Well, isn't that always the way it happens? Right in time for the book release, just in time for the handful of TV appearances and photos ops, who goes out for a friendly game of basketball and gets his head split open by an accidental elbow?
That's right—this guy. Long night in Emerg—which, as an aside, is there a more saddening place on earth than an Emergency room at 2 o'clock in the morning? I was sitting in a little curtained stall beside some poor girl going through the DTs, who kept complaining about the young boy down the hall who wouldn't stop crying (he kept crying because his elbow had been dislocated, although his parents couldn't exactly explain how). I'm slumped there thinking: My dear, you're a heroin addict going through the DTs in an Emergency room with only the barest nod to personal privacy—it's a little much to take umbrage at a child crying because his elbow is twisted rudely out of joint.
Anyway, neither here nor there. Wounds heal, ladies dig scars, glory lasts forever. Of course there's very little glory to be had with a pickup basketball-related injury, but I might start telling people I got it wrestling a 'gator or getting in a wee bit of a dustup at a bar with some bouncer who looked at my cockeyed. Yeah, that's the ticket.
All best, Craig.