Touchdown City

Some time in between filing my game story from inside a greasy stadium concession stand and being woken up by a high school football mom while taking a nap in the stands, it hit me.

High school football on this island ain't too shabby.

The U.S. Virgin Islands high school territorial IAA varsity tackle football game (that's a long title for a game played in the outfield of a baseball stadium) was held this week and the timing was not ideal for this dizzy sports scribe.

I'm was totally consumed by the annual Paradise Jam basketball tournaments and the football game was penciled in between the men's and women's tourneys. That's why I stretched out on the top bleacher, relaxed my eyes and took a nap during the JV All-Star game.

"Hey, I know you," the mom said as she sort of nudged my knee. "You're the guy who went to Florida or Mexico or something. The guy from the paper..."

My mumbled response sounded like, "Yes, that's me. Is that why you woke me up?"

Gridiron Mama: "Oh, I just wanted to let you know that you have a following here. I enjoyed your articles. Are you covering this game?"

Lethargic writer: "Yup, front-page exclusive."

Gridiron Mama (not taking a hint): "That's good. These boys are the future of football here."

The future? What was this woman talking about? They don't even play with field goal posts here. A lot of my friends are bewildered by that fact. The simple response is they go for a 2-point conversion every time. Opening kickoffs are laughable (and that's if they stay in bounds).

I'm supposed to talk to my boy Linval Joseph about that next month. I call him my boy because it sounds cool. The truth is I've met him in person only once and we've talked on the phone a few times.

Joseph plays for the New York (football) Giants and he is from St. Croix. He asked me last year what he could do to help out football back home. He wanted to do something different compared to the normal "giving back" tactics. New uniforms, pads, a sponsored all-star game -- all things the USVI players desperately need -- were off the list. He asked me to thing outside the box.

"Three words," I told Linval. "Field goal posts."

He was amazed they didn't play with them. I told him that by comparison, it was a success if a game even kicked off within two hours of its scheduled start time of if the stadium lights actually worked.

Linval laughed at my antics but I assured him that I was telling the truth and it was a bad scene back on the islands. They need his help. I'm going to see him again soon and will tighten the screws on his alleged hometown commitment.

After the mom left me alone, I went back to sleep until the varsity championship. Charlotte Amalie High won its sixth straight title, 38-20. Moments after the game, players from both teams joined the cheerleaders for an impromptu dance party on the 50-yard line.

I thought that was hilarious. They didn't have any field goal posts they could tear down in celebration so a little grinding with the booty-happy cheerleaders sufficed.

No-talent ass clown

Let me rub my eyes and look around. Yup, I'm still on island.

It's been a crazy last few days and I apologize for the blogging lapse. Now that a severe Paradise Jam hangover has dissipated, I'm back in action and ready to get weird.

Speaking of the PJ, it generated close to $2 million for the USVI so you know I worked my ass off (I would link up the economy boost story I wrote but for some reason, it wasn't published online. Go figure).

The tourneys wrapped up about a week ago and consumed my Thanksgiving.

While my girlfriend celebrated with 39 friends grubbing on four different turkeys, I sat on press row for four consecutive Division I women's basketball games and didn't even get a whiff of cranberry sauce. It was pure bliss and the games were action-packed. No ... I'm being serious.

But on the final day of the 10-day tourney and as I was walking out of the gym faithfully with my over-heated laptop in tow, one of the tournament directors left me with a few kind words...

"Don't say anything mean about us in your blog," she said.

Instead of scurrying to the nearest pub like I did after every 10-hour day spent at the tourney, I was taken aback.

"Whaaaaa?" I asked, with those little thirsty white deposits sticking to the corners of my mouth.

"Oh," she said. "I'm a little embarassed to tell you this but I Googled you before we came down."

That's funny. I've googled myself a few times -- shut up, don't act like you've never done it -- and that no-talent ass clown in the NBA is the only thing that comes up.

He is one of few American-born white players in the Association but he still sucks. The "Aaron Gray" realm belongs to me.

Anyway, back to my story. Of course, I briefly chastised the tournament lady for stalking me online but I also thanked her for reading.

"It's always a pleasure running into a fan," I said.

So for the record, the 11th annual Paradise Jam men's and women's basketball tournaments held at the University of Virgin Islands from Nov. 19 through Nov. 27 were thrilling to witness. America's basketball elite gathered on St. Thomas for that memorable week (Don't forget: I ate no turkey, gravy or mashed potatoes) and a joyous time was had by any non-V.I. resident who shelled out $35 to get in the door.

Since then, I have been busy with other life projects. I'll get into those tidbits tomorrow because at the moment, I am done with work, tired and thirsty.

A sweet trio indeed.