Year to year it seems like I find different items in which I feel help me preform my best on the court. Now, I am not a superstitious person by nature (and I am by no means referring to steroids...and if you look at my frame, one could hardly make the argument that I am the poster child for such a drug), and at the end of the day, I realize it is both God's blessing and my hard work that allow me to compete on the court at such a high level.
That being said, I believe in the power of the mind, and any edge I can give myself mentally going into a game helps. In other words, if I believe that "Exhibit A" gives me confidence and aides me in preforming my best...than it does. It is not some supernatural power that "Exhibit A" has, which allows me to, but rather my belief in myself, that does. While I realize, that this may sound borderline nutso...to each his own, and I have verified this against my stats.
My Junior year at UAF is really when I began to hit my stride in terms of peak performance on the court, and I really haven't looked back since (not being a cocky a-hole...so quit judging). But it was also my Junior year I felt that every time I ate a Spicey Firecracker Sandwhich from Burger King the night before a game, I played very well the next day. Furthermore, a teammate of mine convinced me to drink a whole container of OJ the night before each game...so it may have been that (thanks Titus).
My Senior year in Alaska it was listening to a song by the band Elbow called, "Grounds for Divorce".
This year, my rookie season as professional here in Germany, it seems as though everytime I hear the song "Paranoid" by Black Sabbath, I have a 20+ game. Odd isn't it?
I will reiterrate, that these quirks provide me with no actual supernatural gift, and it is the work of God, and myself which aid me.
However, I believe there is something to be said for finding your pregame ritual, and sticking to it. Whether, its napping, eating a certain food, playing a certain song...or chasing your flatmate around the apartment with a sock full of AA Batteries (that was one time Hun...one time).
This concept of finding a ritual is a positive thing, as it gets you in a habit of success. It is important for a person to get in the right mind frame for the game/sales call/business meeting etc. And that is what this is.
Needless to say, from here on out...it appears I will know more Ozzy lyrics that I will care to admit.
Be that as it may, I'm going to finish strong this season, and enjoy a great career.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Basketballism
As of late, it seems that I've had trouble sleeping, be it the food I eat, over-sleeping, or getting a late workout in. But tossing and turning each night has given my mind time to wander aimlessly. And in this wander, I've given a substantial amount of thought as to the role basketball has played in my life, as well as some of the finer points, which are little discussed. This entry will briefly tie in basketball to other aspects of my life, in an attempt to elaborate on the cliche, "It's more than a game." I should preface the following, by saying this account will have a more serious, introspective tone.
Basketball as Escapism
This game of mine has always been an avenue to escape from the world. It seems no matter what is going on in my life, the stress, the problems, melt away when I play the game. This no doubt amplifies my passion, for it, because it remains a positive constant in my life. For Escapism, in my mind is just another means of coping. It's how I distance myself (for better or for worse) from the mess. The more awful the issue, generally, the harder I want to push myself in my workout. My mind focuses more on each movement, the shifting of the ball, the contortion of my body, holding a strong follow through. The only thing in this universe is me, the ball, and the basket. Biologically, this makes sense, for exercise is widely considered a remarkable remedy for poor health, be it mental or physical (depending on the nature of the problem). For those of you do not know, the brain, in response to strenuous physical activity releases endorphin's into the body which give us a natural high, or an overall sense of wellness. Which is another reason I associate a positive feeling with Basketball as Escapism. Whether or not the issue is resolved when I am through with my workout, often times remains to be seen, however, it allows me tackle the problem with the proper positive mental attitude.
Basketball As Localism
There is a strong sense of community (at least from my prospective) as far playing basketball at a high level and being from Washington. I have reconnected with many guys I played with/or against in high school and college, and though we may not have necessarily been close, we share something unique in that playing basketball gave us a bond. Whether its something as simple as reminiscing about hard fought games, or sticking together in the trenches that can be a basketball season.
So when you see or hear of someone you played with/against (from WA) there is a sense of pride and a genuine sense of happiness for that person. In other words, they represent you, and you, them. Family.
