I said one intelligent thing yesterday, and forgot to write it in game notes.
I said in this space that Los Angeles coach Roberts and I crossed paths in a Staples Center tunnel, and when she asked me what I thought about the game coming, I said “duh”.
That’s what I said at the postgame press conference. (I identified my publication as “Utah Women’s Basketball Independent”. Later, a broadcaster said: “When you said ‘Utah’, I was, like, ‘whoa’.” “Coach and I go back to Pacific”, I said.)
I told Coach: “What I should have said was: ‘The Valkyries look like they’re closer to getting it together than the Sparks, but against the Mystics, they could look confused while defending the high screen. Did your staff also get that feeling after watching film, and if so, was there a plan to exploit that. My impression was ‘no’.” (I said I’d pay close attention for the Sparks setting high screens, and I made note of two instances, both of which produced 3-point field goals for Los Angeles. But only two, so perhaps I was wrong.)
Yes, said Roberts, but the Valkyries trapped Kelsey Plum (2-for-10 3FGM), and sagged off Odyssey Sims, daring her to shoot it (3-for-6 3FGM).
That’s how it goes for me. Someone asks me for an opinion, takes an hour to form one. I ask a useful question, and forget to report the answer.
***
At some point, you recognize “aging” as a euphemism for “dying”.
We learn the word “aging” as a schoolkid, and accept that everyone ages. Then you suss that the inevitable result of aging is dying.
We’re all dying; some of us are just think about lots more than we used to.
I used to think that as a writer, I’d benefit from aging — I’d have greater experience to call upon, and more practice dealing with people. I hate people, but dealing with them is another thing we must endure.
I’m partly right about that. I have more experience in the bank, but my recall isn’t the same. And I’m better with people, but there’s no evident difference — these days, I’m sincere about my caring about this person or that; in the past, I was sometimes faking it.
Aging has most noticeably affected my writing when I forget words. It disrupts the rhythm, and I think it shows (it *definitely* shows while I’m teaching chess, when the word I was heading toward just slips my mind, and I’m caught standing there).
Getting old has clearly ruined me as a chessplayer. I used to hear that the tradeoff for chessplayers is that we can’t calculate or visualize like we used to, but we gain wisdom and feel for position.
I’d trade the accumulated wisdom and positional feel for my vision as a 30-year-old in a heartbeat.