forty-nine

The Bulls are playing in the third game of the series against Indiana in the first round of the NBA playoffs. Earlier today it was my brother's birthday wish for me that they win for my birthday. The Sox are losing. The Hawks are almost done. It's up to the Bulls to give me a winning team for my 49th year. And my year is balancing on a 54-54 game at :55.4. It is appropriate that this is the case. I do not control my destiny. It is left to fate. To the performance of men that I do not know. I accept this because I know sport. I am a fan. I know the superstition of the game, and I worry that my year won't be that great if the Bulls don't win tonight. What? A whole year's luck based on a professional sport?! Que?! Si. It may as well be that than anything. Recently walking down a busy city street a woman looking for customers said to me, 'sweetie, why don't you come, I'll give you a reading.' Sweetie, I think now, my reading for the next year is at :17.8. I bet on that more than your cards. More than your gypsy skirt and Eastern European accent. Men in shorts will tell me what my year will be. :1.1.  Bulls up by two. Foul. Shot. 87-84 Bulls. Second foul shot. Made. 88-84. They are shooting under 40% but are still up. Bulls win. It will be a good year for me. Even if I shoot at 40%.