Real Quick

Rarely do I do short posts anymore. But I just wanted to tell a story – somewhat fiction, because I like to write short stories – or at least I used to. I just hope it ends up being as short as I want it to be.

It was the first round of the playoffs. Shorthanded “Shawn Kemp’s Illegitemate Children” – yes, that was their team name – were in high spirits. First place, undefeated, and ready to roll over a team they had almost shut out during the season. A shut out! Can you believe that? In basketball? Unheard of. The one seed versus the nine seed. A total snoozer.

The game was scrappy. Pushing and shoving was going on down in the trenches. Elbows and shoulders getting thrown, someone busted in the groin had to sit out. It seemed that many of the players were going to foul out even before they had reached halftime. The refs were of no help either. Instead of letting the guys play and decide the game for themselves, they further angered everyone calling fouls when there were none, and not calling fouls when there were plenty.

He could tell the tensions were rising when he saw one of the guys put on the turbo boosters on the way down the court. This was for his pride. This was in front of his family and friends. He didn’t want to look like a fool, and there was no way the lanky kid was getting another dunk on him. Not another wide open one.

So I stood and watched. Almost in horror, almost in shock, but more of that adrenaline pumping goodness that is conflict. As I turned my back to the ball, I noticed number 61 come flying off the 3 point line to intercept a lob pass that had been thrown from half court. A couple dribbles and 2 guys chasing him – dunk it man. Throw it down. Fuck these guys, they’re a bunch of jokers.

But I knew it was coming. I knew that we were show boating a bit. Pressing with the lead of 20. Trying extra hard to crush the other team’s spirit on defense, when there was no way they could ever mount a comeback. I’d been there before. And, I’ve also had my emotions get the best of me at that point too.

Ever hear of the term pyrrhic victory? 61 was about to pay. 10 was motoring down the court, and I could already see the forearms cocked and ready. Suddenly time slowed. Or maybe it moved way too fast. 61 leaped in to the air to throw it down once more, and as he made his motion towards the heavens the two hands of number 10 pushed a little bit too hard into his lower back and 61 came crashing to the hardwood.

He let the emotion get the best of him. Good luck spitting on the face of a man with too much pride. 30 feet away, the group was running towards the commotion. Inaudible words were shot out of faces of rage. Close enough to throw punches. The thoughts raced. Keep calm. Being an adult – over 18 – assault charges – they’ve got us outnumbered 9 guys to 6. We’d never survive in a brawl. Let me get just one sucker punch in. I’d pick the skinny kid – 1 and done. Could I take 10? He’s got pretty big arms – but I’ve got the reach on him – don’t punch the skull. Peace makers arrived. I could still feel my jaw and right arm clenched.

A flagrant foul was called and 2 free throws were shot. 10 was still furious. He burned more of his energy gunning for 61. 61 sat down to avoid further injury.

Hopefully next week we’ll have enough players for a proper brawl.