Lance Allred the official website of the Lance Allred who is not the professional Poker player

Brave New World-

It seems I write faster than what the publishing world is ready to publish…. so, I have been having some ideas, dreams even of just publishing myself, and lining it up through kindle/amazon , and eventually through the ipad and other areas. I am furthermore looking through publishing in adobe format, that people can buy and read, and print out on their own printer, if they so choose to, if reading on a digital screen becomes too taxing on their eyes.
Sure, I would love my books to be….. solid books, published by the conventional means. But this digital route this allows me to write at my own pace.
Whereas, while I have been waiting for publisher moves on my other books, I have grown stagnant, and even disinterested in writing, but if I take my own initiative here, I can churn out as much as I like, when I like, still holding the possibility for future publishing houses to pick up my books at later dates.
Soon to come, within the next month, God and Shield.
My historical fiction that I have been working on, off and on, for over 5 years. It is my baby. Based on several true characters, some tied together at my own convenience for purposes of story, between the years 1297 and 1302 AD, the main character travels the european landscape as an errant knight, eventually joining the Teutonic Order, the German based Christian Military Order which crusaded in the Pagan lands of modern day Poland, Lithuania and Russia.
Look for it soon, with details forthcoming of where and how to purchase.

No Man’s Land-

I probably had my worst game of the season tonight.
Just as I was finally beginning to get my rhythm and shooting with confidence, the all-star break came last weekend and we had 10 days off between our next game. The first day back of practice I sprained my ankle.

I have played on far worse, so I figured it was no biggie and I went and played tonight, and was just God-awful. Awful. I missed my first few shots to the left, as I favored my ankle when I jumped and leaned left, thus explaining why I missed it. But then after that, I started thinking, and then I started aiming, rather than just shooting the ball. The flow had left me.

I came home and all the old negative patterns of thought and post-game analysis in my head returned, for the first time in a long time. I started to care again, but for the wrong reasons.

I still care in that I still care about winning. I don’t play basketball to get my ass kicked in front of thousands of people. No, I still play to win. That much I know.

But tonight I started to care, like the Lance of old, and beat myself up, especially over the 2 airballs I shot tonight, and thought, how much did I embarrass myself in front of all of those people, those fans of the home crowd tonight? And furthermore, how bad did I look to scouts if they were watching… And then I stopped myself. It was the first time, in a long time, that I allowed myself to play that game in my mind. I know myself well enough to know that my ego had returned tonight, in full force.
It is still ok to car for my own pleasure and wanting to play well, because I enjoy playing; this is a good kind of caring. But caring what others say or think, or caring for their validation, is purely egoic, my ego, wanting to feel superior, to feel coddled. And when my ego becomes the basketball player, and not me, I forget why I even play in the first place, why I even started to play when I was young- because I enjoyed it.

But when the ego is the one on the court, I am playing for validation, recognition, flattery, and while those may all help me find success from time to time, at the end of the day, it all ends with some sort of suffering, some sort of lack, because all of those things are meaningless in the end, all of those things fade away. The one thing that will never fade, is my sense of self.

I don’t say much anymore, not nearly as much as I used to, because the watcher in me is so alert for the ego, that I feel almost uncomfortable to say anything, watching for bits of the ego creeping into my thoughts, needing to feel separate and unique.

“Why do I need to say this?” I ask myself all the time now. “What will it get me? Am I only saying it to feel special, unique? To gain respect or admiration from another? If so, then that is lacking in humility, and purely of egoic nature.”

And so, I seem to be lost somewhere in a no-man’s land. Still living in a world of basketball, but no longer enamored with all the glitz and glamour of the western world, and those fleeting material possessions, which always fade away, always. I have been to the top, and I saw it, and it has no appeal to me anymore, for it is a world of pain, of egoic consumption, with more, more, more and then some more needed, the ego believes and then it will truly be happy….. but once you get what you want, that elusive destination or possession that you believed would make you happy, it quickly fades. And once again you are swallowed up in the illusion of another possession needed to fill the void within ourselves, believing that will make you happy.

