The NBA Draft!!!! Oh. My, Gosh!!!!

For those of you, who may not have bread an Ultimate Sports Addict, you may not have known that today infact is the NBA Draft.

For those of you who don't actually have one of these said addict's living in your home, let me tell you that the Draft is actually televised for 6 hours. I know, what could they possibly need 6 hours for? Well, if I understood anything that my son told me, I would probably be able to tell you why they need to occupy 6 hours of television history with this event. But I don't understand a word. All I do indeed know, is that today I am grateful that I had the television on the basement hooked up to a receiver. He has spent most of the day down there glued to the set. Only taking breaks t0 come and update ME on the progress. Oh did I also mention that the DVR is set to record all 6 blessed hours?

Every once in a while in his excited rambling, I understand a word or a name here or there. I understand the word traded, and the name Shaquile O'neal I even caught. But the fact that I had no idea what team he played for before, really doesn't help when Alex tells me where he will now be going. Once I even heard him use the name the Timber Wolves. That I know. I know tht team is in Minnesota. However, I really have no idea what happened with that team.

I remember asking him once last year during the draft, if it really matters. Did he really have any idea who the up and coming college players were. Well that was the WRONG question. I had to then endure at least 15 minutes of college stats.

I have no idea where this sports addiction has come from. Really Steve and I both enjoy a good Jazz game occasionally (well that may have changed now for Steve, now that he has someone that can truly enjoy the game with him). But all I can attribute it to is that "winning shot" by John Stockton that took place 12 years ago. That shot that "sent the Utah Jazz to the NBA finals". Alex was a mere 5-6 weeks old. Steve was watching that game, sitting on the couch, holding his newborn son in his arms. When the shot went down, Steve jumped in the air screaming and whooping, nearly throwing his son across the room. Luckily he held the bundle tight as I gasped. I think that game, that day absorbed somehow into his small ungrooved brain, and inplanted a new groove there. As his brain developed, it formed around this crease.

But, oh my gosh!!! I have to go now, the Jazz are "on the clock" I MUST see who they pick first round.