Day 8. Still Lucky.

This is me and the little brother at K. Malone's, aka the Mailman's, basketball camp.  

Never was there a happier little 5th grader.  I went a whole year without candy to earn the right to go to this big event in my life.  

The camp actually isn't the lucky part of this post.  Though I felt pretty lucky seems as though I was 100% convinced I was Karl's betrothed, and though you can't see it- he's got his arm around me... I really believed we were more than just friends the day this picture was taken.  You'll note I did my hair in curls just for Mr. Malone, even though I was sweating and trying to show off my mad b-ball skills to the all-star NBA pro. 

When I went back to school after that summer, I even turned in my papers in school as "Leslie Jean Malone."  My 'reflections' contest entry was "If I had a dream... I'd be the first woman in the NBA" and it was a picture of me in a Jazz jersey center court of the then Salt Palace-- wearing none other than number thirty-two.  Being the man's biggest fan I ought to have known they were going to retire that number, but it's still my favorite number.  Unfortunately for me, Miss Idaho ruined everything.  

I know plenty of other people don't have all the nicest things to say about Karl Malone sometimes.  But true love does not die easy, and I think he really was my first true love.  Thankfully SB isn't the jealous type, so when we celebrated his thirty-second birthday a few years back he graciously let me call it his Karl Malone birthday and we celebrated in Utah Jazz style.  This year is my Karl Malone birthday.  I've been waiting for this moment since I was ten.  22 years is a long time coming, but bring on 2011.  I hope I have plenty of opportunities to tell people how old I am... and even more so to write it down.  32.  It just feels good to me.

And on to what makes me so lucky.  My big uncle Mike took me to one of my first games around this time when I was in my KM glory days.  You can bet that I was DECKED. OUT. when I arrived downtown.  Karl Malone (signed) shirt.  Jazz shorts.  Jazz socks.  Malone L.A. Gear shoes.  Wrist bands. Sweatband. Jazz Earrings (so cool, thanks Mom), Jazz Scrunchie ( and equally as cool, thanks again Mom).  I wished I had some way of bringing the 12 Jazz and Karl Malone posters that decorated the walls of my room to prove to Karl I was his meant-to-be... but I gave it my best.  They gave me a temporary tattoo when we got there.  I instantly put it on my cheek.  Then the program man asked if we wanted a program.  Big, intimidating, Uncle Mike said of course we did.  And the man winked as he handed it over to us and said: "I think there is something inside your magazine."

Sure enough.  A letter for a chance to win a gift certificate if we'd come down at half-time and shoot a free-throw. Mike made me do it.  I'd only played basketball a year.  I was terrified.  I had never played in front of this many thousands.  But twenty-five dollars to the Pro Image sportswear shop was on the line.  That might as well have been the lottery to a 10 year old in 1990.  I couldn't even enjoy the game or Karl.  All I could think about was my first chance to prove I was going to be in the NBA someday.  

Halftime finally came.  15 of us from the crowd came down to shoot our shots.  We got a t-shirt just for trying.  It was huge, but I put it on.  I did whatever they told me, I couldn't even think straight.  I was up next. They let me move up a little closer to the basket.  They asked me if I wanted lifted up in the air.  I thought to myself  "I've only ever shot a basketball from the ground, better stick to what I know."  Nope, I don't want lifted up, I told the guy.  

They handed me the ball.  I don't know what happened next.  The only thing I remember is a lot of cheers and the ball going in.  I won!  I won the $25 gift certificate! I was RICH!  I was LOADED!  I was going to get more Karl Malone posters and paraphernalia for my room!

And so I did.  And felt as lucky as a 10 year old with a crush on Karl could.