I'm really not a stalker

Had an unusual, but very pleasant day. My best buddy came down to hang out with me at a noon UNT Mean Green men's basketball game. She and Scrappy shared a moment. :)

I took out my new zoom lens today and gave it a try at the Super Pit. Not terrible. But, maybe I can work on things and learn a little more. I didn't take the time to edit these pics because I'm pressed for time with deadlines. But, if you get this pic big, you can see the outstanding evidence of Collin's time in the weight room *heart thumping*

One of his shots. I think he made 9 points even though the box score shows 7. It doesn't add up to 7.

Great shot of the coach talking with Collin.

Action shot of Collin getting hosed by the ref. Here, you see him planted. *my honey just looked at it and said, no, look, his leg is still moving. That might have really been a foul. *

And, the obvious charge - even though he got the blocking foul called on him. I yelled at the ref (again) for that.

Now, Collin did hack this dude. His first foul was the result of a pitiful call. This one, well, uh, er, ok, he fouled him.

He made both of his free throw attempts.

I think it looks like he's smiling here. ;) It is very much like my Hot Rod (who plays every sport with his tongue hanging out in concentration!)

This was one of my favorite pics of him angling for a look at the free throw attempt. And, I mean, really, it can't be called stalking when his mom talks to me and everything, right? Now, we just have to work on Collin not breathing on the opponents so hard. I mean, really. There are times that I think the refs just like calling fouls on someone wearing the No. 20 jersey. We could put it on anyone else and they'd still call fouls. Not that he doesn't deserve about 3/4 of them - his hustle earns him that many. But, some of them? Nope. Bad calls. That's my answer and I'm sticking with it.

*Extra note: The Mean Green will be on Fox Sports Network Monday 12/7 at 7 p.m. playing Texas A&M. (hat tip to Brandon for telling me) Not that I get to watch. I'll be chasing stinky 10-year-olds on the annual fifth-grade camping trip.