Quitting while you're still ahead

For my birthday (May 30th), Saeeda gave me gift membership to the Lakeshore Athletic Club near our place. Because this gym has a really nice basketball court, Saeeda figured I'd be able to start playing hoops again, which is something I've been unable to do regularly because of b-school. Still, I have a sneaking suspicion that she also wanted to make sure that all that lounging around I'm doing right now doesn't make me fat.

In any case, I had played on a Tuesday and Thursday around lunchtime, and found the competition to consist of players that ran intense full court games for 90 minutes. I didn't get the ball passed to me much, and that was ok with me, because half the time I was trying not to make an ass of myself with these obviously better players. From the two times that I played, I estimated that no one was younger than 25, and that almost everyone had some sort of prior organized basketball experience, most probably high-school.

This week I decided to go play on a Monday. The first sign that things were different was that I couldn't pick out any of the guys from the Tues/Thurs lineup among the people shooting around. Not realizing the relevance of this, I picked up a spare ball and began shooting around myself. It wasn't long before a guy yelled over to me from a table at half-court and asked if I wanted to play. I said yes, and he asked me to sign in. Hint #2 that something was up - Tue/Thurs. games required no sign-ups. Still, I signed my name and went back to shooting around, making friends by chatting with a 5' 9'' guy named "Moo" who, as it turned out, had also just recently joined the gym.

Soon after the guy sitting at the table yelled out the names of the people who were going to be playing. My name was included in the list (appropriately butchered of course). The buzzer sounded, the scoreboard on the side of the court lit up, 8 minutes went on, and the shot-clock was set to 24 seconds. Uh oh.

It was about this time that I realized I was in over my head. Looking around at my teammates, I suddenly felt ... short. 20 seconds later, any doubts I had that this was going to be a slightly more organized pick-up game vanished - about the time it took for my team to score on an alley-oop dunk. I was playing a timed and scored game with proper shot-clocks with a group of individuals who were either already playing in college, or had at some point done so in the past. Maybe not Division I ball, but enough to put my meager skills to shame.

I spent the rest of the game praying to God that I wouldn't embarrass my teammates. It was hard enough to keep up with everyone athletically, let alone work out the strategies my teammates were using on each play - something which the other four guys on my team were able to do effortlessly. We won our first game, despite my presence on the team, and also went on to win the second game.

By the third game I was feeling a little better. I had taken about one shot a game, and missed one, so I was shooting 50%. I had only been yelled at a few times by our pointguard. Not much trash talking had been directed my way by the guys I was forced to guard. The players on the sidelines hadn't made too much fun of me - in fact, I'd even gotten some words of praise for a block in the game. Still, I knew my place. Especially when regulation ended with the score tied. Overtime was going to be 2 more minutes.

It was obvious who was going to handle the ball on our side. Moo. This dude, who came up to my shoulder, was a beast. Fast, furious, and with an amazingly aggressive first step, he had fearlessly penetrated over and over throughout the three games we had played previously. I would later find out that Moo had just finished working out with Team USA in Colorado and had moved to Chicago to be closer to family. So obviously his game was good. This was made clear as he dribbled down the court with an intense look on his face, searching out me and my teammates to see where we were positioned to help him with his drive.

I decided to get the hell out of Moo's way, and hang out by the three point line. My other teammates positioned themselves in various spots, and Moo began his penetration with 10 or so seconds left on the shot clock. Dribbling to his left, he darted towards the basket, but was cut off by the other team's defenders, forcing him in a wider arc towards me. Still aggressive, Moo kept angling towards the basket, but by this time a second defender had come over to help. When the third defender started moving over, Moo realized he was in trouble - too many defenders, and no outlets left except one. Me.

I felt the ball hit my hands, and I remember glancing at the shot clock, which was down to 3 seconds. I remember thinking how cruel fate was that I was being forced into taking the last shot - I did not appreciate the pressure. I felt myself rise, go through shooting motions, and come back down as a defender bull rushed me. My view of the bucket was blocked as we collided, and I heard the buzzer sound the end of overtime. I quickly darted a look around the defender who had run into me, and realized that the ball had not rebounded off the rim. It had gone in. I had scored. In overtime. On the last shot, with time expiring.

The next few minutes were taken up with high fives from all of my teammates, and with my dazed self trying to regain composure. I do remember my first conscious thought once I settled down a little. It was to immediately walk to where my stuff was sitting on the sideline, collect my belongings, wave to my teammates, and walk off the court. If there ever was a situation where I needed to quit while I was ahead, this was it. Things just could not possibly get any better.

But I did have a huge smile on my face the whole way home.

Mr. Anthony

All this free time on my hands has not meant that I've had the opportunity to relax - Saeeda has been finding ways to keep me busy. Personally, I think the whole thing is quite unfair. Why shouldn't I be able to get up at 11am and play videogames all day long? Those things are hard to crack, and each level requires detailed strategizing and planning. My wife just doesn't understand...