Well, I promised myself I would not take you too far down the rabbit hole, that can be my contemplative thoughts, and I'll just leave you with those Basketballisms. So I hope you've enjoyed, and perhaps you understand a bit more about the intricacies that are associated with the game.
Basketball as Escapism
This game of mine has always been an avenue to escape from the world. It seems no matter what is going on in my life, the stress, the problems, melt away when I play the game. This no doubt amplifies my passion, for it, because it remains a positive constant in my life. For Escapism, in my mind is just another means of coping. It's how I distance myself (for better or for worse) from the mess. The more awful the issue, generally, the harder I want to push myself in my workout. My mind focuses more on each movement, the shifting of the ball, the contortion of my body, holding a strong follow through. The only thing in this universe is me, the ball, and the basket. Biologically, this makes sense, for exercise is widely considered a remarkable remedy for poor health, be it mental or physical (depending on the nature of the problem). For those of you do not know, the brain, in response to strenuous physical activity releases endorphin's into the body which give us a natural high, or an overall sense of wellness. Which is another reason I associate a positive feeling with Basketball as Escapism. Whether or not the issue is resolved when I am through with my workout, often times remains to be seen, however, it allows me tackle the problem with the proper positive mental attitude.
Basketball As Localism
There is a strong sense of community (at least from my prospective) as far playing basketball at a high level and being from Washington. I have reconnected with many guys I played with/or against in high school and college, and though we may not have necessarily been close, we share something unique in that playing basketball gave us a bond. Whether its something as simple as reminiscing about hard fought games, or sticking together in the trenches that can be a basketball season.
So when you see or hear of someone you played with/against (from WA) there is a sense of pride and a genuine sense of happiness for that person. In other words, they represent you, and you, them. Family.
Well, I promised myself I would not take you too far down the rabbit hole, that can be my contemplative thoughts, and I'll just leave you with those Basketballisms. So I hope you've enjoyed, and perhaps you understand a bit more about the intricacies that are associated with the game.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
This is the Artwork Your Mother Warned You About
This is a post I've been wanting to write for some time now, and what's great is that you, the reader, don't have sit through my failed attempts at humor or endless basketball ramblings.
Instead, I've elected to dedicate this entry entirely to one my passions. Graffiti.
I believe it to be unappreciated artwork. There is seemingly limitless creativity and culture that reside in urban areas, manifesting into beauty. So here are some of my favorite pieces around Cottbus, Germany (my home away from home).
[I think I hear Marx laughing]
[Down the street]
Instead, I've elected to dedicate this entry entirely to one my passions. Graffiti.
I believe it to be unappreciated artwork. There is seemingly limitless creativity and culture that reside in urban areas, manifesting into beauty. So here are some of my favorite pieces around Cottbus, Germany (my home away from home).
[I think I hear Marx laughing]
[Down the street]
[My girl Amerika]
[Beauty in chaos]
[Revolt Noir]
[Somewhere ahead is the back of the line]
[Beauty in chaos]
[Revolt Noir]
[Somewhere ahead is the back of the line]Tuesday, February 2, 2010
A Wonderous, Fattening Discovery
So I have elected to forgo my usual blathering, for I have some amazing news. We have had two consecutive weekends off, and in that time I have made an astonishing discovery. One that is sure to forever alter the very fabric of my time here in Germany.
With my motivation for crossing the street to grocery shop dwindling (read previous entry to why this is understandably so). I have had no recourse but to order food and have it delivered to me, while it does in fact empower my laziness beyond reason, it comes in handy.
Since Day One here in Germany I have known about a little delivery marvel appreciated by much of Cottbus, and affectionately called, Pizza Amerika. While, PA (as we call it in the "Biz")***, is more or less infinitesimal in the vast universe that is pizza delivery, it is unique in it's ability to deliver pretty much any food the mind can fathom. In other words, when I have an outlandish craving, I can give Pizza Amerika a little jingle and vwalla(?) it appears at my door a mere 30 minutes later.
