syracuse

Yes, Roosevelt Bouie is an angel. There he is, afro so big it could barely fit in the Manley Field House.

Do I want to live in Syracuse? Frankly, its a very complicated question. For years I would joke/offer my wife with the 'we could always live in Syracuse' threat when we'd be suffering through some City-based indignity (I sound like Gordon, from the Island of Sodor). But, yes, yes, with age, there have been real moments during which I truly, truly think it would be fine. The town I grew up in has some great families, kids, a lake, a school system that got me and others (on a consistent basis) into a pretty good college, sports, fresh air, incredible (and incredibly cheap) houses, room and space to meander and wander.

And then Syracuse as a city, well, it depends on the lens. Look at it this way, a friend and I have an ongoing discussion about Maplewood and, the other day, I threw in the fact that I like that Maplewood was next to Newark. That I would use Newark - Portugese cuisine, for one. That Newark was an asset. And then he said that, true, one could totally look at it that way. And one could, well, one could also look at it as, well, as a BLEAK WASTELAND. Yep. Point taken.

Syracuse has these entire neigborhoods in, and close to, downtown made up entirely of beautiful, chicago-style brick warehouses that in any other city would have been converted into a new scene or artists lofts or something. But they sit, abandoned, and wait. The North End, traditionally Italian (Aunt Josies was a red sauce joint my father and mother used to go to on occasion that is directly out of Goodfellas) is this once glamorous boulevard now lined with dive bars, strip joints, and liquor stores, one after the other. And the dive bars are real dive bars. Scary dive bars. And the strip clubs are broken down frame houses where you can get a serious STD and an 8-ball of baby laxative, cheap. The city is one third in the grave, one third historic, and one third university town. Christ, it would be easy. Affordable. Less stressful. Right? And when my friend Scott talks about his kid skiing her heart out all day with her friends at the little ski mountain we grew up on, or out on the lake in the summer, it makes it seem really, really nice.

The answer to the question is always no, though. I doubt it would weigh at all on my shoulders if we lived somewhere else. It's just living in this fucking town that makes me wonder.

Syracuse (now #4 in the country!) demolished Georgetown last night. A stunning show of force. Better yet, it was great to talk on the rivalry that has been lying dormant for 20 odd years and originated when the Hoyas won the final game played at Manley Field House (John Thompson claimed, "Manley Field House is officially closed!" and was nearly attacked by an angry mob of dorks with nasal accents before getting on the bus back to DC). I saw basically the same team (Louie, Bouie, Head, Schayes, Shackleford) play a couple of seasons before, at Manley, with my father. An easy blowout of a not so good Colgate University, but Roosevelt Bouie dunked. And it was a SERIOUS dunk. Monstrous. Earth-shattering. And, more importantly, it was a memorable, fantastic day. I was 7 years old.

A couple of years later Georgetown beats Syracuse to close down Manley, two weeks after that my father dies suddenly, so, you know, all these questions matter.

Roosevelt Bouie matters.

It all matters.