Join us for your new favorite podcast, The Oddball Show, our collaboration with the good folks at Oddball Magazine. Tonight we welcome author Timothy Gager on the program to talk about his book Grand Slams: A Coming of Eggs Story, the temperature of our current political climate, and the Celtics’ playoff-bound season.
It’s all right here, only on the #OddballShow.
He’s a prime time player at his best in the clutch when it matters most He’s not afraid to drive to the post Or pass the ball to his teammates, the consummate pro He’s a wizard with the basketball, you always have hope With The Little Guy You’re one fourth quarter away From heroics at their finest on the court when he plays Whether rotating on defense or slashing to the lane He’s a Giant among giants the way he plays the game He’s The Little Guy His heart more than makes up for his size As does his skill-set and will, there’s fire in his eyes He’s The Little Guy Money at the charity stripe And deadly from beyond the arc, he’s got so much fight And so much Pride The next great Celtic in Green Has earned right to lead the next great Celtics Teams Laser focus on the ring, raising Banner 18 He’s The Little Guy An All-Star living a dream
I was walking down the hallways
the other day
wearing a green scarf.
Someone yelled Slytherin Scarf!
And I said no,
It was Celtic Green.
Turns out it was a Slytherin Scarf!
But what does it mean to be Slytherin?
I don’t know
Neither does my wife.
She is Gryffindor.
I think I am whatever the road less
traveled would be.
Listen to Jazz.
Turn the radio off.
I am no Slytherin
I’m a kid on Ritalin
trying to get back in his skin again.
I am an anxiety-riddled queen, trying to get her kingdom to not overthrow her.
I am a magnificent animal,
wounded but glorious.
I am sick
but I have style.
I am lost,
and I am wild.
I am grown growling.
I am reminiscent of a lawn crying to be mowed.
But is mowed often.
I am a cold lozenge, I take when coughing.
And I am always coughing.
I am laughing but crying on my own island.
I am nothing but a lazy eye, slipped nipple.
I am Grafton Mass, I am Lake Ripple
where I grew up before I lost my little.
Where I grew up and that kid went missing.
Where the paths I walked were rocky for no reason.
Where I dreamed on my parent’s floor,
in a sleeping bag, with no nightmares,
No trouble sleeping.
Where I could feel nothing but air,
and I felt forever breathing.
Not drowning or feening for cigarettes or stealing stamps to write letters.
Does it feel better to reminisce knowing I am better/not better?
It does make me feel better knowing I maneuver this sea of paper, and write down my thoughts in linear fashion only to rip it out of my notebook, and throw
It out later.
Cry about it baby boomer, better father raise me better.
I wonder what its like to be better then the others,
But afraid of the TV and shadows.
being afraid of the guillotine and gallows,
but can write poems and good resumes, but she leaves me the morning after.
So my library of poetry grows bigger, and my pen’s ink is blacker,
The words flow faster, the mind sets fires.
But denies that I am high-wired/misfired/expired/manic/and tired.
But I’ll keep writing, and leave behind my words for you to wonder
what it’s like to write lightning, while still afraid of thunder.
P.S Hope Kanye feels better soon. Get Well Pablo.
Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine.
82 games have come and gone as have 3 rounds of Playoffs. Only the best two teams remain, the others have some days off. But for the Conference Champs all the hard work does have its payoffs. If you think the stakes get higher than The Finals, then you’re way off… Legacies are birthed and fortified, occasions risen to. Often Russel, often Jordan, also ‘Cooz and Pippen too. Dynasties or one chip wonders, the excitement is the same. ‘Cause to hoist Larry O’Brien’s trophy’s why they play the game. Ask the Celtics and the Lakers who have felt such joy the most. Ask the Bucks, Sixers, and Mavs of when they had their champion’s toast. When the Pistons won ’em back-to-back and Jordan’s Bulls three-peated. When the Rockets won a couple, and the Spurs couldn’t be defeated. Anfernee “Penny” Hardaway fell just short, Shaq and Kobe dominated. Shaq and Wade got it done, Lebron and Wade were truly hated. But they also got the job done, as did Chamberlain and West. Anything is possible! As KG roared pounding his chest. ‘Cause The Truth will set you free, and His Airness glides and soars. Beaten by a clutch Ray Allen three, but coming back for more. Fo’ Fo’ Fo’ predicted Moses and he damn near made it happen. Bird and Magic battled back and forth, assassin vs. assassin. It’s The Finals, many moments making memories galore. One team meets bitter defeat, but for the Champs legends are born. ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE!
For this week’s Twist of Lime, we bring you the latest edition of Scholar’s #SportsPoetry, “Why Not Us? A Rallying Cry for the 2015 Boston Celtics Playoff Push”. Find this and all things Lime at www.JPLimeProductions.com.
