Tiger Basketball. It's back. But did it ever really leave?

My mother loves to tell the story about the time I met Elliot Perry. For those of you who don't know exactly who Elliot Perry is, I'll try to make this brief. In the late 80's and early 90's Elliot Perry was a force to be reckoned with on the famed, sometime infamous, Memphis State (University of Memphis) Tigers basketball team.

I loved EP. Or "Socks" as he later came to be known in his NBA career, because of course he wore knee high socks when he played.

My grandmother and I pulled up to where the autograph session was being held, she explicitly told me not to get out of the car until she came around to get me. I was 4 at the time so this was a pretty normal practice for me and Tootie. But that day was different. I was going to get a chance to meet Elliot Perry, the tall lanky, Rec-Spec clad Memphis hero. So naturally I opened the door on my own and proceeded to fall out face first on the asphalt.

As I walked in to meet the coaches and players, my face looked like someone had rubbed a piece of sand paper on it for half an hour or so. The head coach at the time, the legendary Larry Finch, looked at me, my bloodied face and then looked at my grandmother. According to her, the look he gave her said, "You evil old bird. You beat your grand kid?" But I was quite a precocious little one and told the whole story to every person who signed my ball.

However, as I strolled down the line of players, I couldn't find Elliot. Despite my above average intelligence for my age, I didn't figure out until I was later informed that athletic, prescription goggles don't have to be worn off the court.

By asking each of the other players where the star was, I'm sure they felt small, not as important, but they knew that he was the backbone of the team, and they were all willing to give him the spotlight if it helped the team play better and win more games. And Elliot wasn't a very selfish guy, so most of the praise thrown his way was passed off to Coach Finch or the players around him.

When I finally met him, it was like coming face to face with Superman. You couldn't put words on my emotions. He wasn't anything special, just a gracious player signing autographs for a kid with a scraped face. But he was my hero. And my face shined when I got home and showed off his signature to anyone that would look.

That time for Memphis Basketball was what most would call the glory days. After Elliot Perry left, Penny Hardaway came along. And then David Vaughan. And then Lorenzen Wright. And then Cedric Henderson. And it was good. NCAA Tournaments. All Americans. March Madness was when Memphis came together to support the home team.

Then things got bad. Coach Finch lost his touch for coaching and recruiting. We lost a hold of the hometown high schoolers. They went to other schools. So Memphis fans bid farewell to the glory days and waited for a rejuvenation.

And it finally came at the end of the 90's. It came in a young coach, one with NBA experience, Final Four experience and incredible chutzpah. John Calipari was here. And he led us to the Promised Land. It took awhile but he got us there. Like Moses leading the Egyptians to the Canaan, he got us there after a few bumps in the road.

He brought in Derrick Rose, Rodney Carney, Joey Dorsey, Antonio Anderson, Robert Dozier, Darius Washington Jr., Tyreke Evans, Chris Douglas-Roberts and so many others. And the whole city stood behind him, no matter how he carried out his business. If he cursed at his players like they were dogs, if he broke a few rules, if he was a little sleazy and sly, we applauded him for bringing us back to prominence in the national collegiate basketball picture.

But then he left for better things. He left to coach on bigger and brighter stages. And he left us with NCAA sanctions and stripped wins and forfeited tournament appearances. And we all thought we would never be OK again.

If you know anything about college hoops, you know after last night that the Memphis Tigers are going to be just fine. Josh Pastner, our new coach, had huge shoes to fill. Big Italian leather loafers. Loafers with grease from Coach Cal's hair on them.

But in just 40 minutes last night, Coach Paz let the Tiger Nation know that we are in great, albeit young hands. He nearly shocked Goliath in a game versus number one ranked Kansas, a game we were supposed to lose by over 20. And he has already given us the number one recruiting class in the nation for 2010-2011. And several of those recruits are hometown boys. Ones that want to win a title for the city, to bring home a trophy to Memphis.

Cal got great players. But they left early for the NBA. They caused trouble. They were awesome though. And I ate it all up at the time. But I feel like Memphis Tiger Basketball is about to return to the glory days of the 80's and early and mid-90's. The last four years were great with Cal, and the deep tournament runs. But with Coach Pastner at the reigns, I honestly feel like the best is yet to come.

I loved watching us destroy teams over the past several years. But the little kid who couldn't wait to see Elliot Perry that day when he was 4 is back inside me and ready to get that little boy like excitement all over again for Tiger Basketball.

It's hard to have a child like joy when you're cheering for something you know is probably wrong. That's kind of how I felt with Cal. Just a little guilty sometimes. But now the guilt is gone and Tiger Basketball is back.

Go Tigers.

Things are about to get fun...

Small Business at its Best

Upon returning home to Memphis this past weekend, I was welcomed with open arms by quite a ferocious storm. Lasting no longer than ten minutes, it sent the city into a state of helplessness as it left over 100,000 without power. While having the air conditioner go out is quite a pain in the rear, at least one is able to access the internet and watch TV, but when the power goes out, that same person is left to read a book by a lantern or next to the window and sweat it out.

