Man that stings

Well, Boston mourns again. The Celtics arguably had their 18th title in the bag, but before we had a chance to do anything about it, it slipped away from us. Arg.

I caught the game in my community, sick of organizing afterdark transport into my nearby pueblo only to watch the game, most likely be disappointed, and then fall asleep watching The Devil Wears Prada on HBO at my counterpart Salvador's house. Trust me, it's not a consolation.

And yes, I did say I watched the final game in my community. My buddy Carlos recently got a satellite dish. Amazing how two-thirds of the community drinks river water, half don't have constant electricity or latrines, yet if families have 12 bucks a month, they're watching street luge on ESPN2 and wondering who actually likes street luge? like the rest of us up north. Something's wrong there.

Anyway, watching the series and emailing back and forth with Adam and Dad was great. Not to mention the experience of watching the games with my Salvadoran friends, most of whom have never actually watched a full game. (Basketball down here is like soccer up there. Have you ever actually watched a soccer game from start to finish? Exactly.)

To Salvadorans, basketball is a mess of complicated, arbitrary rules and physical movements they could only dream of duplicating. I especially liked trying to explain the shot clock to a kid in my community (You mean if they don't shoot, they get in trouble? Yes, yes that's right), as well as all the other rules the league's introduced over the years to keep us ADD shoe-buying consumers interested in those guys running back and forth chasing the bouncy ball (five seconds to inbound the ball, eight to get it across halfcourt, 24 to shoot, three-second defensive penalties, three-second offensive penalties...). It really is ridiculous when you think about it.

And then there's soccer. Pure, simple, corrupt soccer, where a referee usually does more harm than good and you can count the number of rules on both hands. Ah soccer. Essentially confined anarchy separated by sporadic moments of law and order. Over my two years here, I've really come to respect and love it. Never thought I would.

Basketball also requires a whole different mentality, I've realized. I mean, what other sport in the world can you watch the first and last quarters and pretty much say you saw the game? In soccer, if you blink, there's a pretty damn good chance that's gonna be the moment either team scores the goal of the game.

Ah well. As losers are oft heard saying: wait until next year... or at least until October. Go sox.