Let It Rain

Like Michael Jordan in both 1995 and 2001, I came out of retirement last night to enter into the world of men's rec league basketball. It had been nearly eight years since I played with anybody that even looked like a referee. Before those glorious intramural days at Santa Clara, I played on a rec league as a senior in high school. Of course my official Prep days ended after sophomore year when the JV coach told me I had "a hill this steep to climb" to make a team the next year, as he held his hand nearly vertical.

I will show him vertical.

So I went into last night's game with low expectations and a desired wish "to not die", as I quote myself. Luckily I knew that better, more fit players would be on my team. Matt Butler, a fellow coach, talked me into joining and I got my friend Matt Airy, a coach at BCC, to join as well.

The league asks you to grade yourself as you register. It didn't take me long to select "D" as my choice. As in below average. I figured that as long as this didn't happen to me, I would be ok even if I am a "D".

Soon before the game, we were handed our reversible jerseys. I quickly grabbed #12 as I knew it could not be compared to anyone who is actually good at basketball. We rocked the white side of the jersey and I went with the white undershirt underneath as a tribute to my former high school self. (In reality, I lack muscles and am extremely white, oh and hairy).

With eight guys on the team, somebody had to start on the bench. It wasn't going to be me. I walked right out there and stood near the center circle. Apparently the other team was afraid of me early on because no one stood by me at the tip. Airy tipped the ball forward to me and I headed to the hoop. With images of Steve Nash flowing through my mind (I made it a pre-game goal to beat his 23 assists from the other night), I threw a sharp pass over the defender to my new teammate Kevin for an easy lay in.

Except Kevin is like 5'6 and apparently doesn't like to catch. The ball didn't go out of bounds so no turnovers yet. Dominate!

And yes, I kept track of my stats the whole night so be prepared. The funny part is we always think it is ridiculous when our players keep track of their stats. But if any of them told me it was for blog purposes, I would be ok with it.

The game started slow as each team was feeling each other out (that really means, we were all slow, bad, and fat). I picked the fattest guy on the other team to guard knowing full well I could keep him in front. The added bonus was the glasses. I felt like The Glove the Deuce out there.

After a few rebounds, a missed three, and some assists, I subbed out for another new teammate. Unfortunately two of these guys think they are Kobe Bryant. Literally they dribble down the floor and shoot without even looking to pass. They both have skill, but it seems ridiculous to me. I am fuming on the bench! Get me back in there, I am going for a trib-dub (triple-double for those who aren't down with my lingo).

No luck. Halftime hits and we are up by 12. I have 0 points, four rebounds, and three assists. I am ok with this. My job is to distribute. At least that is what I tell myself. Plus with the two Kobes on the team, I am not getting many shots anyway.

I put myself back in to start the 2nd half. It is go time. I abandon the undershirt as it is mighty sweaty. Yet I feel a little uncomfortable just bare underneath the jersey. Then I think of Chris Mullin and everything is ok. I remember the curly man hair coming out from the top of his jersey and I know I can play again.

Early on I make an impact. I continously tap the ball to teammates on rebounds (which I did approximately 87 times during the game, genius). Also, we have three guys who are 6'4 or taller, so why wouldn't I tap it to them?

I drop off a nifty Nash-sty pass to Airy for three! Rack em up! Assist king in the house.

Then Airy grabs an offensive board and I call for the kick out. Let it rain! Splash mountain!

I am feeling it.

Then the sub comes. What? Do you know who I am?

I get subbed for a dude who looks like he never played basketball before. He is a nice guy, but the man looks like a Tetris champion. Along with his other buddy who shoots a straight set shot from 1957, I clearly am not the worst player. And it feels incredible.

Timeout.

Huh? Who called timeout? Apparently Kobe 2 did. He says, "I called the timeout. I just want to make sure we all know who we have on defense." He follows this with a little pep talk and sends the team back out there. He proceeds to pace the sideline and yell at the team right in front of me.

Clearly he has no clue who I am. He obviously does not know by career 71-16 record (.816 winning percentage) at Prep. He doesn't realize that I went an even more astounding 53-7 over the last three years as a head coach of freshmen and J.V. teams before getting promoted to Associate Head Coach. I repeat, Associate Head Coach. And he certainly doesn't know that I have coached two NBA guys.

I let him have his time to shine.

I call for one of the bad dudes to come sit on the bench. Clearly this guy hasn't been watching the impact I have made. He listens. Good move buddy, good move.

I literally start dominating again. Tapping rebounds. Running up and down the court. Passing to open guys. LeBron Elser is in the building.

The game winds down and we have it wrapped up. Aside from Airy looking me off in the post one time, I clearly took over this game.

3 points (1-2 from the field, 50% yo!), 7 rebounds, and 4 assists. Not to mention all my tap rebounds and....I did not get scored on. No one came close. They tried to post me, tried to take me off the dribble, tried to run pick and roll. To no avail.

Additionally at 5'9", my ratio of rebounds to height has to lead the league. If you assume that the players are fairly bad in this league (and overweight), then a 6'5 player should average around 12 rebounds per game. Reduce one rebound per inch and I should average only four rebounds per game. Factor in that we have three players above 6'3 and I should be at two per game.

7 rebounds! Wow. It is all physics my friends. A projectile shot from a long distance with serious arc will only bounce further away from the basket. I know these angles. I am Rodman-esque.

With the game over, Kobe 1 tells the team how he is used to guys cutting and setting screens and we just weren't doing that. I nearly punch him in the face, but decide to quit while I am ahead (I didn't die yet).