In any case, today's task was to get our couches and upholstery cleaned. I know, I get assigned such exciting things. As any good business school student, I looked around and found a professional to outsource the job, by way of my cousin's husband (Khurram). I had visited his place last week, and noticed how clean the couches looked. I eventually obtained the info for the man that had hooked Khurram up - a guy by the name of Mr. Anthony.

Mr. Anthony turned out to be quite the character. First of all, he...spoke...like...this. Sloooooowly. This was maddening to me, especially since I've spent the last two years learning how to instantly digest large amounts of information quickly, verbal or written, and as a result have had my attention span shortened ridiculously. Second, Mr. Anthony was very talkative. Picture that for a second. A man who takes forever to say things, and has a ton of things to say.

While cleaning, Mr. Anthony revealed that he was a Cuban immigrant who had swam ashore over 30 years ago, started out as a butcher in Chicago, and then decided that his passion lay in cleaning couches. It was hard for me to believe that this man had been showing up at people's homes for three decades, and continued to enjoy his job so much that at 70 had not desire to quit. How does one discover such a passion in life? Have I discovered my passion? I better have. I just spent over $120,000 on education that is supposed to lead me to it.

Mr. Anthony did a great job. The before and after is apparent below, along with the cruddy water that was left over afterwards. Yum.

Welcome to the United States ... after 13 years

Yesterday I received what is considered the Holy Grail for every immigrant to the US. Tiny in size, it is nevertheless monumental in significance, as it changes your status from the "unwashed" to the "you're one of us!" One magically transforms from an individual who is seen as a problem for the country, to one that adds to the diversity of the country. Doors open, opportunities come knocking, and best of all, this Tool of Freedom rends asunder the Shackles of Restraint. The Green Card is truly a magical thing.

Although I arrived in this country in 1994 as a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed student at the University of Virginia, it has taken me thirteen (yes, thirteen) years to get to the point where I'm a legal permanent resident. The length of time spent in liminality has been due to the various visas I've had to subsist on (from student to worker to some sort of hybrid), as well as the plodding inefficiency of the INS (now known as the USCIS). And the wait isn't completely over - citizenship remains at least three years away.

It is precisely because of the length of time it has taken me that I feel this whole immigration amnesty things needs to be rethought. It galls me that rather than go through the legal process, and spend over a decade doing so, I could have arrived here illegally and just obtained permanent residence through the amnesty. The solution lies in making the USCIC more efficient so these ridiculous waits vanish.

Just this last week I read an article (either in the Chicago Tribune or Wall Street Journal) that discussed how the USCIS is resisting the current proposal in the Senate because it would streamline processes. Because of the reduction in bureaucracy, the USCIS would no longer be able to charge multiple fees to fund its operations - due to insufficient government funding, the USCIS has come to rely on these fees heavily. Talk about economic disincentives.

Still, I am overjoyed that I have the green card now. Although I am not a citizen - which means that I won't be able to vote, and will still have to face horrified stares at foreign airports whenever I whip out my Pakistani passport - I have acquired rights and freedoms that many will risk their lives to obtain. For that, I am immensely grateful.

Transformational experiences

Yesterday I received my MBA degree from the University of Chicago. I'm still trying to digest everything, but I know that the feeling of elation is here to stay for a while. Although I feel that my undergrad experience was more of a struggle than my grad experience, the MBA has been the more transformational affair. I feel like I actually understand how the world works a little better now. Whereas my engineering helped me think technically and dissect every detail of a problem, the MBA has given me a macro level view of the engine that moves the world. I feel a little like Neo in the Matrix - I'm seeing the Code behind the Program for the first time.

The ceremony was cool and held in the historic Harper quad on campus. U of C is one of the few places where the President of the university personally confers degrees to all candidates, which means that undergrad, Law, Med, Business (etc.) students all graduate on different days so that the president can make it to each ceremony. Still, nothing beat the hugs from family afterwards, in whose embraces I could feel my wife's patience in standing by me these two years, and my parents' pride in seeing their sacrifices bear fruit. There must have been a ton of sand flying around while I was hugging everyone, because I kept feeling this strange moisture in my eyes...

Our business school building was all prettied up afterwards for a reception, and it was fun lazing around outside, watching my colleagues with permanent smiles pasted on their faces as they hung out with their families. The food was great, and I even got some nice pictures with my friends one last time.

I don't know which way everyone will scatter, but I do know that I've come into contact with brilliant minds whose successes I will be reading about in the years to come. To be associated with them, and this institution, has been the highest honor, and I can only hope that I ably do my part to further the reputation of the Chicago GSB.

Long absences

So things got a little crazy for a while with me trying to wrap up my MBA. Final exams, prepping for the arrival of my parents, last minute shopping, all sorta snuck up and took over my time. But I'm back now. Read away!