On Saturday, I arrived in Berkeley several hours before the scheduled surprise party for Mike and Sam, hoping to catch up with friends prior to the main event.  To my disappointment, it seemed that most of the people were out watching Transformers or busy with something else.  I thought about just finding a shaded spot and napping the time away, but the idea of driving all the way to Berkeley only to use up my time napping seemed unacceptable, especially since I passed up on The Proposal to come up early (shucks).  Instead, I opted for some Berkeley culture immersion by playing basketball in People's Park.

As a side note, I experienced a basketball renaissance this past Friday.  I was at the Oracle gym Friday afternoon, and some time between the 2nd and 3rd game, something clicked.  I started shooting extremely well, nailing like 6 shots in a row from all over the floor, and around 10 out of 11.  I seriously felt like I couldn't miss during that stretch.  I'd glance left and right, throw up a shot, and magically it'd go in every time!  The one other time in my life I felt like this was when I was shooting free throws with Pika and made 13 in a row.

Ever since that happened, I've been wanting to go play again to see if that accuracy was merely a fluke.  I struggled with the idea only because I knew I'd sweat and become a noisome presence at the party, but I decided that risking the others' discomfort was a chance I was willing to take (If you were there and smelled feet, I'll confess and apologize for it ).  Surprisingly, my shot was still continuing to fall!!  Despite the merciless triple rim at People's Park, I swished my first 5 or so shots and continued with a respectable percentage thereafter.  I felt like I could earn the respect of any ghetto hoopster around.  While I was strutting around like the alpha male of People's Park, this guy with blood streaming from his face and smeared across his bare chest walked across the court, and I woke from my reverie with the realization that it'd take more than a jump shot to fit in with this crowd.

Various people joined me in shooting around over the course of the afternoon.  I met a guy named Christian and two social workers named John and Wayne.  These two were previous addicts that are now clean and helping to educate the homeless guys in People's Park.  John, presumably a Native American, was pretty raw offensively, but Wayne, the 250 lb. black guy, was actually really good.  We played 3 games of 21 with constant bantering and trash talking and had a lot of fun.  Later, as I walked along Telegraph, I saw Christian again, and we talked some more.  He even asked if I had a myspace.

Despite being at Berkeley for 4 years, I don't think I had as many such encounters with strangers as I did in one short afternoon on this torrid summer day.  When I'm always hurrying past homeless guys, going from point A to point B, I don't have time to register their needs.  It's not until I slowed down, made myself available, listened to one man's story, that I began to feel some compassion.  I've been praying that God would make me more loving, but I also realized that, contrary to Hollywood's depiction, love isn't just an emotion that wells up spontaneously and overwhelms one's senses.  Love is simply a commitment to care.

Enough about my love story.  I met up with a few others at Steph Chen's apartment to wait for the homecoming of the happy couple.  After surprising them, we pried story after story from them and watched the momentous facebook relationship status change take place live.  Steven soon arrived with the rest of the Crossroaders, whereupon Mike and Sam were forced to share their stories again.  It's always great to partake in others' happiness.