It has been a long time since I graced this pages with utterances that are utterly useless. Needless to say it has been a fruitless few weeks with nothing much to write home (or on this blog, for that matter) about. However, today's chance spotting and immediate handshaking deserve a little mention.
As I was innocently trying to figure out whether the new James Patterson book is even worth putting up on the shelf, I pass by this dude who was much taller than me, wearing an Oakland Athletics cap. Then a very supporting-character-in-a-romantic-comedy happened and I stopped in my tracks and literally retraced my steps. Holy fucking shit. Could he be? No way, right? But he is. It's Paul Pierce. The MVP of the Finals. The Man. The Truth.
Throwing away the shit that was in my hands and pushing away little children trying to grab the newly-arrived Horse webkinz, I made my way towards the man I have admired all these years, from late night rebroadcast games on Sky Sports in England to Channel 52 here in Boston. But, I had to be sure.
Gurur: "Dude. You're Paul Pierce, right?"
The Truth: "Call me Champ"
He walks away, I stand there wide-eyed... Awesome.
Last but not least, a moment of Zen. I have mentioned this to none other than Mr. Wheeler Maidrand Crowley today: 3 months in L.A. and the most famous person I've seen is Tony Shalhoub (great actor, by the way) and 3 weeks working at a bookstore at Logan Airport and I have already spotted Counting Crows and Paul Pierce. Go figure.