Shamelessly, I enjoy Will Smith's music. Granted, that may not be the most popular statement I've written, but I'll stand by it with pride. On a recent rainy day, I watched the music video for the Fresh Prince's 1991 Grammy-winning hit "Summertime" (was it really that long ago?). Despite the spectacular clothing and the ridiculous dancing, I found myself frowning, and I immediately knew the cause. Unfortunately, this summer in Hanover hasn't been like Will's summer in '91.
I place full blame on the uncontrollable force making its presence known with intermittent tapping on the window to my right as I type this column: the weather.
Don't get me wrong, rain can be great. Puddles can be splashed, football games become more muddy and epic, and kisses become more passionate.
But during my summer, I want an experience like the Fresh Prince's. By commenting on some of the many (brilliant) lyrics in "Summertime," I hope to let out a bit of frustration by contrasting Will's summer to our own so far, weather-wise.
"It's late in the day and I ain't been on the court yet / Hustle to the mall to get me a short set / Yeah I got on sneaks but I need a new pair / Cause basketball courts in the summer got girls there."
Sigh. This has been the story of my summer so far. When it's raining constantly, sports activities, one of men's best avenues for showing off, become more difficult to visibly participate in. Tennis gets cancelled, and all those super cute girls you were planning on playing with go do other activities instead.
You can't show off playing squash indoors as a substitute. Sadly, nobody will see you smash the squash ball in play and directly into your buddy's forehead. So you decide to go display your laser, rocket arm by throwing the football around on the Green the next day in front of all the sunbathing hunnies, but rain comes and ruins it again. And ladies, not being able to see us obviously dampens your day too. Let's be honest with ourselves.
"The temperatures about 88 / Hop in the water plug just for old times' sake / Break to ya crib change your clothes once more / Cause you're invited to a barbeque that's startin' at 4."
Summer should be about jogging down to the river, jumping in the cool water and then lounging for hours as you warm up under the sun. Summer should be about heading to the rope swing and watching people painfully belly-flop before you show them how it's done with a beautiful arc and flawless entry (that's what she said).
And not to mention the barbeques. The weather has been too poor, the barbeques too few. It's as simple and as shameful as that.
"Back in Philly we be out in the park / A place called the plateau is where everybody goes / Guys out huntin' and girls doing likewise / Honking at the honey in front of you with the light eyes."
While we're not in Philly, and we don't have a "plateau," we cherish the Green and Collis porch for the facetime it allows us. Without it, we are forced indoors into libraries and frat basements -- much like the winter, but it shouldn't happen during the summer. Plus, it's really hard to tell who has the light, beautiful eyes in a dark basement with a buzz.
"Adjust the base and let the alpine blast / Pop in my CD and let me run a rhyme / And put your car on cruise and lay back cause this is summertime."
Alas, my last desire this summer is that I can roll down all the windows of my fly Ford Focus, stick one arm out the window and nestle the other atop the wheel as I blare Will Smith down Wheelock Street. For that to happen, the weather needs to cooperate long enough for me to retrieve my vehicle from A-Lot, and it doesn't look promising.
Two final notes. 1) This may sound too whiny, but I'm just a bit nostalgic for last summer when the weather was impeccable for ten glorious weeks. 2) This may not seem like much of a sports column. In my defense, I did mention sports several times, and this entire story was motivated by the fact that the intramural softball season still hasn't started yet. So it counts.
Hopefully as you read this, it's truly lovely out and "summer madness," as Big Willie coined, is in full swing. If that's the case, you know what I'll be doing: setting aside time to "sit back and unwind."
