Somewhere Outside the Beltway...

Thursday, September 30, 2010.  We’re off to see the Wizard.  The wonderful Wizard named Wall.

John Wall. As well as the Wizard named Arenas. Also the Wizard named Blatche. All of the Wizards who are so far under contract!

The Washington Wizards used several local colleges to hold their workouts before their official pre-season began this year.  One of the college gyms they used was George Mason University, right up the street from GW Community School, and we were invited to attend.  Sadly, we were greeted at the Patriot Center by a clueless receptionist who told us that there was no Wizards’ practice on the night of our arrival.  After showing her our invitation and the name of our contact person, we were told that, indeed there was a practice, but that it was closed to the public.  There we stood: me, Alex Manthey, Doug Dickson, Dorothy, the Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion, instructed by the crazy gate-keeper to, “Go away!”

But we had the witch’s broomstick, I mean the coach’s invitation, and we knew we were supposed to be inside the emerald palace, I mean, the Patriot Center.  We walked around the perimeter until we saw them: The flying monkeys.  The men in black suits and shoulder holsters were on us in an instant.  After they saw the ruby slippers, I mean the written invitation, they threw open the palace gates and the marvelous, magical palace lay before us.  Forget about talking trees, dancing tin men, and crystal balls, we were watching something truly fantastical.  NBA tryouts front and center, no more than ten rows away from the action!  They sprinted, they shot baskets, threw passes and ran drills that resembled our own team drills (albeit larger) and played the game with great joy.  

Gilbert was sporting the thick black beard.  Hilton Armstrong was gigantic (and raining silky-smooth jump shots from the deep corners).  Kirk Hinrich made hustle look like an extension of his personality, and Sean Marks rode the exercise bike through the entire practice like a true pro.  Hamstring injury or not, that guy was working out with the team (or, actually, right next to the team on a program not related to the team in any way, except that he was there, and watching the other guys work…For a moment I thought that maybe I was an injured pro and the only reason that I was on the sidelines was that I was ordered to sit out by the medical staff.  Then I remembered that I couldn’t actually play in the NBA due to minor deficiencies in a couple of insignificant areas: Shooting, dribbling, passing, catching, playing defense, jumping, running, diving to the floor, free throws, and understanding the pro game.  After close consideration, I realized that watching the Wizards playing basketball was making me tired.)  

At any rate, there they were, right in front of us, doing their thing.  Adam Morrison, a guy too skinny and too slow to ever be a great pro, was hitting three point shots from three strides beyond the three-point arc.  It’s hard to imagine, that a guy who can shoot 40 percent from 40 feet away would be struggling to secure a spot on one of the league’s worst teams, but there he was, draining the most amazing shots you could imagine with the flick of a wrist.

In the car on the way to the show, an argument broke out about Nick Young.  Some argued that he was a rising star destined for greatness.  Others argued that he was a failed project, sure to be cut off the team.  He did not disappoint.  He was so great at times and so awful at other times that one thing is clear: the Nick Young argument will live on for another season.  Unanimously, however, was the vote on Nick Young’s shoes. 

  Admittedly, I went over the top with the Wizard of Oz analogy in the beginning of this story, but the magic slippers were no joke.  Nick Young was wearing deep blue patent leather sneakers that seemed iridescent!

I asked the kids if they wanted to leave after an hour of practice, andt hey unanimously declined.  For some reason I thought that I was the only one who was going to find this amazing, but everyone was loving it.  I know, later in the season when we go downtown to watch a Wizard’s game sitting fifty rows away in seats that will cost fifty dollars, it will pale in comparison to this.  We sat talking and laughing and were thoroughly entertained in our free seats at the Wizard’s pre-preseason workout.

We walked to our cars after the show in a gregarious gang.  Maybe John Wall will be the Rookie of the Year.  Maybe Gilbert Arenas will be the Come-Back Player of the Year.  Maybe Nick Young will be great more often than he is awful.  Maybe the Wizards will be a playoff caliber team this year.

I clicked my heels together three times.

“There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”