The Suns- and the Parking Boys

Reviewing for the Bar. Okay, not really.


Hemorrhaging IQ, from doing nothing. I have three novels that are half-read, and I have codals which are- not read- and I’m having a nasty bout of ADS.

Oh, but that doesn't apply to the NBA Playoffs- which I follow religiously. Very early morning, I'm already camped in front of the teevee, waiting for tipoff. My brother walks by me before he leaves for work and tells me, everyday, how good it must be to be reviewing for the Bar. You get to watch TV much.

I scour web pages on my phone for news about the games, the teams, and the players. And I’m absolutely crazy over the Phoenix Suns. Their guys are small, their star player is injured for the season (Amare, good for 25something points a game, double digits in rebounding, and several wowowee dunks), and the player they acquired to replace him was injured midseason. Now, their primary – really, their sole enforcer, is out with a torn calf injury (the Suns aren’t really known for their defense). He’ll probably be done for the rest of this Season.

Where was I? Ah: small guys- their Center is 6’8”- they don’t play defense, and all they do is shoot threes, yet they’re in the Western Conference Finals. They probably won’t make it past this round (and move on to the NBA Finals) but, you have to hand it to them. Despite every setback, they’ve managed to get to where they were last year. I swear, they’ll be infinitely better next year. They're also the most fun team to watch. All they do is run and shoot.

Ginebra stuff. That’s why I’m hooked. Until Grant Hill plays again, if he isn’t retiring.

Next.

I got into a heated argument with one of those people who “guard” your car in parking lots. It was the University Grad; the only place where I could park my car was in that grassy area in front of Quezon Hall. I arrived early. Mine was the only car there. But when I was leaving, after the ceremony, this guy rapped on my window and asked for money for guarding my car.

I told him to give me a minute so that I can fix my things, and maybe look for change. He continued rapping on my window. I asked him to stop. He wouldn’t. I asked him again. He was very persistent. I was starting to become annoyed; then, I exploded. I opened my door and muttered what might have seemed to be an endless barrage of questions.

Bakit ang kulit mo?

Nagpabantay ba ako sa’yo?

Binantayan mo ba talaga?

Ni hindi mo nga ako tinulungang magParking dito, eh.

Baka naman kararating mo lang diyan pagpunta ko dito?

Etcetera etcetera. Then I left. In a hurry.

Car15, who was with me, was shocked. He didn’t think I was capable of flaring up.

Pet peeve, I explained, embarrased. I was already starting to calm down.

He looked like he was in good enough shape, I explained. Couldn’t he just look for some decent work? I didn’t ask him to guard my car, etcetera etcetera. But then again, those questions were easy for me to ask. That guy? He probably maybe did have a job. But maybe the money he was earning wasn’t enough, so he had to moonlight, or look for rackets. Godknows that what he was doing wasn’t illegal. And helping “guard” cars would be worlds better than robbing someone of his or her cellphone. With a knife. Or a gun.

It’s easy to ask- and be critical of others when you’re not involved in and/or living their lives.