my body hurts so, so badly.

I can’t stand up straight. Part of it is physical, because all of this stress and tension and emotion has literally manifested itself as horrible muscular pain. And, of course, part of it is serious dejection.

I thought, in those last three minutes before we went into overtime, that we had it.

I counted my chickens.



Sometimes when I walk down the street streetlights flicker or go on and off when I think of certain things or get angry or sad. Tonight literally every second or third street light went off. One of them sizzled out with this loud pop and made sparks.



But you know what, Memphis? I know that electricity can’t be gone. The city can’t lose this unity and this fever over one loss. We are still 38 and 2. We are still a city of folks who united over the fact that the entire country was judging our basketball team for having tattoos, for talking in thug slang, for being from the inner city, for wearing their hats to the side.

Basically, the whole country thought we weren’t shit because our Tigers are black- and stereotypically so at that. And we stuck by them and we defended them and we pulled for them to win it all. And we didn’t do this because we wanted to win. We did it because we knew it was fucked up and wrong.

We did it because we fell in love, and because that love made us question everything we’ve ever had drilled into our heads. And if we were wrong about "these types of young men", we might just be wrong about everything else, too.

It might just be time to let some shit go and to move on.



Don’t forget about this, friends. Don’t forget about how far we have come in a handful of months.


Don’t drop the ball. Please.