Soob

Some years ago I was drunk out on the town in Toowoomba, which is a large country town where men are men, women are men and pubs have metal tables and chairs that are welded to the floor. Anyway, I remember sitting blind drunk eating my Subway sandwich, waiting to catch a taxi back to the barracks, and this drunken citizen of Toowoomba starts to pick a fight with me. One of his lines was "Look at your hands mate, you don't look like you've worked a day in your life". That line put me in a fit of hysterics. Luckily my mates turned up, I told them about it, and they all had a good chuckle at him too. That line served me well over a few years. I remember digging pits in the middle of the bush whilst it is was pissing down with rain and one of my mates would turn around to me and say "Look at those hands, you don't look like you've worked a day in your life".

Anyway, it is with the same spirit that I found this series of entries by a fictional Hemingway who writes about College Basketball teams (via 3quarks daily). The first entry is reminiscent of that same drunken Yobbo from years back:

North Carolina Tar Heels

Roy Williams is soft. His hands look manicured. They have never pulled tobacco from the dirt. He has never gutted a fish fresh from the sea. Soldiers shoot soft men in the back rather than follow them into battle. Williams should look out. He should watch his back. But junior forward Tyler Hansbrough is a 2-ton bull in baby-blue shorts. When he broke his nose last year, he saw red. He charged. His horns went down and gored opposing players. I would fight with this man. I would die for him. If a bullet met him, I would cradle his head till he left this earth. After the platoon's soldiers shoot Roy Williams in the back, they'll follow Sergeant Hansbrough into combat. Hansbrough and UNC charge to the Elite Eight.