Egocentric Familiarity  I'm at a Brimson basketball practice. The team doesn't look very good. I look down on the courts from the balcony in the gymnasium. There are some taller men, many look familiar, but not really talented. My friend Jimmy Youngman catches an ally-oop and shoots it on the jump: a nice shot that goes in. Others watch with me. Tickets for the Armstrong vs. Rival High school basketball game are on sale now outside the gymnasium. Someone says that with a ticket there are $1 drinks after the game. I decide to go get a ticket because of this, even though I'm already inside the gymnasium. I walk out to the line with my high school classmate Rose Mueller to buy tickets. The line is really long, so I decide not to buy a ticket. I walk into the gymnasium. A team is there wearing white jerseys. I see it is Rival. The teams are about to warm up. I see familiar Rival High School players, including Al Tall, and we acknowledge each other. They see I'm not playing. The gymnasium is mostly empty except for the two teams and coaches. One side has a large section of bleachers; the other has a small, short section of bleachers behind the teams' benches. I walk over near the Armstrong bench. My high school friend Jack Miller is there. I think he must be one of the coaches. I sit down in the small section of bleachers. I'm wearing a thick, heavy jacket and clothes. I talk a bit with the people around me, whom are familiar. I'm in familiar territory. I haven't been in this position in a long time: I've been absent, and I feel uncomfortable because of that. I take off my heavy yellow rain coat and see that it's the same one as a kid with short blond hair sitting right behind me and to my right. The game starts. The teams are dressed in dark colored gold and dark ___ (blue?); their uniforms look thick and heavy. I learn this is the B-squad game. The game is a non-conference game involving two teams that aren't so good, instead of facing tough non-conference opponents like Powerton. I'm standing on a different part of the sidelines on what may be a different court. One team has several really big players. There are two or three slam-dunks, one by a really tall man and another by a shorter but stronger man. It's a fast-paced game. At halftime my friend Nat Miller leaves. I head out to his car with him. My friend Matt Yams has gotten in the game. I cheer for him. He has short hair. Nat and I agree to play basketball at 10:30am tomorrow morning with my acquaintance Kevin Valley and maybe others. I go back inside. I feel like I'm the center of attention when I walk in. The team is wearing red warm up jerseys. Coach Shooter Jackson is wearing one over his suit.