You're probably thinking, "Wishfull thinking fatty..."
I assure you, you as wrong as I am thankful, for such a wonderous miracle.
While, purusing the official Pizza Amerika website (I said we had 2 weekends off from games, so I have a lot of time on my hands, alright?), I nearly fell out of my chair, for I had discovered what was surely the Holy Grail of delivery menus. To my amazement the assortment of goodies reached far beyond a simple pizza. Burgers, Pasta, Chicken, French Fries, Sandwhiches, Ice Cream, Donuts, Soda, Juice, Beer, Wine, Alcohol, Milkshakes, Salads...and the list could go on like this. Needless to say, I'm happier than Tiger Woods at a Victoria Secret Fashion Show.
And While I've only ventured as far as Pizza, Burgers, French Fries, and Donuts...I will inexorably continue to order up feasts, when ever my hunger pangs couple with my laziness.
I found my calling as a Delivery Food critic, and will report back soon.
In completely unrelated news, there is a fly in my room that I have distainfully nicknamed Hydra, for I feel like every time I kill it...three more seem to appear and buzz in my face.
Anyone know the German word for Bug Zapper?
***Side note: If I ever use the phrase, "the Biz" with air quotes, please, someone push me into a woodchipper.
With my motivation for crossing the street to grocery shop dwindling (read previous entry to why this is understandably so). I have had no recourse but to order food and have it delivered to me, while it does in fact empower my laziness beyond reason, it comes in handy.
Since Day One here in Germany I have known about a little delivery marvel appreciated by much of Cottbus, and affectionately called, Pizza Amerika. While, PA (as we call it in the "Biz")***, is more or less infinitesimal in the vast universe that is pizza delivery, it is unique in it's ability to deliver pretty much any food the mind can fathom. In other words, when I have an outlandish craving, I can give Pizza Amerika a little jingle and vwalla(?) it appears at my door a mere 30 minutes later.
You're probably thinking, "Wishfull thinking fatty..."
I assure you, you as wrong as I am thankful, for such a wonderous miracle.
While, purusing the official Pizza Amerika website (I said we had 2 weekends off from games, so I have a lot of time on my hands, alright?), I nearly fell out of my chair, for I had discovered what was surely the Holy Grail of delivery menus. To my amazement the assortment of goodies reached far beyond a simple pizza. Burgers, Pasta, Chicken, French Fries, Sandwhiches, Ice Cream, Donuts, Soda, Juice, Beer, Wine, Alcohol, Milkshakes, Salads...and the list could go on like this. Needless to say, I'm happier than Tiger Woods at a Victoria Secret Fashion Show.
And While I've only ventured as far as Pizza, Burgers, French Fries, and Donuts...I will inexorably continue to order up feasts, when ever my hunger pangs couple with my laziness.
I found my calling as a Delivery Food critic, and will report back soon.
In completely unrelated news, there is a fly in my room that I have distainfully nicknamed Hydra, for I feel like every time I kill it...three more seem to appear and buzz in my face.
Anyone know the German word for Bug Zapper?
***Side note: If I ever use the phrase, "the Biz" with air quotes, please, someone push me into a woodchipper.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Colin vs. Lebensmittelgeschäft
Almost bi-weekly, I open my cupboards to reach for some food in a crazed state, searching frantically for some food, only to realize that I'm fresh out of the essentials (ie Kit-Kats and easily made pasta). It was that time of month again. The time of month, I must leave the cave that has become my room, and brave the harsh winter to the nearest corner market in search of delectable's and nic-nac's (If you don't know by now I use the words "nic-nac's" as often as possible).
Now, you might be ponitificating to yourself, thinking, "Colin, why on earth would write about something as simple as going to the market, people do that everyday?"
To that I say, nay, people don't always go to THIS market, and I assure you...it is not simple.
Please allow me to elaborate.
A few times a month I venture across the street to a market, specifically, The Netto, which is supposed to be a discount market, but who's to say really?
