Los Tres Pioneers: Bus Rides...

Bus rides. Oh, bus rides. Every athlete – actually just about every human being – has taken them before. The short, quick ride to school. The manageable ride out to Hinkley Lake during Summer Camp at Roxboro Middle School. And even the long, dreadful, marathonesque trips like, say, from Barcelona to Madrid and back all within 26 hours.

As we got on the bus at 5 AM Saturday morning it was quite the peculiar feeling. This was the only time we had seen Barcelona at this hour and not been, well, “having a good time”. While we might have been miserable, our teammates were as happy and alert as ever. Jokes and stories were flying around as if we had just won a game. Once everyone had sucked down the last little but of nicotine they would inhale for the next few hours we were off. Surprisingly enough, I was able to sleep for the first few hours. We made our first stop at a restaurant sometime around mid-morning. Unbeknownst to us at the time, but the Spanish government required that every 3 hours the bus driver has to pull over for a 45 minute break. I don’t care what you think or where you’re from, that rule is flat out ridiculous. You’re telling me that a 5-6 hour bus ride has to become a 7-9 hour bus ride because our bus driver has to stop twice for 45 minutes to light up half a pack and drink coffee? Sheeeeeiiiiitttttttt…

Anyways, after the food stop we were back on the road and it was time to pop in the obligatory pre-game movie – Any Given Sunday! I’ve probably seen AGS at least 50 times, and just about every view came on a bus ride. However, this would be the first time I would see it in Spanish. Let me tell you, the power and intensity of the “Inches Speech” becomes pretty laughable when Al Pacino is speaking Spanish. It was read more like an Iberian love sonnet than the passion fueled, inspirational masterpiece that it is in English. We kept rolling along and before we knew it, it was time for another 45-minute break and food. After eating my pre-made penne and chicken, we were on the road only an hour away from Madrid.

Our opponents were the Madrid Black Demons. We won the game in a blowout, 53-12, scoring most of those points in the first half. Per usual, A-Rob had a big day. He threw for 4 scores and ran a QB sneak for 1. It was quite the aerial assault – every time I looked up from the sidelines there was a ball soaring at least 40 yards down the field to one of our receivers. Shef couldn’t reach paydirt this week, but had a few big catches and some impressive gains. As for me, I had a relatively quiet day. They didn’t run too much and except for one series in the first half, they went 3-and-out. A-rob didn’t even play the second half while Shef and I played sparingly in the 3^rd quarter and sat out the fourth. It provided us a great opportunity to get some of the backups in and get some game time reps. After the game, we showered and got dressed quickly in hopes of getting home before the sun came up.

The beginning of the ride was great. Everyone was happy after the big win and I even fell asleep for a little bit until we stopped for food. After we stuffed our faces with sandwiches and beers, we grabbed a few bottles of wine for the road and got back on the bus. I figured the wine would help me fall asleep, but as I sipped and listened to my iPod it had the opposite effect on me. I could not fall asleep at all. Everyone else had managed to pass out - on the floor, sitting up, leaning forward - all of my teammates were out cold. I managed to get a whole row to myself and laid down to try again. Despite my inability to fall asleep, we were getting closer to home and that brought some comfort. That comfort was immediately extinguished when we stopped for our last 45-minute break - a mere 60 kilometers from Barca. I was furious, Shef was defeated, and A-Rob seemed to find some joy and energy from all this claiming, “Hey, I might get a workout in when we get back at 6 in the morning! What do you guys think?” Our responses were laden with expletives and accompanied by looks of disgust. We wanted on thing and one thing only – our beds.

Finally, we made it back to Bellvitge (where the bus departed), hoped on the metro and rumbled up the three flights to our flat. Just before 7AM on Sunday we collapsed into our beds.

After sleeping for much of the day we got up to go see the Juniors play. Getting a chance to coach them has been one of the best parts about our experience so far. There are some talented kids here and they are all eager to learn more about the game. Even though it is fun watching them do the Oklahoma drill repeatedly, it has been much more rewarding getting to know the kids a little bit. They probably don’t realize it, but were having just as much fun as they are.

We’ve since recovered from the game and are eagerly awaiting our next game tomorrow against the other Madrid team, the Osos. We’ve seen some film on them and they look pretty good, but were rollin right now and I think we can keep it up.

In other news, Barcelona is still awesome. Despite the fact that sidewalks here are literally dog poop minefields, we still very much enjoy walking around the city checking out whatever peeks our interest at the time. Shef and I both got our first Euro-haircuts successfully without any issues. I found a British barbershop with a fetching, young Englishwoman who cut my hair just as I asked while Shef opted for a Turkish 4 euro-a-cut place. Call me old fashioned, but I like speaking the same language as my barber.

Some of the comments have asked for more pictures. You want pictures? Ask and you shall receive. There are some below – mostly just a smorgasbord of photos off my phone. I even threw a few videos up too (hopefully they work). One is a kick off against Valencia and the other is a little highlight tape I made from the Junior game on Sunday. Enjoy!

Rafa just knocked on the door - time for his weekly lecture on Spain’s triumphs and the rest of the world’s shortcomings. Always entertaining.

Adios!

-Pau