Basketball Chronicles: My Name is My Name

*Word to Marlo Stansfield*

I don't know what it is about Sunday morning hoop sessions that test my baby gangster...but it was tested once again this past Sunday.

It was the last or second-to-last game of the hoop session.  A guy comes in to replace one of my teammates.  One of my teammates points out everyone on our team:

Jerk:  It's me, [name], [name], [name], and "the girl"
One of the NAMED fellas:  Why does she have to be "the girl"?
Me:  I have a name.  It's Kenya.
Jerk:  It's easier to say "the girl".
Me:  No, it's easier to say "Kenya."
Jerk:  He might not know who "Kenya" is.
Me:  Everybody in here knows who I am. I'm the only lady in here on Sundays.

After the game, he tries to explain why he said "the girl."

Jerk:  I said "the girl" because he may not have known who "Kenya" is.
Me:  But my name is, usually, for a female.  If he heard the name, he would think "Oh, the lady on the court."
Jerk:  I wasn't thinking like that.

Obviously.

There is no logical explanation for referring to me as anything except "Kenya".  Especially since I've been a Sunday regular the past year and a half.

Stupid ish like this is why I stopped hooping on Sundays, for about 3 months.  I felt like my time was being wasted (If certain folk aren't on maugs' team, they don't want to play right) and my game wasn't being respected.  Not only do I have to be strong, physically; I have to be mentally strong, as well.

K to the...

P.S.  Young Money still has no post moves and still can't score on me.  More proof that height and lifting weights don't mean ish if you don't know how to use it.

Swank!

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