!) and the most inspiring, suffocating defense. (Anthony Parker and Jamario Moon!) Oh, you should have seen it. It was stunning. I was stunned. Even the second and third quarters weren't terrible, although we did fritter away a 20-point lead (seriously, would it kill us to grab a rebound now and then?)
But in the fourth quarter, LeBron James woke up.
And that, my friends, was that.
On the brighter side, my editor called today and the manuscript is going ahead to the copy editor!! This means I have weeks before it comes back to me for revisions!!!! Just think of all the things I can get done: laundry, tidying, sorting my closet according to the Dewey Decimal System... And maybe, just maybe, this means the sequel isn't too deeply flawed after all.
But it's so hard to know. Striking just the right degree of alarm in a reader's heart is a tricky business. Parents worry that the characters spend too much time alone and unsupervised. But I fear boring the reader more than terrifying her. That is what keeps writers up at night I think. At least, it keeps me up. At 3:00 am I am often lying in bed, imagining a boy beginning to read The Legend of the Lost Jewels. He starts off well, his expression impenetrable but his fingers whipping through the pages. And then, he stops. Bored. Somehow, I have lost him. Somehow, the boy is no longer interested in what happens next. Like LeBron James for three quarters of a Sunday afternoon basketball game against the Toronto Raptors, he is thinking there is something else he'd rather do. Why did you stop reading, I ask. But before he can answer, I am jolted awake. The 3:35 am freight train is rumbling past.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Random Thoughts on the New Year
Ack. I'm blogging. I knew this day would come. I've dreaded it. And now that it's here, it's just as bad as I'd feared. I have nothing planned to say and yet the compulsion to ramble on and on and on and on and on and on and - where was I? Oh, yes. Rambling.
The thing is, the latest draft of my manuscript is with my editor now, and so, for a fleeting moment, I am free. But it won't last. Presently the phone will ring or an email will arrive, and I will not be free. I will have work to do. Maybe the sequel is boring. Maybe it is too creepy. Perhaps it will make grownups fretful. Perhaps it will give impressionable children dangerous ideas about the proper use of "free time". I will be asked to make changes, minor alterations, small - oh, infinitesimally tiny edits. And all for the good of the reader. Nay, for the safety and longevity of the reader. What if a child, reading my book, is inspired to mayhem? What if a girl, perhaps ten or twelve years old, decides to delve into history and see for herself what those pesky Fenians were up to in the late nineteenth century? What if a boy, 11, decides to create his own invisible ink, or send secret messages using a complicated cipher? The responsibilities of an author, a children's author are immense.
Or not. Maybe all I do is open a door. I hope it's an interesting door; I hope it leads to a world that children will enjoy visiting. I've worked hard and my fingers are crossed but I don't know. The editor is wonderful and kind and she will try to help me fix problems and make the manuscript better. But I won't truly know if I've succeeded until the book is published and readers find me and email me and tell me what they think.
Just wondering whether this sequel will work has set my teeth on edge. My brain hurts. I need tea.
Will post more later.
Ack. I'm blogging. I knew this day would come. I've dreaded it. And now that it's here, it's just as bad as I'd feared. I have nothing planned to say and yet the compulsion to ramble on and on and on and on and on and on and - where was I? Oh, yes. Rambling.
The thing is, the latest draft of my manuscript is with my editor now, and so, for a fleeting moment, I am free. But it won't last. Presently the phone will ring or an email will arrive, and I will not be free. I will have work to do. Maybe the sequel is boring. Maybe it is too creepy. Perhaps it will make grownups fretful. Perhaps it will give impressionable children dangerous ideas about the proper use of "free time". I will be asked to make changes, minor alterations, small - oh, infinitesimally tiny edits. And all for the good of the reader. Nay, for the safety and longevity of the reader. What if a child, reading my book, is inspired to mayhem? What if a girl, perhaps ten or twelve years old, decides to delve into history and see for herself what those pesky Fenians were up to in the late nineteenth century? What if a boy, 11, decides to create his own invisible ink, or send secret messages using a complicated cipher? The responsibilities of an author, a children's author are immense.
Or not. Maybe all I do is open a door. I hope it's an interesting door; I hope it leads to a world that children will enjoy visiting. I've worked hard and my fingers are crossed but I don't know. The editor is wonderful and kind and she will try to help me fix problems and make the manuscript better. But I won't truly know if I've succeeded until the book is published and readers find me and email me and tell me what they think.
Just wondering whether this sequel will work has set my teeth on edge. My brain hurts. I need tea.
Will post more later.
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