STILL HERE DROPS GAME TWO IN A HEARTBREAKER. LOSS BLAMED ON CLEAN CLOTHING.

There is a maxim in war that you never hear the bullet that gets you. There is a maxim in basketball --- or there is now --- that the nerdiest guy on the court is probably going to be the guy who kicks your ass in front of your wife and kids and emotionally scars you as an athlete for the rest of your life.

We scouted the team we played this morning when they played last night. They looked like a group of lounge singers and we would have bet the farm --- if one of us owned a farm --- that we could get by them easily.

Sadly, such was not the case. We took a big lead early but couldn’t hold on and lost by six.

Body parts continue to fall off the team. Bart is officially out from his Achilles injury. Damon also was unable to play more than a few minutes this morning and is down for the count having suffered what is either a low calf pull or the lowest strained groin in the history of basketball. J.T. has pulled something behind his knee. Rick has pulled a hamstring. The game this afternoon, which is a must win, will be tough. Another bunch of lounge singers, but we’ve not had notable success against such teams.

Actually, and without naming names --- it is the consensus of STILL HERE that our loss today is directly attributable to the fact that ONE --- only one --- just one --- a single guy --- a solitary individual ---- actually changed into a CLEAN uniform after last night’s victory. Again --- I will not reveal the fact that this man was Paul Stallings. WIld horses will not drag from me the name of Paul Stallings. I will go to my grave with the secret that Paul Stallings changed into a clean uniform for this morning’s game.

It is a cardinal rule of Old Man basketball that after a win, the stench that permeates the team bus is the smell of VICTORY. Good karma is not to be messed with. Lady Luck demands that rank, crusty underwear remain unchanged. Socks must not even be reversed. The Basketball Gods have little tolerance in these matters. Clean up the smallest stain, flick off the smallest crumb of dried snot from a winning jersey, and it will most certainly create a Butterfly Effect resulting not only in the loss of your next game, but your children will all instantly become ugly, your wife will leave you for another woman, and the French will conquer the planet. Far better to reek like aged Alpine cheese. It is a small price to pay for glory.