Manual Breaking the Rules (Back to Brooklyn Book 2)

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At his next head-coaching stop, Providence College, Pitino took over a team that had gone 11—20 the year before. The players were short and almost entirely devoid of talent—a carbon copy of the Fordham Rams. They pressed, and ended up one game away from playing for the national championship. At the University of Kentucky, in the mid-nineteen-nineties, Pitino took his team to the Final Four three times—and won a national championship—with full-court pressure, and then rode the full-court press back to the Final Four in , as the coach at the University of Louisville.

This year, his Louisville team entered the N.

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In his many years of coaching, Pitino has had one, Antoine Walker. Every year, he racks up more and more victories. He pulled a chair up close to one of the monitors. The game began with Kentucky stealing the ball from L. Immediately, the ball was passed to Antoine Walker, who cut to the basket for a layup. Kentucky stole it again. Another easy basket by Walker. When we steal, he just runs to the basket. It was mayhem. Five minutes in, it was clear that L. The L. He had a faraway look in his eyes. When an underdog fought like David, he usually won.

In , the Peruvians fought the Spanish straight up and lost; in , the Georgians fought the Russians straight up and lost; in , the Pindaris fought the British straight up and lost; in the Kandyan rebellion of , the Sri Lankans fought the British straight up and lost; in , the Burmese chose to fight the British straight up and lost.

The list of failures was endless. In the nineteen-forties, the Communist insurgency in Vietnam bedevilled the French until, in , the Viet Minh strategist Vo Nguyen Giap switched to conventional warfare—and promptly suffered a series of defeats. As a result, he was defeated time after time and almost lost the war. It makes no sense, unless you think back to that Kentucky-L.

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It is easier to dress soldiers in bright uniforms and have them march to the sound of a fife-and-drum corps than it is to have them ride six hundred miles through the desert on the back of a camel. It is easier to retreat and compose yourself after every score than swarm about, arms flailing. We tell ourselves that skill is the precious resource and effort is the commodity. Louisville was the Mecca for all those Davids trying to learn how to beat Goliaths. We spend very little time talking.

We are always working. The coaches who came to Louisville sat in the stands and watched that ceaseless activity and despaired. They would rather lose. It was a war game. The contestants had been given several volumes of rules, well beforehand, and had been asked to design their own fleet of warships with a mythical budget of a trillion dollars.

The fleets then squared off against one another in the course of a weekend. The losers get eliminated, and the field gets smaller and smaller, and the audience gets larger and larger. Lenat had developed an artificial-intelligence program that he called Eurisko, and he decided to feed his program the rules of the tournament. Lenat did not give Eurisko any advice or steer the program in any particular strategic direction.

He was not a war-gamer. He simply let Eurisko figure things out for itself. For about a month, for ten hours every night on a hundred computers at Xerox PARC , in Palo Alto, Eurisko ground away at the problem, until it came out with an answer. Most teams fielded some version of a traditional naval fleet—an array of ships of various sizes, each well defended against enemy attack. Eurisko thought differently. Basically, if they were hit once they would sink.

And what happened is that the enemy would take its shots, and every one of those shots would sink our ships. The next year, Lenat entered once more, only this time the rules had changed.

Fleets could no longer just sit there. Eurisko won again. Eurisko was an underdog. The other gamers were people steeped in military strategy and history. They were the sort who could tell you how Wellington had outfoxed Napoleon at Waterloo, or what exactly happened at Antietam. They had been raised on Dungeons and Dragons. They were insiders. Eurisko, on the other hand, knew nothing but the rule book. It had no common sense. Insurgents work harder than Goliath. When the game becomes about effort over ability, it becomes unrecognizable—a shocking mixture of broken plays and flailing limbs and usually competent players panicking and throwing the ball out of bounds.

You have to be outside the establishment—a foreigner new to the game or a skinny kid from New York at the end of the bench—to have the audacity to play it that way. His dream, before the war, was to be a British Army officer, finely turned out in a red coat and brass buttons. Lawrence, by contrast, was the farthest thing from a proper British Army officer. He did not graduate with honors from Sandhurst. He was an archeologist by trade, a dreamy poet. He wore sandals and full Bedouin dress when he went to see his military superiors.

