Bookending sleep with social media has its downsides. Or upsides, depending on your perspective. Late last night Carmelo Anthony tweeted a photo of five of the world's best basketball players, kicking back at a Johnny Rockets. Apparently I fell asleep with that image percolating in my labyrinthine gray matter.
The court is smaller than normal — which is typical in Europe, I'm informed — and I trip out of bounds at least once. I canNOT make a layup. The wood floor is the color of Grade B maple syrup.
It must be a scrimmage since there's no other team. I'm the only girl, and I'm sorely underqualified. But for whatever reason, the powers that be decided to put me on Team USA. Most of the guys are supportive, even though they're not thrilled a 5'8'' female will be subbing in for LeBron in London (OK, let's be real: I know I'll be a benchwarmer). The only one who's being a jerk is Djokovic. I still can't figure out why he's on the team. Don't you play tennis? Because in this situation, clearly he's the one who's out of place.
Waking up is always a bit of a reality shock.
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