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Cal v. Oregon B-Ball Photo Essay I

Last week, the Grand Blue and Gold Sun Armies of the California Golden Blogs took control of the tundra formerly known as Addicted to Quack.  Renaming it all the much more civilized CGB North, we set up a puppet government in their main hamlet, Eugene.  To intimidate the locals, we put many of the heads of Seattle Quacker on pikes.  Looking across the great lands we had conquered, we surveyed the destruction before us and lo, it was good.

For our sole amusement on Saturday, we had many CGB North vassal-slaves brought down to "compete" in a "basketball" "match" against our fair warriors.  As we approached the Valhalla-esque Pavillion where the autumnal harvest festival "JamFest 09" was taking place, we had many concerns that Lieutenant Randle would be unable to play.  But those concerns were wiped out when we noticed The Great Oski had been overthrown:


NO!  The insurgency had struck again!  We must crush the freedom fighters before the start of the rainy season.  And remember, a shiny new donkey for whoever brings me the head of Colonel JShufelt.



"Oddly enough, locals then started beating The Great Oski with their shoes" via

The band and dance team were out there, entertaining the Jamfesters. 




Concerned that anarchy would break out with the insurgent attacks, we headed inside The Grand Pavilion to enjoy the competitive event.  On the way in, we saw, in no particular order:

1.  Nyan Boateng

2.  Bryan Anger (more on him later)

3.  Jim Barnett (fresh from announcing the LeBron dagger game).  I know Barnett played for Portland (or at least I believe I know).  Wasn't he also a Duck?

We got in just in time to see introductions:



Before I get to any game action, I want to show you this picture:




Why did I show you a photo of a series of seats?  That's the upper half of the section we tried to move to.  Our seats were way up in the corner, so we moved down as is the time-honored tradition.  As did my father before me and his father before him and his father before him.  Many immigrants came to this country, yearning to breathe free and sneak into better seats at local sporting events.

The lower portion of that section was, yknow, just as equally as packed as the upper section.  But as soon as we got in there, this one usher came running up to us.  She was frantic that we HAD to leave unless we had a wristband.


We moved 1 section over.  Just like 5 feet away and she left us alone.  So utterly inane.  I saw her harassing the ever-living daylights out of every person who went into that section.  She also later came up to me and, telling me that many people below had complained about me using the flash, told me never to use the flash again.  Which is a flat-out lie, because I only had used the flash once (accidentally) like an hour previous to the conversation.  I always take the flash off, generally using the shutter speed timer to find the right balance (about 1/80th to 1/100th of a second).  I just flashed a smile and agreed with everything she said, knowing I wouldn't be using the flash going forward.  But still.  That woman's life must be a generally miserable one, if she is so stringent about such inane things.  Perhaps she was Rishi.  She did declare me Sanchez after all.

Let it never be said that our merchant-warriors were not gracious to our CGB North brethren.


And with that the first half started.  I spent the entire first half from my unfortunately lofty perch (still less lofty than our original seats).  So, the photos are not quite as good as I would have liked.  The second half photos are much closer to the action.  But we always have this:



Randle surveys all before him and lo! declares it good.  Also, Sanchez:











I was fiddling with the shutter speed, trying to delete any blurs, but sometimes I wouldn't let in enough light:







Note that the Oregon jerseys have this odd green and yellow stripe down one side and only one side.  How ugly.  I'll conveniently ignore our one yellow stripe, while making this comment.


Remember when that child with developmental disabilities came into a high school b-ball game several years back?  The crowd went crazy and cheered wildly for his every move.  When he hit something like 8 3s in a row, it was sheer pandemonium.  The crowd treated Max Zhang like that kid.  When he came into the game, he was greeted with a wave of massive cheers:


Anytime he touched the ball, a ripple of electricity erupted through the crowd.  And when he actually scored 2 points (2!), the place went crazy.  Will we ever see Max Zhang with a real role on this team?  Who knows? But he is a fan favorite.  He is #14:


More game action.


Here Zhang comes in to defend a moment too late:


Phil Knight gives Oregon so much money that when they call a time out, their staff pretty much brings out a living room worth of gear for the team to relax on:


Zhang might box out!



Zhang shows the intensity he is known for:




Just in case that photo is insufficient, this one is helpfully marked:



Much Respected Grand Leader Tedford was present in the Pavilion!  Clearly, we had one goal and one goal only for halftime.  Find The Great Father to honk him!

Nah, I'm just joking.

Or am I?  Find out in the next exciting installment, Photo Essay II:  Second Half.

PS I am.  Sorry.  Even I'm not that stupid.  And I'm pretty stupid.  Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty stupid.