Why You Don't Want To Take A "Header"

 This is why you shouldn't hit your front brake too hard:

If Only He'd Done It On The Basketball Court

Being a New York Knicks fan during the 1990s had to be one of the most frustrating experiences in sports fandom.  Patrick Ewing was the Raymond Poulidor--"the Eternal Second" of basketball.  Just as Poulidor had the misfortune of having his career overlap with those of Jacques Anquetil and Eddy Mercx, Ewing entered the NBA only a year before Michael Jordan.

But MJ and the Bulls weren't the biggest source of frustration.  Everyone else lost to them, so there was no shame--and no surprise for, or hatred from,  the fans--when the Patrick and the Knicks couldn't grab the ring.  On the other hand, there was another player who, while he may not have been on Jordan's level (then again, who ever has been?), proved to be at least as much of a nemesis to the fellows from the Big Apple. 

Reggie Miller saved some of his most torrid scoring binges for games against the Knickerbockers, especially in the playoffs.  And, in contrast to MJ's efficiency and demeanor, Miller frequently punctuated his flashy play and dominant games with taunts and trash-talking.  So, Knicks fans really, really wanted to see him eat crow.

Well, they might have finally gotten their wish had they gone to Steamboat Springs, Colorado for the SBT GRVL race.  Though he has spent a lot of time on his bicycles since retiring from the NBA, and has participated in a wide variety of cycling events, he later admitted that he wasn't prepared for the Rocky Mountain race.

You see, he now lives--and does most of his cycling in the vicinity of--Malibu, California.  It stands 105 feet above sea level. Steamboat Springs is 7000 feet above sea level, and the course he chose--the second-toughest of four--included 6000 feet of climbing over 100 miles.

OK, I'll give him credit for doing the race.  But I wonder what Knicks fans would have given to see hear him admit defeat. Then again, I have to wonder whether Patrick Ewing, or even Michael Jordan, woulld or could have been more prepared.

Pedaling In Smoke

Two months ago, Canadian wildfires singed the sky orange in my hometown of New York City.  At times, you could actually smell—and see—smoke from the burning trees.

Such sights and smells didn’t enshroud the ride I took yesterday. I pedaled Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear, along familiar streets from my neighborhood to Brooklyn.  While my nose didn’t detect the scent of incinerated wood and my eyes didn’t pick up ash or unusual hues on the horizon, I could sense the aftermath of a fire before I literally encountered it.

On Sunday, a fire destroyed a row of stores at the intersection of Lee Avenue and Hooper Street, by the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. Most of the stores were closed, which is probably the reason why no one was hurt even as the stores and their contents were destroyed.

Still, such a disaster is particularly devastating for the Hasidic enclave of South Williamsburg. For one thing, the stores and the spaces they occupied were owned by members of the community, who were also nearly all of those establishments’ customers. For another, some of those stores sold the clothing and supplies kids will need as they return to school,  But most important, those stores catered to the specific needs and religious mandates of the community, particularly in food and clothing. (As an example, Halakhic law forbids the mixing of fabrics.) Those needs and requirements are sometimes difficult, if not impossible, to meet in other stores.

Anyway, I continued my ride. Sometimes it’s seemed as if I’ve been pedaling through smoke all summer.