by Lang Whitaker

Woke up mad early this morning and met Russ out at JFK, and we endured a 6-hour flight to make it out here to ridiculously hot Vegas, where it’s 105 degrees as I type this. Luckily, I’m holed up in my hotel room in the AC.

Unluckily, I’m already down over $100 at the blackjack tables. Screw the Maloofs!

We’re here for a few days, to check out some USA Basketball action and some other stuff that I’ll write about after it happens. Should be a lot going on—I’ve already bumped into Nenê, Leandro Barbosa and Carlos Arroyo, all within about 3 hours of arriving. There’s plenty of NBA-related folk out here now, and there’s no groupies or other madness, unlike All-Star.
More later…