New coach, new systems, same frustratingly predictable outcome. We went down fighting, though who knows for what anymore. There seems to be a growing laundry list of incompatible motives for playing these days: some play to honor our last coach, some play for the team and, still, others just play for themselves. What ever happened to simply playing because you love it? Yes, losing sucks and of course, coaching changes aren't always easy, but at the end of the day, we are still getting paid to play basketball--a fact that still amazes me. Admittedly, we aren't making what most professional athletes spend on alcohol in a year, but that gross discrepancy doesn't eradicate the fact that, somehow, we are also pros. Shouldn't we be relishing this experience and opportunity, not pouting over things outside our control. We think things aren't fair now, heaven help us when our nikes and sweats are no longer suitable work attire. Won't we be utterly distraught.
Incidentally my new coach sounds shockingly like Massimo from the Wedding Planner, Jennifer Lopez's only watchable movie after Selena. No, not Matthew McConaughey, the one on the left... I wish my coach
looked sounded like Matt. That's right--Matt. No grown man should be called Matthew. My coaches first language is Serbian, making English his third behind German. Perfect, so now I can not know what's going on in two languages. Aside from rocking the bald look like our former coach, everything else is different. Practices are more like a track meet, and I hated those when I ran track (and by ran NATURALLY I mean shot-put, the one event that had zero running). It is hard to speculate or criticize after just a week. So I won't, for now. Our next two games are not only games that we need to win, but games that we SHOULD win. Perhaps then I will have a better idea.
I bit off the rest of my nails this week.
favorably, if not excessively celebrated in Chemnitz. Our Christmas market is quite remarkable, actually. Rides, lights, food, warm wine and lots of gift-huts (huts selling gifts). And of course, music. Now, it is one month straight of mommy's kissing Santa Claus, reindeer's trampling grandma's and jingling bells. I'm no Grinch, I just think a month is a liiiiiiiiiiiittle long. Just sayin.
I always find it interesting which American cultural traits or customs find favor in Germany. I still don't understand why the ice thing hasn't caught on, but I know I need to let that go. After playing in a handful of road games now though, I have discovered one thing transcends any language or societal barrier here: crude, woman-hating rap. I guess "bitches be crazy" worldwide. Seems to be an epidemic of sorts. The "wife-beating" doesn't seem to be as effective as originally thought. Who knew, right? Anyways, every road game the home team's warmup playlist is a splendid assortment of these racial slurs, veiled death threats and not so veiled sexual vulgarities passed off as music as only Americans can; our 1st amendment at it's finest. I love road games... I just drink in that rich culture that I so have been missing.
We have our next cup game (finally) this week, on the road again against a last place division 2 team. I am pretty sure this game, like our last road cup game, will not be online. If we win this game, we are in the final four I guess for the Pokal (the cup series).
It is starting to get really cold here now. We have been fortunate so far in that snow has not fallen and sometimes the sun says hello. However, I think those days are gone. Fear not, for I am prepared. I have equipped myself with the proper tools to stay warm. Yup. That is a jailbird onesie for adults. Everyone should own a onesie. It is totally in this season though and that baby keeps me borderline uncomfortably warm. Concerns me that babies are probably this warm like year round in these things. Probably why they are crying like someone is burning them. This was the best 30 euros I've spent since I moved here. The best thing about it is it's versatility--I can wear this puppy anywhere. Slumber party? No problem. Fancy date? Suuure, throw on some boots, a belt and an elegant vest and I am money. I'm so money, baby.