As I watched my three-point shot fall short of the hoop in my latest city-leage game, I felt the regular flare of frustration that comes everytime I play ball. And no, I didn't need just a little more "umf" on the shot; it was also wide left. It was the kind of airball that brings the game to a halt so the ref can jog off the court and get the ball from underneath the bleachers.You see, I'm one of those guys who thinks he's got this large mass of talent bundled up inside him, but just hasn't had a chance to unleash it... and fails to every time he plays. But in my head, and always in my head: the next game will be the time I go off for 30.
You put me alone on a court, in front of a hoop, and I'll make a good 50% of my shots. But if I take a shot in a game, there's about a 13% chance it'll rattle its way in; 8% if I'm wide open. For some darned reason, every time I'm about to shoot in a game, the rim raises 3 feet, the ceiling lowers 15 feet, and a little green troll scampers across the court, distracting the heck out of me.
So that's why I'll never forget the time I was in Footlocker and something great happened. Well, two great things happened. One, I finally found the wheat-colored pair of FUBU boots I'd been searching up and down the entire Wasatch Front for. Two, the guy behind me in the check-out line asked me if I played basketball for BYU.
Granted, I had just buzzed my hair, was wearing a BYU Basketball shirt, and was about to buy a pair of FUBUs. Plus I was with my wife, who looks like the wife of someone who is successful at something. But still, asking that question is like asking Donny Osmond if he opens for 50 Cent concerts. He could've just asked me to crumple up my reciept and try to arc it into the nearest wastebasket, in order to clear things up. But instead, I told him I wasn't on the team and walked off, dreaming of dropping 30 points in my next game.
Granted, I had just buzzed my hair, was wearing a BYU Basketball shirt, and was about to buy a pair of FUBUs. Plus I was with my wife, who looks like the wife of someone who is successful at something. But still, asking that question is like asking Donny Osmond if he opens for 50 Cent concerts. He could've just asked me to crumple up my reciept and try to arc it into the nearest wastebasket, in order to clear things up. But instead, I told him I wasn't on the team and walked off, dreaming of dropping 30 points in my next game.
Posts
6 comments:
It was a sales pitch Ross. You were sucked right in.
Ross you just get me. I feel like that post could have been about me. I looked on RM basketball and I'm about player 163 out of 167 or something like that. Basketball is a rough sport when you suck bad.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot. One time I was in the SAB looking at all the football trophies and this huge guy with a San Fransisco 49ers shirts said, "Hey man, do you play football here". I looked behind me to see who he was really talking to and there was no one there. It was the biggest self esteem boost ever.
I love when this crap happens. One time I was looking for a dress shirt and the gay salesman who came up to help me saw my BYU Football shirt and gasped "Ooo, a football player! Don't beat me up!"
Since then I've purchased the official BYU athlete sweat pants, and I'm hoping they lead to more little misunderstandings.
If there's one thing I've learned from Jason Deelstra, it's this: If you can't be a true athlete, mimic one.
It's all about the FUBUs.
Post a Comment