If I were to tell you I play basketball 15 hours a week would you believe me? Five days a week, three hours a day, I sacrifice my body to the basketball gods. Everyday when I go home and have my lovely girlfriend mend my wounds, it seems like I have a different, interesting story to tell her. So I figure Ishare with you too. I will post up my stories and pictures by each individual game I play on a daily basis. Welcome to my Basketball Diaries.
June 22nd 2009
Game 1: So I get to the court and I see a couple of cats that I usually run with. They had four on their squad so they picked me up for the fifth. I was looking at one of my teammates and he did not look like he played basketball a day in his life. This white cat was wearing beyond baggy JNCO jeans, with a purple shirt, and heavy ass Air Force One’s high-tops, with dreadlocks. I was soon slapped in the face with the old saying; “never judge a book by its cover”. This cat could ball man. He was getting rebounds like Rodman. Dishing out passes like Magic. Hitting shots like Miller. Of course we won the game with a good team effort from everyone.
Game 2: Since i was already warmed up I felt good going into this game. Now we all know basketball its like chains. Once you have a weak link in that chain, its hard to win games. Well, we were stuck with one of those. We went against these Mexican dudes. I guess they had the Virgin Mary on their team because these cats will just throw up prayers and they will go in. Annoyed is what my feelings were at the time. I decided to play hard in the post. Me and the big man from their team start rumbling in the inside post. To the point where its getting physical. I score 6 of the 11 points on our team. But was not enough for the win. God was I mad.
Game 3: “Oh its on!” was my first words when the new team picked me up. Here was my chance to get back at the Mexican dudes that just beat us. Since i scored most of the points in the first game, of course I get doubled team from the get go. Contain me?, not happening. I manage to overpower both defenders on the inside for a quick 4 points. So they decide to hack me. Still didn’t work. The big guy and the smaller defender start getting frustrated that I was working both of them bad. At this point the game was getting a little too physical. But I’m no punk bitch about my shit, so I start getting rough as well. Of course this was a good team so the score was 12-10 us. So I get the defensive rebound dish it off to the teammate, he passes it back. I pull up, take the shot. “next!”
Game 4: So the local Filipino squad had next. These dudes are 18-19 year old’s with speed. But they a little pillow-ish if you know what i mean. So we start playing. Of course they are used to playing league basketball and are used to getting little ticky tack fouls. So they calling fouls for everything. My squad had two dudes from south central, a cholo, and this buff little Asian/Mexican dude. It was like Myke Tyson against Ricky Hatton. (LOL) Arguments start to flow about what is and what isn’t a foul. The Filipino young bucks were getting frustrated, and began to play hard. They let their emotions get the best of them. Bad choice to make. We won the game 13-12 with a game winning 25 foot jumper from me.
Lessons of the day: 1) Never judge a book by its cover. 2) Weak links = losing. 3) Street ball toughness > League ball emotions
Why is foosball so addicting? Maybe we should give crack heads foosball tables so that they have a new non-threatning addiction.