This is a surprisingly daunting task, for my ability to speak and read German is novice at best. This in-turn makes finding foods that I deem edible and cookable, increasingly difficult. Therefore, I am reduced to my most basic instincts...I look at the pictures on the box/bag to determine if it meets my criteria (Don't smirk at me, this is like an awful game of Pictionary, where, when you lose...you lose big).
I fear, that you don't quite understand the gravity of this situaiton.
An example of me "losing big" would be the tuna fish pizza debacle. Where I unknowingly grabbed an oven baked pizza, and upon examining the box closely (Pun not intended) determined that this sausage pizza would be delicious. Eager to eat my new-found prize, I hurried home and popped it in the oven, 20 minutes later, the smell not withstanding (my sniffer failed me on this one) I took a monsterous bite, and much to the dismay of my mouth/stomach, it was not sausage that garnished my pizza, rather it was tuna fish. Horrified, I rushed to bathroom to void my mouth of all remaining tastes, and in doing so I realized my failure. I was playing Grocery Store Pictionary like a cowboy, and I lost big.
[My trusty shopping bag]
With that humbling experience clear in my mind, I now enter the Netto only with my grocery bag, and a child-like sense of wonder.
However, some time has passed since that fateful day, and I've regained some of my confidence in my ability to adequetely pick tuna-free foods. So as of late, I have been cautiously going past my 10 item rotation, into the unknown (not really, this week I'm trying home made schnitzel and lental soup).
[The cursed tuna-fish pizza]
One thing, that I absolutely love about the Netto is, it's a one-stop shop for pretty much anything a human being can conceive. In random sections you will find items you would normally find at a video store, liquor store, or homeless man's garbage bag. They have it all, egg whites to ab rippers (those belts that vibrate and supposedly give you toned abs...not that I own one...stop judging me!). I'm fascinated, each and every time I step foot inside, for surprises lurk around every pile of tuna-fish pizza boxes you see.
Needless to say, I've won some, and lost some battles at the Netto, and I've learned a few things a long the way. Soon, I am confident that I will be able to shop without reservation, reading packages left and right, juggling fruits and vegetables, even recommending the best way to serve Jägerschnitzel.
...But until that day, please pray for me, because I have no idea what I'm doing.
Now, you might be ponitificating to yourself, thinking, "Colin, why on earth would write about something as simple as going to the market, people do that everyday?"
To that I say, nay, people don't always go to THIS market, and I assure you...it is not simple.
Please allow me to elaborate.
A few times a month I venture across the street to a market, specifically, The Netto, which is supposed to be a discount market, but who's to say really?
This is a surprisingly daunting task, for my ability to speak and read German is novice at best. This in-turn makes finding foods that I deem edible and cookable, increasingly difficult. Therefore, I am reduced to my most basic instincts...I look at the pictures on the box/bag to determine if it meets my criteria (Don't smirk at me, this is like an awful game of Pictionary, where, when you lose...you lose big).
I fear, that you don't quite understand the gravity of this situaiton.
An example of me "losing big" would be the tuna fish pizza debacle. Where I unknowingly grabbed an oven baked pizza, and upon examining the box closely (Pun not intended) determined that this sausage pizza would be delicious. Eager to eat my new-found prize, I hurried home and popped it in the oven, 20 minutes later, the smell not withstanding (my sniffer failed me on this one) I took a monsterous bite, and much to the dismay of my mouth/stomach, it was not sausage that garnished my pizza, rather it was tuna fish. Horrified, I rushed to bathroom to void my mouth of all remaining tastes, and in doing so I realized my failure. I was playing Grocery Store Pictionary like a cowboy, and I lost big.
[My trusty shopping bag]With that humbling experience clear in my mind, I now enter the Netto only with my grocery bag, and a child-like sense of wonder.
However, some time has passed since that fateful day, and I've regained some of my confidence in my ability to adequetely pick tuna-free foods. So as of late, I have been cautiously going past my 10 item rotation, into the unknown (not really, this week I'm trying home made schnitzel and lental soup).
