26 Sep 2001 (updated 26 Sep 2001 at 01:08 UTC)
»
So my baby brother Alain turned 32
yesterday. 32! The fact is,
people are always as old as they were when I first met
them,
so that Jeremy is
permanently 24, and Kay will never
be
older than 10, and Alain is 19 months old. We're
practically twins.
He's wanted a proper American football for
ages,
and I
tried to buy one from the online NFL store last year, and
they screwed me around, so I didn't. So no link for them.
Anyway, I was at the
Seybold keynote this morning, and after I'd finished
absorbing fun facts about Apple (10.1 looks pretty slick),
I went into Copeland's Sports on Market and demanded the
finest football money could buy.
It was really expensive. But it's pretty fine. It's
a
Wilson,
which is good, apparently, and it's made out of
dead pig; also good, I'm told. "Designed for the serious
competitor/professional" it warns, in a handsome navy font
on cardboard of beaten gold. "To revitalize tacky grip,
buff with a stiff brush." Words to live by.
I'm planning to be in Queensland in January, so
I'll
give
it to him then. I thought about keeping it as a surprise,
but then, you know, I thought better of it. So I called.
Yay, international telecommunications. I love how you can
just punch in a number and be talking to your brother
13000km away.
"To revitalize tacky grip, buff with a stiff
brush," I
told
him.
"You bought me a blow-up doll!" he cried in
glee.
It's the right football!
"It's sitting on my desk, quietly glowing," I said.
"That's what it'll do when I get it," he said. "Except
I'll
make a few passes."
"Oh you can't play with it. It's way too good."
"Only indoors," said Alain.