IF you study atoms, it can be argued that everything is an illusion. The atoms in our bodies, are made up of 99.99% space, such is the ratio of the nucleus of the atom to the electrons that circumvent it. The .01% percent is then only felt on a material level in which human body can process. Everything else, is space, filled in by the human mind with its 5 senses. When you see the world this way, you kind of see yourself in a cosmic joke, but not a sad one. And when everyting around us, is thus an illusion, then the only thing that truly exists, is the consciousness in our minds, the Being, that each of us Is.

I was living in the past for a few hours tonight, and I was unhappy. It is only in the present moment, this moment that I have right now, as I type, that I can find happiness. For Now, this moment, is all that I have. The future does not exist, until it exists, and when it does, it will be Now. But until, it does not exist, so why should I hope to find happiness in a place that does not exist? The only place that does exist is now, and therefore the only place I can find happiness, is Now.

I can accept the truth that I am frustrated, and I can be at peace with that. I don’t have to fight it, or be ashamed of it. And when I accept that truth, the feeling actually begins to have space around it, in my mind, like a little thought bubble in comics, separate from the rest of my mind, and no longer running the show, but on the side there. I can acknowledge that the frustration is still there without letting it consume me.

Life seems to be propelling me in a new direction, details of which I am not yet able to share, as they are all still in the works, and not quite concrete, and I can accept that. I can be in a place of least resistance, without myself being passive. For when we fight our reality and argue why, why!?, that is where the most pain comes from. That is where my greatest source of pain has consumed me- fighting what is. It is a fine balance to be in a place of least resistance, without being passive or fatalistic.

Until these other avenues of my life begin to unfold more clearly, I will continue to dwell somewhere in a no man’s land, half awake, still enjoying the game, but no longer interested in the world of basketball itself, for she is dying, eating away at her core from within. A shift is coming, not just in basketball, but all around us.

If you do not understand what I say, then you don’t. There is nothing I can do or say that will help you see it, until you are ready to see it in your own due time. And it is not my job to wake others up, nor is it anyone else’s. My job, is to to wake myself up. The same goes for everyone else.

But while I am here in this land of gray, I will still play to play, and play to win, for I love the game that much, and I can love her unconditionally, knowing that she does not have much to offer me anymore, other than the relationships I make, for those are real, and those are lasting, and those are the only things that we take with us. But she still does have something to offer me, but it is only on the court, in the moment, in the Now, when that ball whips through the net. For in that moment, in the Now, I Am. Nothing more, nothing less. I just Am.

I Am, is the light and the way. – Jesus of Nazareth.

Shift-

Shift-

Yes, you have Tolle on your shelf to fake
Us, Lance, but are you Dead enough to read it?
You may be awake, but are you Awake?
-Enough to see the apocalyptic

Truth, that is nothing and everything,
All at once? Can you see the ego fight
With its rabid teeth, holding its being
Separate and unique, special and right?

Are you watching the ego, as it writes
Its own paradoxical eulogy
Which calls for its demise, yet with spite
Its own self-martyred immortality,

With these very words being written here
Now?- A blood trail, to a grand sepulchre,
Where reads, carved and enshrined with special care
“Here rests my identity, remember

Me always, please? I was special. I was.”
I really was though. I was supposed to
Be a hero, an inspiration that does
Or did amazing things- even save you.

I was to be a source of good and light
To help those who had been lost, to be found,
To be right, But alas, I…… I,I,i,i.
That is all that I truly am- a sound.

And being right? Well, that’s overrated.
Once that illusion, your truth, waxes thin
You’ll seek another conflict, with heated
Self-importance to keep you from within;

To keep you from the present- lost somewhere
In that bright past, where you are always right,
Or in that dangerous, hopeful future
Where you will never fade into the night.

Welcome, Lance, to the present, to the Now,
And all that really is- Now. The past does
Not exist: its Now came and went with a bow,
Just as the future will come without fuss.