So fiddlesticks. The power's out. The air in the house is stagnant and smells of dog. What is a cute boy to do? Well, the only logical choice for this cute boy, was to consume mass amounts of buffalo wings with my friends as their power was out as well.

Even though Memphis is home to the world's best BBQ, I have heard it said recently that there are more hot wing restaurants than BBQ ones, so it seems our options were wide open as to where to get our savory dinner. Wrong. Think again. When it comes to Memphis wings there is only one choice. Ching's Wings on Getwell.

I could go on for hours about the goodness of the wings and the atmosphere, but I'll try to be brief. I'll give you three reasons why there is no other option for wings in the 901.

1) The wings are the best. Honey hot, honey gold, seasoned, mild, hot, x-hot, and suicide provide options for any wing eater to enjoy, and all are exquisite. I'm talking flavor here, not just heat. Any average Joe can load a wing up with hot sauce and think it's good because it makes grown men drop to their knees in gut wrenching pain and sob in their hands, but even the hottest at Ching's have flavor to enjoy. If I had to rate the wings, it would be best to quote my old pal Usher, or as I like to call him, Ursh-Daddy. "From a one to ten, they're a certified twenty." (Actual photo of Ching's. Accept no imitations.)

2) Clientele is unmatched. Even though Ching's is in a rough area of Memphis, it is worth it to mix and mingle with the customers. The first time I went to Ching's, I was greeted by a plethora of stares and jeers because my skin color wasn't quite the same as the typical Ching's-goer, but after a few visits, I was a regular. No more stares. No more hostility. Just good wings with good people. And when I say good people, it doesn't take long to figure out how good when you look on the walls and see hundreds of photos of various customers, many of these pictures featuring local heroes such as Derrick Rose, Rodney Carney, Chris Douglas-Roberts, and others from the Memphis Tigers basketball team. Even some pictures of he who must not be named anymore in Memphis (cough cough John Calipari cough) still adorn the walls.

Seriously though, Memphis is a city still divided by race, but when people find a common bond, walls are torn down, and even something as silly as hot wings can be a common bond. How great is that?

3) Three words: Orange Mound Punch. You think sweet tea is great? Well Orange Mound Punch is a wonderful concoction of red drink and orange drink and lots of sugar, a liquid cavity causer if you would. But it is the jam, no doubt. For more info on the name origin, see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orange_Mound,_Memphis.

So we got great wings, good people, and OMP, but I realized in the power outage, or the "Weekend from Hell" as I dubbed it, that Ching's is about pleasing the customer, a quality that has been lost recently in our society. Day in and day out I come across businesses that could care less about the patron and are only out to make the almighty dollar. While Ching's is a business and wants to make money, they ultimately want to see their customers leave with a smile on their face.

When I pulled into the parking lot on Friday evening, I noticed all the shops in the strip were closed. Looked like my friends and I would be enjoying Taco Bell instead of Ching's. But as I drove past Ching's and saw that the lights were out, I noticed the familiar face of the owner, Lafayette, approaching my window.

"Hey man. The power's out. But my cook still here. I'll get him to fix you and your boys some. Go tell him what you want. He'll get it out to you. Just tell him what you need. We'll get it for you," Lafayette told me in his typcial high-pitched, rushed way.

I walked into the store and saw the cook behind the counter, sweat dripping from his brow, but a smile on his face nonetheless. He took my order, got it ready in the dark, his only source of help, a small handheld flashlight, and gave my wings to me and my friends at a discount price. Of course we left to eat them someplace cool, but not before Lafayette sat down and chatted with us for twenty minutes or so. It's hard to get out of Ching's if he is working without talking to him for fifteen minutes or more, but it's worth the time. He cares about people and wants to see them happy. Some might call him an idealist, but in the world today, amidst economic turmoil and severe morality issues and violence and disease, it is refreshing to see someone who still cares about people, who wants to see someone beside himself happy.

As I went home that night and proceeded to try and fall sleep in a pool of my own sweat, I couldn't help but think about the people I personally know that are truly selfless. Sadly, only a handful came to mind. However, Lafayette was one of them. In a neighborhood plagued by crime and with a bad reputation amongst the people with whom I consort, Lafayette pushes on and tries to make the most of the situation all the while proving that there is still goodness in a broken world.

When I took my mother to Ching's to pick up food once, she cringed as we pulled into the parking lot.

"You come here on a regular basis? Are you nuts?" she asked me.

After she met Lafayette, she had no more questions...

On a completely unrelated note...
This week's sign of the apocalypse:


Lauren Conrad writes a novel. Not even kidding.

http://www.thefrisky.com/post/246-sweet-bits-from-lauren-conrads-novel-la-candy/