There is a little known AAN convention tradition (and isn’t it better that way?) of holding an early-morning pickup basketball game. I first heard about the game in Memphis (’99) and have played every year since. So to speak.
This year a dozen of us found our way to a delightful park in the (Earl the) Pearl District (our cabbie ? more on him later ? let us know the court was partly paid for by NIKE). Because it was only a half-court, we opted for four-on-four, and the first game pitted East vs. West. The Beasts from the East won, of course, thanks to a strong inside presence from Eric Coleman (Memphis Flyer), Blair Barna (Charleston City Paper) and some guy I don’t know (who was that left-handed bull with the killer drop step?). It was a true honor to play with those guys and ride their coattails; I played three games before heading back to make it to the online listings session. As far as I know, there were no casualties. Somebody let me know if I missed anything.
Beyond the obvious fact that playing basketball before 9 a.m. on the last day of the convention, when we are all pretty much spent, is a highly ridiculous idea, it is a lot of fun. A little exercise is a pretty good antidote for all of the physical abuse we heap on ourselves for three days prior. It certainly makes you feel justified in doing it to yourself one more night.

If you’re a hoopster and haven’t gotten the word on the game, the man to see next year is John Morrison (AWN).
The same John Morrison, by the way, who got our cabbie all wound up. As we were getting ready to take the short ride over from the Hilton, John let him know we were waiting on someone and needed a few more minutes.
“Hey, time’s money, man. This ain’t New York.”
But the cabbie chilled out and eventually four of us piled in for the short ride.
“I’ve been driving a cab for 35 years in Portland,” he informed us. “I am the last of a dying breed. I speak English, I don’t have body odor and my windows are clean.”
The immigration thing seemed to be bugging him.
“What brings you guys to Portland?” he asked.
“We’re all with alternative newspapers, like the Willamette Week. We’re here for an annual convention,” I told him.
“God, we don’t need any more people in the world like that ? fucking liberals,” he said, and then shortly thereafter chastised a woman for not riding her bike in the proper lane. In his next breath he noted that, hey, she might end up being his fourth wife. Anything is possible, I suppose.
He followed up with a diatribe about Portland’s Catholic diocese ? taking pains to inform us that he is a good Catholic ? and how the church leaders here have been strong pro-immigration advocates. That’s fine, he noted, but first they gotta quit indulging pedophila. And so on.
You might think that is all the jocularity you could fit into a $7.50 fare, but he also shared his idea for discouraging murderers. “Suppose you kill someone,” he said. “We kill your mother.”
“What if you mother is dead?” Morrison asked from the backseat.
“Then we kill your father.”
“And if he’s dead?”
“We kill you girlfriend’s mother.”
I shit you not. It was kinda refreshing to know everyone in Portland doesn’t think the same. And you know what, he was pretty damn funny with his delivery. I think he was just having some fun. He did get a pretty good tip out of us. (CARY STEMLE/LOUISVILLE ECCENTRIC OBSERVER)