Why not the Celtics? Why not us?
Why can’t we make a playoff run?
Can’t Avery Bradley make the steal to seal the deal that steals Game One?
Why not Jea Crowder? Why not Smart?
Evan Turner, Michael Young!
Superstars they’re not just yet, but a well-coached and driven bunch…
Can play the role of underdog, embrace it and enhance their games…
A well-timed Tyler Zeller screen so Isaiah can drive the lane!
Brad Stevens calling plays out of timeouts that lead to scores…
A strong rebound by Brandon Bass as Pressey runs the floor…
Datome swings the ball to Jerebko for a big three!
While Sulli cheers in street clothes ’cause he’s all about the Team…
Why not us!?! yells Gerald Wallace as he dives for a loose ball…
Why not us? We all Bleed Green, Believe in Team, and Give Our All!
In a city full of Champions representing all the Banners…
…In a year where such an outcome is the longest of shots…
Still a playoff birth is worth it ’cause the Celtics always matter!
And to win a game or two would be a fun ride, would it not?
So let’s rally Celtics Nations, let’s all get behind our team!
Let’s play spoiler, clip the Hawks or possibly break Lebron’s dreams!
We know the personnel will change, Ainge plays the hand that’s best…
But they know too and still play hard despite not quite knowing what’s next…
In the playoffs every team has zero wins, a
So let’s go for it, enjoy it, back our team, and hope for the best!
Why not us? Why not the Celtics?
Sure, we know the squad is flawed…
But the Leprechaun can rise and help the Cs defy the odds…
There once was a town it seemed that was always cold. Even when it was warm it still was always cold.
The people were mean. The people weren’t green. The people weren’t clean. They all forgot their dreams and no one could sleep.
Not even sheep, could make them dream. They all had forgot there meaning, and what it meant to be free.
They lived their lives as shadows. they lived in poor man castles, some were drunk and staggered, and some were slaves in shackles.
They all had forgotten, what once was their motto,— to live in darkness, you could never cast a shadow, and in the darkness, shadows never follow
and when the light shines from the sun in the seasons, whether frost bitten hands, or those wearing mittens, the sun always shined on the ones who asked for wisdom
and one did….the lonely boy on christmas.
and this lonely boy just wanted one thing for christmas, a dog or a kitten, wrapped up with a ribbon, a bright blue ribbon. If he had a dog… he could pet him with his mittens and watch him chase pigeons, and play fetch with the children.
But it never happened, no gifts were given to him on this christmas.
or any christmas.
there he sat in the town of castles and shadows, where the cold seemed to sting, everyone and everything.
and he began to reminisce of his families last christmas, the last time he was given a kiss on his head, and that warm feeling he had, and the last words ever said by his dad.
“you must live by yourself we can no longer take care of you”
and he said to them “I’m just a boy…what do you expect me to do?”
but his father and mother, they didn’t love one another, and they didn’t really mean to say what they said, so one day they both got into their cars and left.
But before they left they both kissed him both on the cheek, and said
“I’m sorry son, that we have to leave. Here are the keys this is your very own castle. And never leave, always stay in the shadows. We will always be with you, but we must leave and we hope for your forgiveness
and then they had left the lonely boy on Christmas.
At the same time there was a young widow, who always sat by the window, with a sad glow, waiting for her husband to come home.
He and her, also lived in this world.
The world that was mentioned in part one, a world of no fun, where noone could smile in fear of being stung. because the cold was too cold, and some were too poor to buy coats, and besides,
the castles were hidden by shadows, and moats protected by ghosts, but still there was hope that her love would come home. and every day she wrote from a journal
that was given to her, from her husband who had disappeared, in the cold of the winter, and made her from married and happy, to a way too young widower.
Her name was Rosaline, and she was only eighteen when she found the man of her dreams. But one day he left to go to the store, and was never seen anymore, and
people had said that he had gone missing, in a cold storm, on a frosty Thanksgiving, and they stopped searching after a few weeks, cause noone could survive out in the
cold on those peaks. But Rosaline, never stopped looking out that window, till one day it started to snow. and then it suddenly stopped. And out from they sky an angel just dropped.
Before I tell you how the angel dropped, and why the snow stopped, we must go back to the spot where the boy sat patiently, waiting for the day, when his family
would come back, and how all he wanted was that dog for christmas, a little dog wrapped up with a bright blue ribbon, but really
gifts were not on his wish list, just a little slice of happiness, outside of all that darkness
That day the boy decided to leave, he said to himself, I’m going to get a tree, so he left his castle and stepped out of the shadows, and headed to the forest outside of
the meadow, and began a long walk out of the darkness and into an even darker forest. He could have went left, and went towards the shore, he decided to go
north, and ventured forth towards, the forest and the trees, and the bright north star. He knew little of where he was, but it was better then where he would be, and
besides it was christmas he wanted a tree.