[The cursed tuna-fish pizza]One thing, that I absolutely love about the Netto is, it's a one-stop shop for pretty much anything a human being can conceive. In random sections you will find items you would normally find at a video store, liquor store, or homeless man's garbage bag. They have it all, egg whites to ab rippers (those belts that vibrate and supposedly give you toned abs...not that I own one...stop judging me!). I'm fascinated, each and every time I step foot inside, for surprises lurk around every pile of tuna-fish pizza boxes you see.
Needless to say, I've won some, and lost some battles at the Netto, and I've learned a few things a long the way. Soon, I am confident that I will be able to shop without reservation, reading packages left and right, juggling fruits and vegetables, even recommending the best way to serve Jägerschnitzel.
...But until that day, please pray for me, because I have no idea what I'm doing.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Thank You Santa for Friends & 70cm of Snow
Well, I'm back in Cottbus after a nice holiday in the states. Although, upon stepping off the plane I was horrified, for when I looked outside I thought I had got on the wrong flight and ended up in the cold tundra that is Fairbanks, Alaska. It seems the climate of Northeast Germany neglected to ask me if I was up for another snow-filled winter, and much to my dismay went ahead dumped 70 or so centimeters of snow around the greater Cottbus-Berlin area. (I'm actually overreacting for the sake of readership, truth be told, when I walk outside to a winter wonderland and crunch the snow beneath my feet, I give it a nod and reminsce. For it reminds me of my other home, and my friends in the great state of Alaska).
My time at home was a lot of fun, I got to spend Christmas seeing friends and family that I had not seen in awhile.
I also got to spend Christmas in Boston, with my other family! And seeing Stef's neice and nephew, was about the cutest thing one could imagine.
Another pleasant surprise was an unexpected vistor in the form of one 6'8 college teammate of mine. Thats right, the one, the only Mike Anderson. His arrival in Seattle roused me and forced me to fight my bout of Jack In the Box induced food poisening. We were able to rally some friends, go out in Seattle and see rooftop fireworks from our apartment in Seattle. It really is quite the spectacle.
All in all, I had a great vacation back home to the states, but its great to be back in Germany playing the sport I love.
My time at home was a lot of fun, I got to spend Christmas seeing friends and family that I had not seen in awhile.
I also got to spend Christmas in Boston, with my other family! And seeing Stef's neice and nephew, was about the cutest thing one could imagine.
Another pleasant surprise was an unexpected vistor in the form of one 6'8 college teammate of mine. Thats right, the one, the only Mike Anderson. His arrival in Seattle roused me and forced me to fight my bout of Jack In the Box induced food poisening. We were able to rally some friends, go out in Seattle and see rooftop fireworks from our apartment in Seattle. It really is quite the spectacle.
All in all, I had a great vacation back home to the states, but its great to be back in Germany playing the sport I love.
Friday, November 27, 2009
This Night Stuck Out like a Turd in a Punch Bowl
Last night was probably one of the most fun I've had while living in Germany. It began as any other might (me uploading American TV shows on my computer), however, it was interrupted when the Point Guard on our team, Sebastian (Everyone here calls him Dikkah...which surprisingly translates into fat boy) called me and invited me for a night on the town. Dikkah and I have grown close in my time here, here reminds me somewhat of my roommate in college, and speaks very good English.
[Dikkah and I...making sexy time]
To my enjoyment, Cottbus (like most German towns) throws what is known as a Christmas Carnival, which runs from the end of November to the end of December, and celebrates...well, Christmas. Such celebrations, mainly consist of everyone gathering in the center of town, where there are many booths for drinking, food, and Christmas nic-nacs (Hi i'm 67 and have words like "nic-nacs" in my vernacular) as well as rides for the little ones. It really is a sight to behold, meaning, in my American imagination, this was how I pictured German Christmas.