Now- is all that you truly have. Nothing
Else. Now. No more, no less. Just Now. All else
Is an image in your mind, just a fling
Of emotions that you carve with brain cells

To create a figment- an identity.
A,e,i,o,u and some other sounds,
That’s about it: what our minds can say and see.
Yet you think you can define and ground

God? You think, with only 5 vowels, a few
Vibrations that human vocal chords can
Make with which human ears can hear, that you
Can establish the Universe? Silly Lance.

Welcome to a new place, where the ego
Cannot dwell, cannot judge, cannot fear- Now.
And where is Now? A void- A place of no-
self. And in no-self, what Is, you allow.

You accept, love and most important-
You forgive. And when you truly forgive
The ego dies, for there is no conflict.
And the ego needs conflict to survive,

It needs to be a victim, it needs to
Hold on to the merit badges of past
To make its identity, of who you are.
But be still, forgive, forgive and alas

Go into the void: be nothing. Feel how
You’re nothing and everything all at once.
But, if I am nothing, who I am I Now?
Do I still like Trix? Can I still dance

In the shower to Bryan Adams songs?
Can I still be funny, clever with wit?
Which traits, will my essence then carry on,
When we cross that veil which we so fear? What

Traits are my own Being and not the ego?
My head hurts- Because I am destructing,
And ‘cause my ego is pissed off right now.
But I will continue on, attracting

Others who are Awake, others who can
Hear me, who can see me, beyond the blind
Physical world of confining illusions.
Let the shift begin; Let the shift begin.

And let those who still need to Awake, Awake
In their own due paradoxes of time;
For time only exists- Now. Shift and quake,
Rattle the walls of every paradigm,

And be free; free to die and Be. So, shift!
For the great “unveiling” soon comes: Now, shift.

Boise-

Yes, yes. I have returned to Boise.
And I am happy, very happy to be back.
After wandering aimlessly in a sea of bitterness, with my ego looking for some identity, some collective ego, in which to associate itself, I have now come full circle, back to Boise. And with that, back in Boise, I reserve the right to be happy, and to enjoy Boise; to enjoy stepping on the court and being welcomed; to enjoy being home, my basketball home; to enjoy being able to play for me, nothing else, not for money or acceptance; to play and be happy in Boise, no longer having to feel or believe it a basketball purgatory, which so many of us have been convinced it to be.
No, Boise is my home. And I am proud to be home, and playing close to my family, playing basketball the way I want to play basketball and the way I know how. Money comes, money goes. I have made mistakes with that. But I have learned now. And most importantly, I forgive.
I forgive those who have wronged me. I forgive God and I forgive reality for not being what I or my ego had wanted it to be. And most importantly I forgive myself.
Forgiveness, I have learned, is the most powerful emotion. It does not have to mean you absolve or excuse others of their wrongs, but it does mean that you free yourself, it does mean that you no longer have to find your identity in the pain and bitterness that you harbor, towards whatever that has caused you pain. It means that you can free yourself from your ego. And my ego is vicious.

This last month alone, I have gone places in my mind, quiet places, that I never knew existed. I barely recognize myself anymore when I look in a mirror. At some point I decided whatever feeling of tension, anxiety or conflict that was stirring up within me, had a cause, had a root, triggered by a person or an event.
And when I feel something other than peace, I ask what is causing it, and if it is not a direct person, or if it is a choice I made, I then allow me to forgive myself, and then say “oh well, it is, what it is.”
If reality is not what I wish for it to be, I accept it, and forgive it and then accept fully it and then love it.
As well, I forgive God for not making sense. And when there is nothing but forgiveness, there are no merit badges of pain and hurt and sorrow defining me anymore, and therefore the brain and ego go very still. I am empathetic to other people and there problems, but I am not sympathetic, because I am not sympathetic to myself, because at the end of the day, the people that hurt me, will never validate me, so why give them any more? (Natural disasters, like Haiti, currently, are a whole other issue, and that I ache for. I pray for them.)
Instead I can forgive them, those who have done wrong, and not even care if that means they are absolved for their actions or their own karma. This then allows me, and my own- to be my own.
I just say, “oh well,” and shrug, and then say, “I forgive you.” To me, this is maybe the greatest precursor to gratitude, which some say is the most powerful emotion. But to me, you cannot have gratitude without forgiveness; especially forgiveness of my own self and the choices I made. ‘Oh well, I forgive you.’ Now what is next?
I can forgive now, for truly one’s actions towards me are only a manifestation of what is stewing inside of them and if they be of ill will, it only means they have conflict within that forces conflict without and thus it is not about me, but about them. Nothing is ever truly what it seems.
And so, I can forgive, and I forgive out loud, with names being spoken, every time I feel the angst or anger rising, so much so now, that I don’t think of them anymore, nor do I care what dues they receive, if at all. For in my reality, I am nothing, yet anything and everything all at once, and I forgive my reality at times for what it is, and I accept it and therefore can love it.

