On several occasions when I was a teenager, my parents gave me the option of either going on a summer trip to a foreign country or attending a weeklong basketball camp. I always chose the basketball camp.
Looking back, I may have been shortsighted with those decisions since my parents took fantastic trips to places like Portugal, Spain, and Italy. My basketball camps, on the other hand, were held maybe an hour or two away on beaten-down college campuses.
The fact was, I loved basketball. I loved it so much that I spent all my free time playing the sport. And if I had the opportunity to stay overnight for a week playing the game day and night with a bunch of other guys who also loved basketball, then you can bet I was going to do it.
And as much as I loved my parents, the idea of spending a week with them wandering around museums and sightseeing in foreign cities didn’t sound appealing. (Ironically, now I can’t think of anything I’d rather do more than wander through a museum for an entire day.)
I now look back and think that I could have done without one or two of those camps just to have witnessed some of the things my parents saw; epic feats of human art and ingenuity like the Colosseum in Rome and the Sagrada Familia in Spain.
In a funny twist of fate, I grew up and had my own son. And he just happens to be a basketball fanatic too. In fact, he loves the sport so much that he spends most of his free time playing. And when we asked him last summer if he was interested in taking a family trip to Italy, he immediately balked, claiming that it would interfere with the basketball camp that he was looking forward to attending.
My wife wanted to override his decision and force him to go, but I understood where he was at, so I conceded to his wishes.
So, last summer I played a lot of golf, my wife played a lot of tennis, and my son played a lot of basketball.
It’s always exhilarating to drop your kid off at a sleepover camp. It’s fun to see the excitement on their faces while also knowing that you’re on the verge of a week with far fewer responsibilities. The only problem is, our son almost always comes home from camp sick.
We used to get concerned, but now we just expect it. After all, he’s being physically exhausted for most of the day, eating junk food for every meal, barely showering, and avoiding sleep at all costs. If there was ever a recipe for getting sick, that most certainly is it.
On almost every occasion that I’ve picked up my son from a sports camp, he’s asleep in the backseat before we get out of the parking lot.
During his last camp, I went into the gym for the final assembly and met his coach. My son had told me during the week that his coach was a former NBA player. I initially didn’t believe him, but with a little research, I found out that he did play a few seasons in the NBA, but spent most of his career as a journeyman player in Europe.
My son walked me over and introduced me and I was immediately awestruck by this gentleman’s size. He stood at a gargantuan 6’10” and was easily 280 pounds of muscle. When he shook my hand, it felt like someone was wrapping a baseball glove around my lower arm. And even though I’m over 6 feet tall, my neck actually hurt staring up at him.
This was the first time in my life that I felt like another human could snap me in half without much effort.
The experience reminded me of my wife’s common complaint that she doesn’t like crowds because, being barely 5 feet tall, she feels intimidated being around so many larger people (which is almost everyone compared to her). I always thought she was being silly until I met my son’s coach. Now I get it.
Speaking of silly, this week’s feature, “Freelance” starring John Cena and Alison Brie, might be the silliest waste of time I’ve had at the theater in years. I can usually put up with some bad movies, but this one was bordering on painful.
John Cena portrays an ex-military operative who’s switched to a humble desk job. However, an opportunity arises for Cena to take a freelance gig escorting a journalist while she interviews a South American dictator. Things don’t go as planned (shocker) and the three find themselves maneuvering through the jungles trying to stay alive.
There are “bad” movies and then there are “BAD,” movies, but this one is “REALLY BAD.”Cena can be funny, but this vehicle did not play to his comedic sensibilities. Besides that, this film failed on nearly every front, from the screenwriting to the acting to the dismal storyline. If you’ve got theater dollars to spend, cross this one off your “must-see” list immediately.
A dismal “D” for “Freelance,” now playing in theaters everywhere.
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