Adam B. Swickle

Ed. note: This new column is about sports and the law. You can read the introductory installment here.

Last night, I was having trouble coming up with something to say in this space that begins the post. I think it’s called an introduction. I called up the only woman who doesn’t screen my calls and asked for her help.

Mama Juggs: Are you in trouble?
Juggs: No, mom. Christ, why would you ask me that? No, I’m finding it difficult to think up a story only tenuously related to sports that I can open my column with.
MJ: I don’t understand a word of what you just said.
J: My column, mom. On Above The Law. You said you’ve been reading it?
MJ: *silence*
J: Whatever. Mom, can you think of a sports-related story that’s mildly funny and has little-to-no point?
MJ: Do you remember how your father used to shoot free throws? God, you’d stand out there for hours rebounding for him. How many did he make in a row?
J: Something over 100. I don’t remember. Mom, that’s not a ripping yarn, you’d have to agree.
MJ: You were too young to remember this, but the way his teams ran defense at Lucky High. Oh God, it was poetry. Every motion had an order, but it was so fluid and graceful. It was intuitive, y’know? Your father was so proud of those boys.
J: This isn’t going anywhere, is it?
MJ: The team that took second at state was great, but it was actually the team after that that your father always claimed was the best he coached. I can still see him walking out onto the court with the boutonnière and he looked so impressive. Just striding onto that court with all the confidence in the world. I’ll have to see if I can find a picture. I know I have one around here. He looked so handsome, your dad did.
J: Didn’t he get kicked out of a lot of games for arguing with refs?

LET’S TALK SPORTS!

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