Disaster

Yesterday proved to be a tough one for the life of a loyal Seattle sports fan.

Looks like the Grizzlies are hiring my choice for Sonics Head Coach, Marc Iavaroni. No good.

After pulling to within 3 1/2 games of first place, the Mariners lost two games in a row to the Angels including Felix giving up seven runs last night. Ouch.

Turns out Jeff Weaver is going back into the rotation in less than a week. Kill me.

Lastly, the Indy Wahoos lost their leading scorer and top overall player, Matt Airy, to strep throat and subsequently lost both games of a double header last night.

The undefeated dream is over. We lost game one by four and game two by four. Mostly due to exhaustion as we played both games back-to-back with no subs. Five guys. No halftime. No time between games. Essentially we played one hour and 40 minutes straight of basketball.

And I am still alive.

I changed my routine a little for yesterday's games after the near throw up Red Bull incident the week before. With the power of water, Tiger's Milk bar, and Oats N' Honey bar, I felt incredible. Nothing weighing me down, I felt quicker and more agile than usual. Which is like Joe saying he felt taller than usual. It had no effect on the outcome of the game.

Without Airy present (and his 25.0 points/game), I knew I needed to step up the scoring. I hit a three early on. Yes! We have reached the points per game average! But not everything is going well. The turnovers are abundant on my part and it all has to do with this capri-pants wearing, heroin addict playing the top of the zone for the Shoreline Gold Seal.

Yes, we played a team from Shoreline at Shoreline Community College. This is like Kobe going back to Philly. The crowd (some guy's parents) knew I wanted to impress. And this capri-pants guy didn't want me to go off. I hated him immediately. This guy clearly had too much energy (hence my thought that he did heroin, along with me stereotyping him due to his skinny nature with some veins showing and a typical rocker/artist look) and not enough skill. He would fly in and try to jump over people for tip ins. He would just come out and slap me on the arm while I brought the ball up. Then when he got a deflection, I wanted to kick him in the teeth. I hated this guy.

So as you can see, the capri man was in my head. That didn't stop me from converting a three pass alley oop for a lay in and a suprising five points early on. I had visions of a 20 point night running through my head. As the game continued, I had my ups and downs despite my early energy and confidence-boosting five points. With a slim lead I caught a reversal a few feet behind the three point arc. Feeling saucy, I threw up a high arcing beauty that banked in. The ref told me I had to call it. I retorted, "not when you are as bad as I am". Oh snap. Eat it reffie.

The second half seemed like an eternity as I tried to pace myself knowing we had a whole other game to go. Unfortunately the rest of my team paced themselves as well and we fell behind by about 16 with only eight minutes to go. Then we started to come back. Threes were flying, lay ups were dropping, and my rebounding skills went to work. I pushed the ball to open shooters or open defenders which ever came first. I drove to the hoop, absorbed contact and finished. Double digits baby!

Our comeback nearly ended early due to the incredible display of intelligence by my teammate Akon. The 5'2 sparkplug decided to talk trash while the other team shot free throws. Early on in the game the ref told him to stop after asking him if he was Rip Hamilton. I whispered, "clearly he isn't Rip Hamilton." He kept talking trash. "Your foot is on the line." And so on. Finally, the ref tells him to get out of here. Cut that crap out. Akon doesn't even leave, he just says, "I can't say anything?" I am thinking that he might have a few learning disabilities. I told him to shut up. He listened because everyone listens to the best player on the court (or eighth best, but who's keeping track?).

Despite our valant comeback, we fell short. The first loss stung a little. But it was nothing compared to the feeling in my legs as my new enemy (the ref on the other court) called us over to start playing game two. No break. Rubbing it in was the other team who sat on the bench eating popsicles. Yes popsicles. But the image of a bunch of scrubs plus a White Chocolate look-a-like eating popsicles was nothing compared to the refs.