Dikkah and I decided to walked around and check out the festivities, trying various food and drink. Dikkah, in attempt to culture his otherwise less-wordly teammate, assisted me in choosing the aforementioned food and drink. One of which I highly reccomend. It is called Glühwein, which is hot wine, mixed with Christmas spices and adult beverages (I liken it to what we in America drink around Christmas, hot apple cider). Keeping in the spirit of German delicacies, I also made a beeline for the Brautwurst and potatoes, thus completing my search for all things German.
[Christmas Festival; Bring on the hot wine]
We then met up with several friends of Dikkah whom he went to school with. Filling the remainder of our time together drinking more Glühwein and disscusing differences between German and American culture. At their behest I tried my best to say complex German words, I think this amused them a great deal...I need a Rosetta Stone so I can exact my revenge.
I then parted ways with Dikkah and company to meet up with another friend of mine, Sandra (a musician from Berlin) for she had scored me a free ticket to see an amazing Swedish folk band known as Friska Viljor. I recently discovered this band earlier in the week, and had been youtubing them in preparation for the concert, snowballing my excitement.
[They were bearded and wonderful]
It should be known that I love all things bizzare and out of the ordinary. Be it art, movies, clothes or music and this band certainly quenched my thirst for this odd affinity. Needless to say, Friska Viljor rocked my face competely off, playing a 2 hour set, with several encores. Pushing the crowd into music enduced frenzy, complete with European dancing and moshing (Note, I decided against participating in this, for when I pictured it, it ended in my untimely arrest for the assult of several tiny Germans...being 6'8 and 220 pounds or so, doesn't allow one to partake in moshing).
I can say without hesitation that it was the best concert I have ever seen.
Henceforth I will push Friska Viljor onto almost anyone who will listen, and tell of an amazing night.
This is Germany.
[Dikkah and I...making sexy time]To my enjoyment, Cottbus (like most German towns) throws what is known as a Christmas Carnival, which runs from the end of November to the end of December, and celebrates...well, Christmas. Such celebrations, mainly consist of everyone gathering in the center of town, where there are many booths for drinking, food, and Christmas nic-nacs (Hi i'm 67 and have words like "nic-nacs" in my vernacular) as well as rides for the little ones. It really is a sight to behold, meaning, in my American imagination, this was how I pictured German Christmas.
Dikkah and I decided to walked around and check out the festivities, trying various food and drink. Dikkah, in attempt to culture his otherwise less-wordly teammate, assisted me in choosing the aforementioned food and drink. One of which I highly reccomend. It is called Glühwein, which is hot wine, mixed with Christmas spices and adult beverages (I liken it to what we in America drink around Christmas, hot apple cider). Keeping in the spirit of German delicacies, I also made a beeline for the Brautwurst and potatoes, thus completing my search for all things German.
[Christmas Festival; Bring on the hot wine]We then met up with several friends of Dikkah whom he went to school with. Filling the remainder of our time together drinking more Glühwein and disscusing differences between German and American culture. At their behest I tried my best to say complex German words, I think this amused them a great deal...I need a Rosetta Stone so I can exact my revenge.
I then parted ways with Dikkah and company to meet up with another friend of mine, Sandra (a musician from Berlin) for she had scored me a free ticket to see an amazing Swedish folk band known as Friska Viljor. I recently discovered this band earlier in the week, and had been youtubing them in preparation for the concert, snowballing my excitement.
[They were bearded and wonderful]It should be known that I love all things bizzare and out of the ordinary. Be it art, movies, clothes or music and this band certainly quenched my thirst for this odd affinity. Needless to say, Friska Viljor rocked my face competely off, playing a 2 hour set, with several encores. Pushing the crowd into music enduced frenzy, complete with European dancing and moshing (Note, I decided against participating in this, for when I pictured it, it ended in my untimely arrest for the assult of several tiny Germans...being 6'8 and 220 pounds or so, doesn't allow one to partake in moshing).
I can say without hesitation that it was the best concert I have ever seen.
Henceforth I will push Friska Viljor onto almost anyone who will listen, and tell of an amazing night.
This is Germany.
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