And thus, I am free.

A shout out-

To my former coach, and current head coach of the Louisiana Tech Men’s Basketball, Kerry Rupp, and his Bulldogs, who are now 14-2. Can’t say I am surprised as to how he has turned that program around. I am proud of him, and always grateful for the lessons he taught me in the short time that we were given together, which seems like a lifetime ago. I will always remember those early morning practices fondly, and often times miss terribly.

It was sad when the University of Utah did not extend him past his interim head coach duties back in 04, but that only forced him to walk a different path, a longer path, to get to where he needed to be now…. and he is all the better coach and better man for it.

Merry Christmas-

I got to spend my first Christmas with my family at home in years…. for example, I spent my last christmas flying to Albuquerque, New Mexico to play a game the next day, but only ended up catching the flu anyway, making it all for naught.

Furthermore, with the downtime that I have very much appreciated, I was able to finish my book, God and Shield, my historical fiction about a teutonic knight. I have actually been working on that book since 2005, so I am grateful I finally finished it. It truly became a love/hate relationship with that book.

Lately, I have had many people run into me or send me emails lately about how much they enjoyed Longshot, but with the truth that they got it from the library. On one hand, I am grateful that they got to hear my story and it helped them in some way, but there is no sort of record that keeps track of how many times my book was checked from the library- only overall book sales. So, while yes, it is nice that people are growing to know my story, it does not help future prospects for more books to be published, when consumers get them from the library or even buy them used on amazon, because in the capitalist market we live in, if my books don’t sell, I can’t continue to write more books…. it’s a vicious catch-22 with the library system and amazon.

Who knew the public library system would actually become my enemy?

Here is to hoping the paperback, which will be much cheaper than the hardback, takes off when it comes out in May. I’ve always wanted to be a paperback writer…..

Happy New Year, and please do me a favor and don’t set a new year’s resolution, instead set a resolution today. You don’t need some abstract day called January 1st, to make a goal, when you can make one at any moment, whenever you want.

Dark Night of the Soul-

I have been home in the US now for near two weeks, confined away on a couch, reading, researching and pondering my own mind and YES… meditating, and experiencing the adrenaline rush that is fear of the unknown as the mind separates from the body. Not afraid to admit it anymore. We are all extensions of God. And we are all prophets.

While sitting here waiting to see where life next needs me in the world of basketball, I have been scheming and plotting the sequel to Longshot. I know the title, but won’t give it away now. And while it is still fueled by basketball, I will now be having a sharp turn from the norm, as I will now be talking of the Dark Night of the Soul, which I traversed in Italy and the enlightenment that followed, as well as the enlightenment I still chase. Existentialism? Quantum Physics? Transcendentalism? Basketball? Mafia? A perfect blend!

I have been thinking of the ways to tell the story without being a blowhard, as I have been pondering these thoughts and other meanings: to existence and God, and our realities and does the world need a savior, or does it already have/had many saviors through the ages, and was Jesus a truly enlightened being, who understood the power of thoughts, and knew that thoughts truly materialize into matter- thoughts are things. So he was a savior, and so was Buddha, so was Ghandi.

