This is the promised second entry of the series. Go back and read the first if you havent already.

Days 3 and 4

I woke up today in sunny, hot, Phoenix, Arizona. I was told that the Arena was just down the street from the Sheraton where I was staying and that I should get there about 8:30. Today I was going to go workout with the team, do my physicals with the doctors, and then go back to San Francisco the next day to pack a bigger back and park my car in a garage. It was good to start my day with a good game plan.

I took off from the hotel at about 8am and threw my sunglasses on. It was too bright, and I my eyes have the sensitivity of a seven year old girl’s, so I always have my Dita’s on. I was walking to the gym with a very fast pace. Keep in mind that my legs cover like a yard and a half with each step, and I was booking it. Out of nowhere, some woman wooshed past me. She’s walking way faster. It confused me a great deal. This woman must have been six foot four.

“Boom Got Them Three” interrupted my train of thought. My iphone was ringing. Nobody calls me at 8am because my friends work in tech jobs and sleep til noon then work from home. It must have been my mom because the call was from a blocked number.

“Hello?”

“Rodrigue! Where are you?”

My agent’s voice is very distinct. He’s like a slower, squeakier Ari Gold.

“I’m walking to US Airways Arena as we speak,” I informed. “What’s up?”

“The guy from Indiana finally called. Figures it would happen after we commit to Phoenix and we waited all this time.”

“O.K. So, what does this mean?”

“I called the guy from Phoenix and asked him what he would do in our position. He said he would go to Indiana in a heartbeat because it would take an ‘act of God’ for you to make this team.

“When would be ready to go to Indiana?” he asked. “Do you have your stuff with you?”

“Umm, no. I only brought one change of clothes because I was supposed to go back,” I responded.

“Well, be prepared to fly out quickly. I’m gonna call Indiana back and see what they say about getting you out of Phoenix and into Indiana. You will probably have one night in San Francisco to get your stuff together.”

“So, should I turn around and go back to the hotel?” I realized that I had been standing on some corner in downtown Phoenix with no direction as to my next move.

“Yes. I’ll call you back later with details.”

The woman with the fast walk was a half-mile away now. Man she moved fast. I had to focus, though.

I walked back to the hotel, layed down, and fell asleep. It was too early in the morning for all of this nonsense.

I woke up at about noon. I checked my phone and there were no messages or missed calls. It didn’t make a lot of sense because I was expecting very specific instructions for my next couple of days.

I jumped onto Facebook and began to iChat with my boy JGant. I was telling him all about the crazy morning when I got a Facebook message from someone asking me why I hadn’t responded to their text. I was confused, so I asked JGant to call my phone and check out the situation.

I could hear my phone through the computer:

“We’re sorry, but the wireless customer you are trying to reach is not accepting calls at this time.”

I immediately knew what that meant. ATT plays that message as a nice way to say “we’re sorry, but this deadbeat who should have gotten a pay-as-you-go Boost Mobile phone, didn’t pay his coddamn bill. Laugh at him.”

ATT never warns me when my bill is due and I never think about it. It gets me every time.

I logged onto ATT.com and paid my bill. I think, immediately, called my agent. He picked up on the first ring.

“Rodrigue! I hope you were having great sex or something to not answer your phone,” he yelled.

“Man, let’s not even talk about it,” I said.

“Well, here’s the deal. How much time do you think you would need in San Francisco? You just have to get your stuff, right? Indiana is saying that they want you to do physicals tomorrow. That would mean I would have to get you on a red-eye tonight from San Francisco, which would mean I would have to get you out of Phoenix now. Does this work for you?”

I don’t think anyone who doesn’t play professional sports will ever fully understand what questions like this mean. Clearly my answer was yes, but while we continued talking, my mind wandered to all those times I had to say goodbye to friends too quickly. It wandered to those times when I had to pack to fast, and the times when I barely had time to call my mom and tell her where in the world her oldest son was. The thing about this was, this wasn’t my first crazy travel situation by any means…

Too much Rod Benson: Flight woes

By Rod Benson

Things work out kind of oddly for me. San Antonio booked a flight for me to go to Toronto, and Toronto had done the same. It seemed to only make sense to take the flight that Toronto had booked because they were in charge of picking me up from the airport and lord knows that if the hotel ended up being far from the airport then I couldn't afford that cab ride.

I could have flown on Delta from San Antonio to Cincinnati to Toronto and arrived at 9:55pm. Instead I took the American Airlines flight from San Antonio to Dallas to Toronto that was scheduled to arrive at 10pm. When I got to the airport, there was already trouble. Within five minutes I realized that I would have to pay $15 to check one bag. Jerks. Then I found out that my flight to Dallas was delayed an hour. I guess those are things I can deal with, but they are still annoying.

