As the Beatnik Walked By

The discussion has raged on for months now and the day has finally arrived. While I do not fault you for deciding to shut down your ECS permanently and finally heed your “artistic calling”, it is with a heavy heart that I pat you in the back, light your cigarette one final time, and set you of on your quest for literary euphoria.

I wish that you didn’t leave, at least not this soon. After all, I didn’t want to inherit the burden of writing a newsletter (that nobody reads anyway) week in and week out. I don’t want to write customer success stories of products I have no intention of using. Most of all, I don’t want to be checking my e-mail on a Sunday night thinking of the workload that lies ahead when morning comes.

But this is what you wanted. You told me about your goal of reading five books a month. You can do that now without worrying about the content of this week’s newsletter or how many pick-ups a client gets for their latest photo release. You don’t have to curse at the high heavens anymore when you attend meetings at an ungodly hour or share a conference room with self-serving clients.

You have all the time in the world now. What you do with it is your decision and yours alone. But if my opinion has any weight (I sure hope it does), I would like you to finish your short story. I believe that with a free mind and a relaxed hand, it has the potential to be something not just worth reading, but something worth picking up in the classics section of Powerbooks (or the bargain bins at Booksale).

I once told you that your writing “inspires me to write.” You brushed it off the same way a grubby individual brushes off dandruff off his shoulders. You thought I was pulling your leg. While I plead guilty of having my fair share of bald-headed lies, that statement was anything but. I said that, and will continue to say it, with the sincerity and genuineness of a good friend. No lies. No bullshit. No fugazi.

So as you march on your journey towards Palanca glory, do leave bread crumbs along the way. Let these crumbs guide those who wish to follow in your footsteps. Let these crumbs inspire those who, one day, will seek their own “artistic calling”.

A toast to you, Artel, for choosing the road less traveled. I wish you nothing but good tidings and warm blessings on your new journey.

"Cheers!"

Conquering Lebron

The trash talk started early. He had been running his gums all day about all the moves he wished to do lay down on Chris, even threatening to, as he put it, “break Chris’ one remaining good knee”. He claimed to have been practicing every morning for the past three weeks just so he can unleash his fury on the court.

Chris took all his boasts in stride, having decided early on to let his game do all the talking. After having read “Sacred Hoops”, he decided to adapt that to his strategy. “Don’t let the game consume you,” it said.

Game time commenced and Lebron hit an early 2 (it was a 1-2 scoring system so 3’s counted only as 2’s) in Chris’ face. Jogging down the court, he cracked a smile and flashed a wink as if saying ‘That’s just the appetizer, homie’. Chris shot back with a nod. Last thing he wanted to do was engage in a battle of wills and egos. Doing that, he figured, would only lead to his team’s downfall. So, he played his game, distributing the ball to the teammates and making sure that they, as a team, can withstand the onslaught of Lebron. When winning time happens, then they might have the chance to sneak up and snatch victory from Lebron’s team.

The game went back and forth. Lebron’s team built a six-point lead. Chris’ team clawed back and tied the game. Lebron rang up four straight points, but Chris kept pace the whole time. Their individual battle also had its share of highlights and lowlights. Chris managed to beat him for a high-arching floater that banked in and nestled through the net. In retaliation, Lebron blew past him and cradled in a nifty left-handed lay-up with two defenders in his face.

Towards the end - with the score tied at 22 - Lebron was isolated on the left side for a one-on-one play. He faked Chris to the right. Chris didn’t budge. Lebron drove hard to the left and at the last moment, elevated for a 12-foot jumper along the baseline. Swish! Nothing but net. 23-22.

Chris’ team’s trip down the court resulted in him turning over the ball on an errant pass. Chris was pissed. He didn’t want to let the game end that way. There was no way in hell that he was going to be the goat.

So he took on the task of guarding Lebron again. He knew Lebron burned him the last time, but he was determined to not let it happen again. He was going attach himself to his hip, if he had to.

Lebron was isolated again on the weak side with everybody else, including the ball, on the other side. Suddenly, he makes a quick cut to the basket immediately followed by one of his teammates lofting a perfect lob pass. “Uh-oh! An alley-oop pass!” Its one thing to lose a game to a jump shot, but to go down because of an alley-oop play was downright embarrassing. Instinctively, Chris raised his arms in an attempt to disrupt the pass. The ball hit his elbow and found its way to a teammate’s arms. “Yes,” his head screamed in delight. It was their turn now to try and tie the game and send it to sudden death. Chris received the ball at the top of the key and drove hard right. Lebron and one of his teammates collapsed on him and the three got tangled up, sending their bodies sprawling to the floor. Chris called a foul. Lebron’s eyes lit up like an adolescent watching his first Jenna Jamison movie. “Foul?! Where?” He couldn’t believe Chris had made such a call! In Chris’ defense, when the three bodies collided and made a heap on the floor, there had to have been, at least, incidental contact. None of Lebron’s teammates jumped to his defense, either, so his complain ended up falling on deaf ears.

As the ball was inbounded to Chris, he quickly passed it to the center, who quickly made a move to the basket. Chris’ defender chose to double-team he center, leaving him wide open at the wing. Reacting to the double-team quickly, the center passed the ball back to Chris where he raised up and shot a wide-open three. As the ball left his fingertips, he left his outstretched arms in its follow through pose. The release was perfect. He knew it was going in.

“Swish!”

In a moment of sheer triumph, Chris raised his hands up in victory. Everybody started congratulating each other on a hard-fought game. Everybody except Lebron, who took a seat on one of the benches, shaking his head at the outcome of the game.

On the ride home, Chris and Lebron begin to break down the game, play by play. As Lebron steps out of the car, Chris makes fun of him one last time. Lebron could only smile. Before closing the door, he left with a few parting words. “Next time, I’m going to own you,” he said. As he left Lebron, Chris couldn’t help but to laugh. He concedes that Lebron is a more dynamic, and a far better athlete than he will ever be. Victories against him comes few and far in between.

But on this night, Chris managed to upend the Chosen One.

On this night, Chris was triumphant. And as for Lebron, well, he bore witness.