I have been hesitant to tell of these thoughts, especially now, since Dan Brown beat me to the punch. Recently, I cluelessly picked up Dan Brown’s new book, no clue what it was about. I had no idea I would literally be looking in the mirror and see all the thoughts I have been pondering over the last few months since the Dark Night, reflecting back to me. It was encouraging, and overwhelming as well. Yet, part of me was discouraged, feeling that Dan Brown stole my mojo…..but then again, Buddha, Mohammed and Jesus all beat us to the punch as well…. this is not a race. And knowledge is not limited to any one mind.

I am not too worried about gravitating or at least reaching out to welcome a new audience, while still hoping to maintain those who already follow me thanks to the game that is basketball. I understand that many felt I wrote too little of basketball, as well, there were some who felt I wrote too much of basketball. I will be second-guessed either way, and thus I must follow where the inspiration leads me. And hopefully as I do, newer readers will join, and many, if not all of my basketball followers will come with me as I continue to climb the ladder to “heaven,” that is my mind.

But don’t worry, there is still plenty of basketball to write about as well.

I have traversed through the Dark Night of the Soul, and I have lived to tell of it- And so I will.

Happy Thanksgiving…. To Me!

It appeared that the gods were smiling on me this year, and fortuitously allowing my contract in Pesaro to end just in time for me to fly back home for Thanksgiving! As I packed up my bags, not worrying about where the next job would be coming from, I was giddy with excitement, imagining the sweet potato and pecan pies, and the turkey and mashy tates.

Ali, the team manager picked me up at 4 am and drove me to Bologna, where I caught a flight to Paris, that then would be connected straight to Seattle, then to Missoula, Montana as the family is converging there this year… and I am very happy about that.

It was a grueling 10 hour flight, mostly because of the 18-month-old across the aisle from me that was something out of this world. He cried the WHOLE time. All 10 hours. I am not lying. Just sobbing and sobbing. While his mother and grandmother, both of whom wore Indian/Hindu attire, peacefully ignored him. About 2 hours into the flight my annoyance towards the young child soon turned to respect and even admiration, as this kid was not going to break. No. He was going to cry, tears streaming down his cheeks for 10 straight hours. Like a train wreck, I could not turn away. The need for sleep that could only be achieved if the kid would ever stop screaming, was soon trumped by my fascination as I just observed, with veneration, this demi-god in human baby form. “HE will eventually have to make himself sick,” I reasoned, believing that he could not go on that much longer screaming and wailing. “Or at least he will just tire himself out, and he will just pass out and go to sleep.”

Nope. This kid easily lost half of his body weight through tear drops in the ten hour flight, but as it was no matter, as damn it all, he was determined to cry the whole time. And he was going to do it. Oh yes, he was.
We landed and went through customs, allowing ourselves to believe it really is making a difference, and then I sat in Seattle for a 4 and a half hour layover. My agent John lives in Seattle, but he ignored me, as he no doubt was not wanting to have to share any pie with me, knowing full well that I would devour them.

Finally the plane begins to board to Missoula, Montana. I get on, and take my seat. Not a very full flight. I turn my hearing aids off as the sound of the jet engines, especially when the doors are still open, cause my hearing aids to go haywire. We take off. 45 min flight.

I look out the window as the plane descends and I am trying to find the familiar sights, but I am not seeing anything. What direction did we fly in from? I look over across the aisle and I see a canadian passport, and then another, and then another. I turn to the people behind, canadian passport. “Excuse me,” I ask politely. “This plane is going to Missoula, Montana right.”
A smile, but then a ghostly pale face of pity creeps on the lady’s face. “You’re joking right?” She sees my face. “Oh, please tell me you’re joking.”
“No.”
“Oh. No. We have just landed in Kelowna.”
I blink. “Is it then connecting to Missoula?”
“No.”
I then am taken back by a hot flash, as I begin to sweat in 3 seconds flat. I barely am able to murmur, “Um….. well, where is Kelowna?”
“British Columbia.”
I tried. Oh I tried, but I could not stop the tears welling up in my eyes, as I dropped my head and just started sobbing. Just like that little boy on the flight from Paris- He taught me well.

