I get a message from my dad. In the mood I’m in, I tear up to see his name in my inbox, and imagine him down the hall in bed, propped on pillows, emailing me. “Hon,Enjoyed our gelato date the other night. I just want to say I’m proud of you for a lot of reasons. Also, I’ve attached a picture of my foot.”He’s such a weirdo goofball. I love him.
I'm glad I never had to play against him. He was a son of a gun around the basket. One time I think Tim fouled out three opposing centers when we played this team from Detroit, Michigan. They were like 6-7 and 6-8, and Tim posted them up and had like 38 or 39 points against them. Amazing.