Five years later

Time is a strange thing.

You can look at the clock and swear it is not moving. You can look again and realize that a year has gone by since something memorable happened.

Think back to a time when you witnessed something in history and count up the years since that time.

I’m almost 34 and I’ve witnessed so much and haven’t seen as much as someone that is just a few years older than me.

These dates seem to fly by since we hardly remember what happened in between. Days for the most part are forgettable. This is my 119th blog and I don’t recall what I was doing on those days despite the timestamp on those days.

Five years in the future seems like a long time away. Five years ago doesn’t seem that long ago when it was a life changing moment.

Moments, however, can be as positive as they are negative. Eventually things balance out. That is what is always forgotten.

Been saying it for years

I haven’t been much of an NBA fan since my hopes and dreams of becoming a professional basketball player died when I was on the freshman basketball team at Tracy High.

It was around the point that I realized how dumb the professional game is. I like college basketball, but the professional game was lacking in my opinion.

I grew up a NBA fan, the second professional sports I followed behind the NFL. The reason was simple: The Lakers, with Magic Johnson, were fun to watch.

As I got older and I saw more and more NBA games I realized that many had a similar pattern to them, 40-44 game minutes of sheer boredom followed by the final minutes of the game being extended to 30 minutes of actual time because both teams still have what seemed like four time outs each. Then there is that time out to defend an inbounds play that follows a time out that set up that inbounds play with zero time off the clock.

And there are 82 games a season like that followed by another two months of playoffs where games are stretched out for as long as humanly possible.

Then the game became awful to watch offensively as scoring went down.

But I think what settled it all for me was the fact that I moved to Southern California and into the heart of Lakers country, a team I now despise due to all the Laker fans. (I’ve never seen a more spoiled group of fans before in my life. Your team won three straight titles to start the new century; they are allowed to have a couple of non championship seasons. Relax.)

For years I’d been saying how awful the league was and everything from the game to the season just seemed to drag on with only the real excitement at the end of both.

I was hoping with the lockout the league would be shown for what it really was: something to do to pass the time. And it did.

NFL fans didn’t want to see their sport shortened by any means and it wasn’t. There wasn’t any fan backlash either. The reason why is simple since the NFL is the most important league in the United States.

Meanwhile, the NBA lockout wasn’t a big deal in the media landscape. Then the players folded and the league is set to start on Christmas Day and a season was shortened to 66 games over four months and every team will have at least one back-to-back-to-back stretch. Did I mention the players caved?

However, the NBA decided to show its ignorance in another way. The Lakers traded two of its best frontcourt players in Pau Gasol and Lamar Odom for the best point guard in the league, Chris Paul. On that trade alone, the Lakers gave up a lot in the frontcourt to gain a Paul. Of course the Lakers would then try and land one of the best centers in the league in Dwight Howard which would balance out its losses.

Unbelievably the trade was cancelled with the main reason being that Chris Paul’s current team, the New Orleans Hornets, is owned by the NBA. Commissioner David Stern felt it was best to keep the Hornets best player in New Orleans.

The NBA went about being fun and exciting to when I started watching to the opposite. It’s as predictable as setting your watch by it. “Hey the Lakers are beating Dallas by one with two minutes to play. That must mean it is 10:08 p.m. in Los Angeles.”

Leadership needs to change. It’s time for a new commissioner with new ideas to breathe new excitement into a league that takes forever to get to the point.

Then again, what do I care?

Where did I leave off?

To the dedicated few, I’m sorry.

So why now am I beginning to write being again after taking off the last 20 months off, give or take a few days?

It’s simple; I needed to do something constructive with my down time. I’ve been wasting a lot of it to be honest, so let’s be constructive.

I also need to get my writing creativity flowing again. I have bigger plans that I’m going to get started next year.

But before I run a marathon, I need to get in shape – I’m speaking from experience there. Hopefully I can write when I get inspiration which would be more often. And most of these might be sports related, but I got to write what I know.

With that in mind, here we go:

Today, my first love repaid my loyalty to them by winning. Now if you didn’t know by now, the first thing I ever loved other than family was the San Francisco 49ers. Football in general was my first love, but the 49ers were above and beyond my favorite thing to watch.

Of course it was easy to watch them growing up in Northern California during the 1980s, they won almost every week and won five Super Bowls – all in my lifetime and before my 17th birthday.

I took it all for granted. Before the last Super Bowl in 1995 win, I just figured it was a given. I, of course, ignored the franchise history of it never winning a title in its 32-year history prior to my birth.

After the first three Super Bowls I saw the 49ers win (’84, ’89 and ’90, I was under four when they won in ’82) I never thought it would be their last one.

That was until that last one.

I remember rejoicing the 49ers crush San Diego. My father wanted to change the channel during the game but I refused and even made him watch the post-game show. I remember telling him “You can’t change it. This might be the last time I see them win.” It was sadly prophetic. Well so far anyway.

After that loss, the 49ers still won and made the playoffs, but never got close to the Super Bowl. They have not even made the playoffs on a regular basis as they used to.

Division titles used to be a given. What happened on Sunday is something to celebrate; funny how it works after all this time.

I’ve only been a San Francisco Giants fan since 1989 as baseball was the last sport I got into. I’ve learned humility from being a Giants fan since the franchise had not won since 1954.

Baseball is a long season with 162 games and a team could out of contention after May which means you’ll have to wait another 10 month to see if your team can be a contender. And if your team makes the playoffs, it’s a lot more nerve wracking since you watched them for six months. Three bad games can end their playoff run and made you feel you’ve wasted all this time.

So when the Giants won the World Series in 2010, all the frustration I ever had about the team went away. If only you could do that with people you know.

At the same time, I appreciated this accomplishment more than any Super Bowl the 49ers, my beloved team, won.

The bigger lesson in all this is: Things and people are taken for granted all the time and you might not know until it is gone. Sometimes it’s easy to fix and sometimes you just move on.

I’m not saying give everyone you know a daily affirmation but I will say is be careful on how you leave things.

Sports teams get a chance next year to make it up to you while you may not.

I still love my 49ers; I’m loyal since they gave me so much growing up so I deserve to sit though all their bad years.

With time, however, I’ve learned that it’s just a game. There are more important things.

The end of starting over

The concept of picking up and starting over is one of those American notions like baseball and apple pie.

This is not one of those stories. By definition, I didn’t do that. When I moved to my apartment on Second Street near Redondo Avenue, I had no new job or started out alone in the world. I, especially, did not have to make a new set of friends.

My life was the same in almost every sense except I had to find a new center. Months after the only relationship I had been in ended, I had been able to get on with my life.

This apartment was the first step since it represented a new starting point for my day.

The only real truth about me living the American idea of starting over was that I had no real possessions with me except for a laptop, clothes and stuff. I had no furniture, hardly any type of kitchen ware and no television.

I was fortunate to have a roommate who had all this and was willing to share. I had a bed, dresser and a place to start again.

And it did just that. This white apartment building was a crutch to help me until I got my life in a new order.

So when I got the eviction notice, just after four years and a few weeks after I moved in, it was hard. This place was my shelter through many tough times.

Alas, I have to go. It’s the law after all.

I’ll never forget what this apartment gave me, however.

Goodbye, for the last time, from apartment #1.