With less than a week left in the first decade of the 21st century -- only the second full decade of my life -- and just slightly more than two years left until the end of the world, I've been reflecting on my decade in sports. I long ago came to the conclusion that I'm not athletic and my teams are terrible, but, upon additional review, I'm not even sure Enron had a worse decade than me. My sports-decade has been one big fucking facepalm, so much so that it was worthy of that crappy alliteration.
In March of 2002, I won the St. Margaret Mary three-point shootout. I was, theoretically, the best eighth grade three-point shooter in the city that attended a Catholic grade school*. Sometime after that, the Creighton Bluejays upset fifth-seeded Florida in the first round of the NCAA Tournament. I was riding high.