How does this happen?
Well, I don’t like to talk about my hearing very much. On poor quality intercoms and speakers, and even on the best of them, I don’t hear them well, the garbled, static swamped words. I just don’t. And I don’t admit it very well either.
And so when the intercom says, “we are now boarding to Kelowna,” it sounds like Missoula, at least to me it does, because I hear and count the 3 syllables….
KE-LOW-NA
MI-SOU-LA
And the vowels are not precise, but are similar in their tone and pronunciation.
And on the shoddy schedule board, it shows that Missoula is indeed up next to be departing from gate c-10.
How the ticket machine did not register, nor the gate attendant missed my ticket, I don’t know.
How I got on an international flight without showing my passport….. I don’t know.

And of course the one seat I am sitting in, 18-b, is a vacant seat on the plane to Kelowna, so nothing is brought up. Had someone been in that seat, obviously an awkward and embarrassing moment would have ensued and I would have taken a walk of shame of the plane. But I would rather have that and still have Thanksgiving dinner with my family for the first time in a long time, than sitting in the back of an emptying plane, somewhere in Canada, doing a sob of shame.

Furthermore, had I not turned my hearing aids off, like I usually do when boarding a plane, I might have heard the flight attendant say something about Canada….

It was just a perfect storm- concocted by the very gods that I thought were being gracious by letting me come home. Nope, they had to get one last laugh in, before cutting me free.

So, here I am now, in the hotel that the airline has arranged, as they will be flying me back to Seattle tomorrow and then connecting me to Missoula on the same flight I missed today. But, thankfully we call it Thanksgiving weekend for a reason, and my family will now be having Thanksgiving on Friday this year. But still, it would have been nice to be home today, on the real Thanksgiving.

Happy Thanksgiving Mom…… hopefully next year.

Now…. let’s Google Kelowna and find out just where in the hell it is exactly.

Postcards from Urbino-

An excerpt from my most recent book and collection of short stories and poems, which I am about to complete, The Pesaro Poems

Hey Mom,

Hope you are well.

I finally found that great Medieval European City I have been hoping to find- Urbino. (Which is obvious from the postcard.)

It is a fantastic Renaissance era city, that was once home to Raphael, and only 30 minutes from Pesaro. It is by far my favorite city I have encountered in all my travels. I wish you could have been here today. I spent the day walking the old brick and stone streets, through narrow and wide alleyways, through grotto chapels and grandiose cathedrals, and Raphael’s house. Just outside of his house, I bought a gelato, as well as one for the little bambino next to me. But he forget to say Grazie, but I am sure it was because he was so surprised that I was either giving him an gelato cone or else at the sheer magnitude of my sheer; coy little bambino.

Urbino has completely captured my imagination. It is small enough to walk through and back in 2 hours, seeing everything that you need to see, at least within the old medieval walls, where the heart of the city and university reside, which rests atop its own hill among a landscape of many other hills that are spotted and checkered with patchwork of farm land and vineyards. Italians know how to get the most out of what land they have to work with.

It is beautiful. It is the picture perfect Italian setting I have imagined in my mind that I would hope to one day see.

Also, I found my favorite spot/seat in the entire world- It is on the western hill, above the city, where the old fort lies, overlooking the heart of Urbino and the great Cathedral and Ducal Palace. I discovered it as I was walking back to the car, when a tiny archway appeared in the old city wall, and I entered it out of curiosity, not sure where it led to, but I am big enough that I am never usually worried about someone mugging me, daring caution to come and do what it will.

When I ascended to the top of the staircase, it opened out into a courtyard, overlooking the city below. As I did, the church bell struck 5pm in perfect sequence, as the sun was setting and the old bricks of the palace and cathedral caught fire from the light.

I took a seat on a log, and I just sat there and marveled at this amazing renaissance city, nothing like I had ever seen, but had hoped to see for all my life. And to realize it was not a fantasy, but that such a place existed, was the greatest find I have ever happened upon in all of my travels across the globe. I sat there for an hour. Just sat there. Didn’t think about anything. I was just there. Present and aware. Watching.

I wish you could have been here to see it with me. It was a perfect day. A nice, crisp 59 degree fall day. Perfect for a long walk. I was only wearing a t-shirt and the Italians looked at me as though I was crazy, while they wore their winter blizzard coats, shivering their fears from their chatting teeth about how hyperthermia was soon about to set in for them at any moment. They have no idea what cold is.