As the game began, I noticed the other team simply inbounding the ball and chucking it up court on calls. For example, the ref calls a travel. The other team just grabs the ball and inbounds, they don't even give the ball to the ref. I tell my new enemy that we have played six games and never experienced this. He says, "I don't know who has been reffing your games then". Well mister suck-at-reffing, the guy who runs the league has reffed our games. It doesn't matter to him. Then White Chocolate tells me it is always like this. I nearly melt him with my icy glare.

Early on White Chocolate proves to be the best player as he drains ridiculous stand still ugly form threes. I want to punch him in the throat, kidney, spleen, testicles, and cornia. The game continues with this occuring and I miss multiple threes. We lead most of the first half despite my lack of scoring. Seems odd I know. I get a lay up cherry picking and I start sprinting a lot more. Weird how that works huh?

All of this occuring with the other ref showing complete incompetence. My new enemy at least knows basketball. The other ref might be retarded. In fact, he looks just like this guy (right) from some CBS sitcom. He told White Chocolate to shut up when he talked. Then he pointed the wrong way and said, "Green ball!" I asked him whose ball and he said, "Green! I said that!" Whoa tiger. This guy was clearly unstable.

The game remained close as I started to rack up assists including a Joe Montana-esque dime over the defense to a streaking Akon for a lay in. Everyone liked that one. I steal the ball later and with a large 6'6 guy on my back apparently swing my elbow and hit his tooth. It doesn't stop me as I dribble into a horrible pass on the fast break. Of course, I ask the guy as he gets the ball back if he is ok. I genuinely want to know and also want to avoid being assaulted.

After a lay up late, I landed and my calf said, "what the hell are you doing jumping son?" I decided to stay mostly on the ground. And with players cramping on each side, it became a war of attrition. Only I will not lose this war. (As opposed to the wars I did lose such as the war with the fence in college or the four year war with my bike in college).

With the game on the line late, I knew I had to 'd' up White Chocolate. Others may have quickness, but they play stupid defense. I told Akon 42 times to trace the ball and keep a hand up so that W.C. couldn't shoot his three. He didn't listen, so I needed to take this game over myself. White Chocolate could do nothing against me as his quickness rivaled my own. Down two, Butler screened across for Tim as I threw a ridiculous dime from the top for a lay in. Tie game.

Soon after we have the ball on an inbounds play and I throw it in. White Chocolate tells me I shouldn't inbound under the hoop. I think many things including:

1. I have a state championship as a coach and teach inbounds plays, so please save the lessons for your soon-to-be six children.

2. Punching him.

3. Him stabbing me with a dagger after I punch him.

Instead I keep silent and play for victory. With the game tied, we play good defense and get a missed shot. Unfortunately they get a tip in from the guy who showed up at halftime. Trust me, there is no bigger advantage in men's rec league than being rested. We need a two. Butler brings the ball up and tells me to get it. I am standing two feet away with no one on me. He doesn't pass, but yells for me to get the ball. Confused, I wait for the pass. Butler decides to drop it off behind his back. As the ball rolls loose, only White Chocolate and me have a chance to grab the rock. He didn't stand a chance as I grab it. Needing help at this point, I throw to Tim who kicks it to Butler. He lines up a three and shoots. Knowing full well he should have passed to me, the ball inevitably goes off the rim. We foul, but rested guy hits both free throws. The game is over. My life ruined.

I try to take solace in the fact that I never fully cramped and didn't have to leave the game. With this in mind, I add up my stats (of course estimating since I could barely walk, think, or feel):

Game 1 - 10 points, 5 rebounds, 8 assists, 2 steals

Game 2 - 4 points, 4 rebounds, 11 assists, 3 steals

Those seem right. Averages now stand at 4.0 points, 4.5 rebounds, 7.0 assists, 2.8 steals. That comes up to 32 fantasy points per game in rotissirie style scoring. You might want to consider picking me up if you are running a men's rec league Wednesday night fantasy league. Just a thought.