Before he left, he dressed in his warmest clothes, hat and coat, and scarf to protect his nose, and the only possession he had with him, was a backpack of provisions,
and a compass, and a map. And off he went, and took his first step out of the darkness, while in that same town a widower wept.
Oh Where did he go, got lost in the snow? She sang to herself, while she sat by the window. Oh where did he go? And when will he return, to give me his love, I so desperately yearn”
She repeated these lines, like she was hypnotized, the saddest moment in a beautiful life. She was only 23 when he said good-bye and went out into that cold november winter, and was never seen alive, but keep faith good reader, a good love never dies.
“Oh where did he go? When will he return? why did you leave me, it wasnt your turn.” She sang this song in morning, she sang it still mourning, and that was when she realized, that her eyes were not blind, and in her heart she believed he was alive.
At the same time she sang by her window in that empty house, the compass was pointing telling the boy to go south.
But the map said that the meadow, was the way to go, but his heart told him to follow the star, and into the dark, he ventured in, to the deep forest, where
the trees lied there in.
Well dear reader, you must be weary of me, so let me tell you how the boy found his tree.
And also a brand new family.
It starts where we left, with the boy’s lonely trek, and ends, well were not quite there yet. So the boy began his climb into that deep forest, while the angels sang to him,
this simple chorus. Follow the star son, follow the star, follow the star son, follow the star. Yes, the boy was lonely and scared, for sure, but in his head and heart he
was strong and secure. People would leave him, for that he was sure, but never his family, that scar was the worst, and his head began to hurt. But before the tears
started to fall, he took a step and all of a sudden he was not by himself, and while he was down and thinking about life, he somehow had wandered onto the thinnest of
Oh reader, Oh me oh my, What did this boy do on that thinnest of ice. He walked oh so carefully, and he could hear the ice creak, and then there was the crack in the
ice he could see. He thought to himself, dang if I wasn’t thinking about all my problems, I might have seen this coming, and i could have done something, instead
of being stuck where I am, and then something happened.
The ice cracked, and splintered
and cracked, and splintered and cracked,
and the ice fell underneath his feet, and the boy was suddenly over his head, and while under the coldest degrees, he began to see,
Christmas wasn’t about getting presents or trees, it was about being happy. He was under the water gasping for air, trying desperately to be freed from a horrible death indeed ,
then at this moment
a hand reached out to him. And now enters the man, Jim, the widowers husband.
Hey Kid!! Hey Kid!! Can you hear me? Grab my hand! Hey Kid!! Hey Kid!! Can you hear me, grab my arm, I’ll pull you in. That was the voice of the widowers husband.
All the boy could hear was a muffled sound, but saw the arm, and tried desperately to get out. He grabbed the strange hand that had come from above, and Jim pulled
him out with the strongest of tugs. Jim pulled the boy off of the ice, and made sure that he was alright. Can you hear me kid?! Can you hear me?!
But the boy was barely breathing, cold and shivering. What could be done to save the lonely boy on Christmas?
Jim started a fire with some sticks around him, and hoped and prayed that something could heal him. But as the fire grew stronger, soon the boy breathed in, and looked into the eyes of the man that saved him.
And at this very moment, the widower was sleeping, and dreaming what seemed to be the same thing. It was about a boy who fell on a dark night of the thinnest of ice,
and her husband was surely alive, and saved this boy’s life.
The widower hadn’t left her house since her husband had disappeared, but she had to leave, her heart was telling her so, that she had to go, out of the darkness and
back into that snow. And as she left, she took a deep breath, and that was when she realized for the first time her self, that the darkness she lived in, this town, of castles
and shadows, there were more places to see, like the place in her dream. She visioned a stream, lit up by a bright star, and there she ventured out into the dark.
And there she sang.. My heart tells me to follow my dreams, and I will sing this song until he hears me. So she began singing. My heart tells me to follow my dreams,
andI will sing till my angel hears me. And just like that, the star lit up the whole place,
and though they were far apart, she could see his face. By the place in her dream, right by the stream, where she would find her Jim, and where she found…..me.
Yes I was the lonely boy on Christmas, but now that I have grown, I am no longer alone. My family, Rosaline and my father Jim, we live outside of the darkness, where the shadows live. And though you must find your own way, and sometimes follow that dream, to get the biggest tree, or play station three, all you really want is a good family, and maybe a dog. Like the dog that I have. But really in the end a mom and a dad, and people that love you. And believing that the right star will shine above you.
So there you have it.
Merry Christmas to all of you, and all of yours.May love and light unlock all your doors.