Will and I spent a decent amount of time talking about women’s basketball, as Wes Moore’s crew proved a very good distraction from Mark Gottfried’s team. We are still trying to figure out just what exactly Gott’s team is, and we’re trying to accept every conceivable excuse, but the results are starting to catch up with our bent toward random and unjustifiable optimism.
(“Miracle Drug,” by A.C. Newman, from The Slow Wonder; “4th of July, Philadelphia (Sandy),” by Cymbals Eat Guitars, from Pretty Years.)
Good luck to us all, let us hope there’s better basketball ahead, because the pattern of lazy and ugly basketball we’ve seen so far generally leads one to think that this team is a disaster. The next week tells the tale.