Before I boarded, I talked with the Raptors guy, Courtney, about my flight delay and that I'd be landing in Toronto about an hour late. It was all good. Then I arrived in Dallas and checked the monitors. My flight was pushed back another hour. I was now taking off at 10pm Toronto time on a three-hour flight. I was cool with that even though it was terrible. I ate a small meal and checked the monitors again. I was pushed back another hour. I was now slated to take off at 11pm Toronto time. Now I was getting worried. Most of these workouts are at 9am. How am I supposed to arrive at 2am and be fresh for the workout?

It was a question I never had to answer.

I checked the monitors just a few moments later and I was pushed back another hour and twenty minutes. I was not departing Dallas until 12:20am Toronto time. Coddamit. I would get in at 3:30 or so, wake up at 7, and play against other, well-rested guys who didn't already have jet lag to deal with, for that one spot. It was not looking good at all.

Tired and groggy, I forgot all about customs and whatnot when I landed in Toronto. I'm pretty sure I had a combination of chicken scratch and copies of what the guy next to me wrote on his paper when I handed it to the customs agent. I've never had to do so much thinking on so little sleep. I had to read emails and make sense of many things, including my transportation to the hotel. It took a couple tries, but I was able to figure out where to go and what to do.

I got to the hotel at 4am for check-in. I hadn't spoken to anyone with the team, so I had no clue what the deal was. The check-in lady handed me an envelope and my room key and I went up to my room with no hope for the next day. I opened the envelope when I got to the room. It had our itinerary printed on it. I read it twice. Our workout wasn't 'til 5pm the next day! I literally yelled out loud and pumped my fist like Tiger Woods on the 18th green, baby. I was so ecstatic. I then realized that I was at a Westin Hotel, which meant "heavenly" beds and showers. Maybe it wasn't going to be so hard for me to compete the next day. Maybe this was just what I needed to take my mind off my sore and tired body that felt like I left it behind in San Antonio. It was just a reminder that there is no time for excuses now. It was time to play or be played.

I took exhausted Boom Tho to bed. In the morning I'd have to start doing what I had been doing for the past month. I'd have to play for my season.

Later on that night, I was sitting in the airport, exhausted from a long day. I had flown from Phoenix to San Francisco, spent a couple hours packing, and now I was back at SFO, ready to board my next flight. I would leave at midnight on fly headed to Minneapolis, have an hour layover, and then board a 10AM flight to Indianapolis. I still had a lot of travel in front of me.

I took my seat on the Northwest Airlines flight, once again realizing that forgot to do my coddamn frequent flier miles. It would be ok if I could just go right to sleep on the plane. Of course that didn’t happen.

The guy next to me proceeded to tell me all about how we were on the “safest airplane in the sky.” He told me all about what made this plane better and safer, including its ability to fly on only one engine. Obviously, when we was told about how safe this plane was, that some person never told him about the rules of Jinx and “knock on wood.” I was just picturing some fool on the deck of the Titanic, boasting about how safe that boat was, also ignoring the possibility of Jinx. I didn’t sleep a wink after that.

Tired, I deplaned and boarded my next flight in Minneapolis. Once again, I didn’t sleep a wink. This was due to the ridiculously small size of the plane, and the flight attendant who managed to run his cart right into my left knee like it was a Pinata, eagerly expecting assorted Jolly Rancher flavors to come bursting out. I was too tired to get agitated.

There was no rest when I arrived in Indianapolis. I was picked up and wooshed to various doctors offices and clinics around town. The standard physical doesn’t take much time or effort, but the NBA requires an EKG and a stress test. Basically, I had to run on a treadmill at an increasing rate of speed for 15 minutes nonstop until my heart rate reached a certain BPM. Keep in mind that I had to do this without any sleep for over 24 hours, and that I was still in the same v-neck t-shirt, Cal shorts, and Vans that I had been wearing during my half-walk to the Arena in Phoenix the day before. I pretty sure I looked like a MESS for the entire ordeal.

Sweaty, tired, smelly, and exhausted, I was finally taken Conseco Fieldhouse in downtown Indy. It was now about 4PM locally – my 28^th straight hour awake. I shook the hands of a ton of people I didn’t know, and who I’m sure judged me to be the black version of The Scarecrow from “The Wizard of Oz.” I can’t blame them. I looked about as depleted as the water hole from Madagascar 2.

Finally, after signing a few papers, I was taken to the Embassy Suites in downtown Indianapolis, and layed my head down. The longest day of my life was officially over.