Long, Tall Women

As anyone who has read this blog knows, I am fascinated (obsessed?) by anyone without a y chromosome. So when my brother invited me to a Connecticut Sun (WNBA) basketball game, I left skid marks in accepting. Not only were there to be women in shorts panting sweatily up and down the court, but they were super-sized, on average 12% more female per person than I'm used to. Fantasy heaven. All I needed was my creative imagination and a step-stool.

As it turned out, it is politically incorrect to comment on the pulchritude on display. I was only supposed to notice their athletic ability and somehow not speculate (even silently) on the pleasureable havoc these young Amazons would wreak on my overmatched body in the boudoir. I therefore squelched these unseemly thoughts (sure I did) and forced myself to concentrate on the sports action. This proved unfortunate as unlike their male counterparts, these ladies couldn't seem to levitate more than six inches off the floor. Jump shots were more like the old one-handed pushes I remember from the early 1950's. Although some of the twisting back-handed drives were spectacular, the ball was released 6 inches BELOW the rim. Nearly all of these would have been blocked in a Division 3 men's game.

Nonetheless, the game was competitive and enjoyable. The Sun had an Australian player who dove for every loose ball and also was blonde and cute (oops, forget I said that part). They also had a player who was 7'2"(you can't blame me for the prurient thoughts I might have had here, I mean come ON). Unfortunately, "movement" was a foreign concept for this tree-top female, so she mainly stood in the center of play with her hands up. Fortunately, several players on the Los Angeles team inexplicably tried to shoot the ball exactly where the giantess had raised her hands, which led to many blocked shots. Again, nobody seemed to consider jumping as an alternative technique. Oh well.

Before the game, the cheerleaders, who call themselves a "dance team", were in the hallway outside the gate signing pictures of themselves. They were young and lovely and ludicrously cheerful. Their pantalooned costumes were definitely "Family Channel", any relation to the sexy velcro of the NBA a very distant thought. I've never seen such beautiful, sexless women. Their dance routine was similarly Disneyesque. Even their hip-wiggles looked like a fourth-grader imitating grown-ups. And once again any off-color comment was strictly verboten, a wolf-whistle would probably have gotten me ejected. They signed my picture on top of their images, and I noted that not one of them left their phone number or e-mail address. I think I need to lose 30 pounds and 30 years. Appealing to their intellect seemed doomed to be a failed strategy. Again, oh well.

A warning. If you go to one of these games, be prepared to stand in line if you want to eat dinner. However, my brother Rick and I found a bar fittingly named "Lucky's" which was nearly empty and had great subs. This will probably not work in the future as the place will be deluged by hordes of my readers, but give it a try anyway.

The best part of the night was the time I got to spend with Rick. My brother and I always see each other with tons of people, usually family, around. Several hours of one on one was terrific. He's really a great guy. More on that....

Later.