He spoke Arabic like a native, and handled a camel as if he had been riding one all his life. He came at Goliath with a slingshot and staff because those were the tools of his trade. The price that the outsider pays for being so heedless of custom is, of course, the disapproval of the insider. Why did the Ivy League schools of the nineteen-twenties limit the admission of Jewish immigrants?

Goliath does not simply dwarf David. He brings the full force of social convention against him; he has contempt for David. People felt sorry for us. But somewhere around the third round they stopped laughing, and some time around the fourth round they started complaining to the judges. When we won again, some people got very angry, and the tournament directors basically said that it was not really in the spirit of the tournament to have these weird computer-designed fleets winning.

They said that if we entered again they would stop having the tournament. I decided the best thing to do was to graciously bow out. And they were right. The trouble for Redwood City started early in the regular season. The opposing coaches began to get angry. The point of basketball, the dissenting chorus said, was to learn basketball skills. Of course, you could as easily argue that in playing the press a twelve-year-old girl learned something much more valuable—that effort can trump ability and that conventions are made to be challenged. He obviously played football and basketball himself, and he saw that skinny, foreign guy beating him at his own game.

He wanted to beat me up.

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Roger Craig says that he was sometimes startled by what he saw. We were just playing aggressive defense. One time, we were playing this all-black team from East San Jose. They had been playing for years. Without the required number of passengers you can only enter a Transit T2 or Transit T3 lane for a maximum of metres when entering or leaving the road at a driveway or intersection.

Penalties apply for driving in transit lanes illegally. Some roads have lanes set aside for special vehicles such as trucks, buses and bicycles. Signs at the start and end of these lanes indicate their purpose. Drivers are permitted to drive in a part-time special purpose lane, when the lane is not operating. Vehicles travelling in either direction may use this lane to enter or leave the road at a driveway, property access or intersection. These lanes have signposts or markings on the road and are a shared part of the road. All other vehicles may also use this lane. These lanes may only be used by bicycles, but you may drive in these lanes for not more than 50 metres to enter or leave the road at a driveway or intersection.

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Drivers turning left to enter a street, property or intersection can enter a bus lane up to metres from where they intend to turn. She had always known it, but when a mysterious older woman shows up and invites her to learn about her birth family, things take a turn for the odd. The last thing I expect is for the Alpha to recognize me as his fated mate. But a marriage borne out of duty soon takes on a whole new spin. For Kir discovers his bride is an utterly enticing mystery. Beatrice is half-faery, maybe a little bit vampire, and altogether delightful. The hard-as-nails female is more than he could ask for—intense, clever and sexy as sin.

Rachel is human and fears his kind. Determined to start fresh in the wilds of Colorado, she answers an advertisement in the paper for a wife. Tristan believes his obsession with Avery is nothing more than lust. Determined to bed her despite her strange powers, will he convince her to accept her new life or give her the freedom she craves?

But though she prides herself on being independent, deep down she still yearns for a knight in shining armor. But after so many of his Pack brothers have found their mates, he starts wondering if there might be a mate in his future too. But when her plans backfire, her hope for freedom begins to fade. When her world hits rock bottom, she stumbles across wolf shifter, Devin Caedmon, who offers her safety and protection.

She learns to trust the wolf, but has yet to trust the man. Hell no. Until he moves to New Wurzburg and meets Friederike Burkhart. And someone wants her dead for it. For the first time, Rain has something worth fighting for, worth living for. Worth dying for. His plan is easier said than done, especially when not just any woman will do. When their captors separate the three women, they vow to reunite, no matter the cost.

But now someone knows the truth and is determined to exterminate her family line. Living on borrowed time in the midst of this dangerous game of hide and seek, the last thing Elodie needs to do is fall in love. But Sawyer is determined to protect her, and the brooding, angry boy is more than what he seems. Can they outsmart a madman? And if they survive, will they find a way to beat the curse for good? Series: Redwood Pack, Book 6.