A Gray Matter
Oh, they’re there. In fact, sometimes, in the middle of the night, I swear I can feel them carousing with one another, playing the blues while smoking tiny cigarettes sidled up to a tiny bar, exchanging stories about their midlife crises, their rites of passage.
No. 1: “Yep, that was me — all black and curly, in the prime of my life, and then the Nets went up against Miami and didn’t win a single game.”
No. 16: “Huh, you think that’s something? That was me last winter, fresh from a cut, feeling good, svelte even, appreciating the chill in the air. And then the Giants turned the team over to the rookie quarterback and we went on to go “0-for” the rest of the season. I was no good after that.”
Those are the stories of a select few of New York’s Bravest — strands of hair, that is.
They were once vibrant, colorful members of society, only to turn old and gray in a matter of moments, now limited to telling tales of teams fallin’ like an Alicia Keys song. Now they’re barely alive, not so much on top of their game as they are on top of my head.
Never has “rooting” for the home team taken on such literal meaning. (more…)
