Being the random thoughts of Greg Tito, age 29.

Announcements for my standup comedy gigs are here at gregtito.com.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

I'm starting to hate my basketball team

Seriously. Ill Wind sucks. After crawling back to .500, we've flat out sucked. Actually, that's not quite true. We got a win last night, despite being blown out 95-54. Yeah, you read that right. 41 points separated us from the victors and yet we still won. Sound confusing? Yes, it does.

The team in our league, Ramsa I believe (the team that we best despite losing 2 players to injuries), forfeited because they didn't have enough players. Rather than just not playing the game, the NYURBAN league said we could go to a different gym to play a team at 9pm. We would already get the win in our league, and still be able to play a game. What fun!

Except that this team we played consisted of 6'9" guys who could dunk. Within 5 minutes, we were down by 20 and it became a rout. They were swatting our shots, stealing the ball from our sub-par ball handlers, tossing outlet passes and generally running us to death. That's not that big a deal, I kind of expected it after seeing them warm up. What pissed me off was their constant banter. They wanted to run up the score on us. They were competing to see who had the most points between them. They were laughing and cheering each other on to the point where it became disrespectful.

I got mad. Early on, one guy was bouncing the ball above my head while I was trying to grab it. He was toying with me, like we play with fucking cats with a string. Whatever else I am, I am not a pussy. After he got better control and passed it ahead, I elbowed him in the chest. Hard. The refs didn't see it, but their super tall center did.

"I saw that man. Just play the game." He had a good point, but I had to get something off my chest.

"I just feel like I'm being played with, not being played against."

He nodded and said, "Just have fun."

I said ok and gave the guy who I originally elbowed my hand and he took it. "No worries."

After that, it was a little more tolerable. They didn't block every shot or score everytime down the court. The big guy, the center, I could tell was letting me drive in the lane and score. That was a little frustrating too (what's the point of playing if they LET you score?) but I guess it's better than nothing.

The banter and yelling and laughing didn't really stop though and that's what really bothered me. The worse part was that they brought their 2 girlfriends to the game to keep the score and those bitches wouldn't shut up. They were more disrespectful than everyone else. At one point, near the end of the game, I got fouled going to the basket. All of them were complaining to the ref, "Don't bail him out!" True, I prolly wasn't going to make the shot that I took over 3 defenders but I did get fouled. The two "ladies" on the sideline were the worst about it though, they actually screamed as I was taking my foul shots. As if we were playing in a college game or something and the student section was going to break my concentration. That kind of shit is just not done in this league.

To top it off, this shifty Asian guard decided it would be funny during a fast break to put a lay up in one of the practice hoops on the sideline. Hilarious. The refs called it out of bounds but I screamed at her (a women ref, rare) "Can we get some respect from the other team? Give em a technical" She didn't say anything and gave the ball to Robert to inbound. Robert had some words for me, however, telling me to cool off. What?

Let me back up with a little bit about Robert, our four-foot tall Italian point guard who shoots left-handed but can only dribble with his right hand (figure that one out). He's been taking the stance in games lately that whenever we bitch at the refs, we lose our composure and, subsequently, the game. In some ways, he's right, but in most of the ways, he's full of shit. Getting fired up is what sports is all about. To have that constantly taken away and deflated by a teammate gets a little annoying. And this time, I wasn't even btiching at the refs about their calls. I was pissed that this chick wasn't doing anything to curtail the disrespect. If anything, she was encouraging it by laughing with them. That's bullshit and I have a right to get fucking pissed about it. Don't tell me to cool down, you fucking fuck. Why don't you go turn over the ball by dribbling into the corner again?

Well, whatever. We still won the game.


I would like dedicate that last paragraph to Rain Delay and his treatise on swearing in the workplace. I hope I made up for it by painting this blog as blue as Lenny Bruce in a women's prison.

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