“You should wear a coat,”an elderly lady chastised me after chatting with me about Pesaro Basket. “November comes.” I smiled conceding her point. But then my heart sank.

Yes, November comes.

A reminder that another thanksgiving away from home is coming my way. Too many Thanksgivings now have come and gone quietly, by myself with a makeshift dinner, while I can only hope the rest of my family is having a wonderful one. Too many come and gone. Too many missed Thursday morning flag football games and afternoon spectating, with you making your perfect meal, as I lazily slumber down for a nice nap, before and after dinner. Another missed day with my family. All for this game called basketball, that I could not tell you if I even love anymore.

It has been a tough fall. As you know, we are just waiting to see what happens when my contract expires in Pesaro in a few weeks, and all I can do is bide my time, and wait for the fates to send me wherever it is they would wish to send me.

How do I know I don’t love the game anymore? I don’t really know, or know the right words at least. I guess I just feel like I am the giver, in a relationship of unrequited love. It is not that much different from a human relationship really- I am too easy, I am too available to her. And thus she takes me for granted, while she chases after the boys who don’t give her enough attention, rewarding them with the love that I would kill for, and work so hard for, but can never have. It is a vicious cycle. It really is the only way to describe why and how it works, and that basketball is a living intelligence, and thus she is as flawed and fickle as the next human. And I am at this point where I am done giving, and I am done loving, until she decides she wants to own up to her part. And when I am gone, she can then realize how much she misses me and how she took me for granted, but I wont be holding my breathe for that day, for I will have moved on.

But there is another truth that I cannot avoid. And that is there is a part of me that does not care if she loves me back, because I do not expect it in return. I don’t love to be loved in return. I never have. This is not to say that I love, to be a martyr….. No. But that, I love, to love. I love just to be able to give love. I love so that I can feel life.

And so basketball chooses not to love me back with the love I have given her, that is fine, and there is a reason why she is dying. She has lost her soul. It has been gutted, and she has been blinded to all the lights and wealth and attention shown her way, and for awhile she could get away with it. But now, the game is dying, because she has forgotten to be grateful for the blue-collars like me and many others, who toil and work harder, for less, in the back rows, while she gives her lion’s-share to those with great, raw talent, but who couldn’t be less interested. She shares the same mortal flaws as we humans. But that is ok, because I still love her. And I always will. I guess MacLean said it best, when we can love someone, something completely, without completely understanding them. I don’t understand her, but I will always love her. Is it fair? No. But that is life.

And this is life. And this my life now. I feel like I haven’t seen you or Mac in 2 years, that is how dark and deep these trails have gone into the essence of who and what I choose to be. These last 2 months have been the hardest, but also the most triumphant of my life.

So, the game has not given me millions, like she has for others who have worked far less.

Nor have I received a multi-million dollar shoe contract or other endorsement offers, like some of the lucky ones.

But I have received something that cannot be bought and is worth more than anything that the game could ever offer me.

And I have only recently found it, somewhere on the beaches of Pesaro, and the streets of Urbino- Freedom from the opinions of others.

And that is why I am here. That is why I am in Italy. I would never have found it at home, in Cleveland or elsewhere in the NBA. Only here, after emerging from the fire, from the hell that almost sent me out a window, only here could I have found it. And it is mine.

I have won.

And that is reality.

This is my reality.

And God is reality.

And I cannot argue with God.

Keep a place for me at the table this Thanksgiving.

Loving you always,

From these immortal streets of Urbino,

Your Son,

Lance Collin Allred

Being-

Hey folks, you will be happy to know that I am nearly finished with my second book, as well as a compilation of poetry that I have blazed through while being here in Pesaro. The Adriatic unleashed the writer’s block that has been plaguing me for some time. Hence, the lack of writing on the blog….
I am headed over to Urbino today, to see the legendary Ducal Palace. Looking forward to that. I saw Gradara Castle a few days back. Too much to see. Too much.