VI. Taking questions

Why do old men dominate you in pick-up basketball?
-Zycki

At birth I was blessed with tremendous height and a glaring lack of any discernible athetic ability. So it really shouldn't come as a surprise that I am routinely torched by Older Baller's, given that you have seen firsthand the vast array of vicious elbows OB's will use in any pickup game.

What is the highlight of an innocent game with these guys; the punch in my junk when I bring the ball to the waist, the moving pick that is accompanied by a stabbing pain in my side, or the Karate takedown whenever I am open for a layup? No, seriously it's cool if you bring me down by the back of my head, who doesn't?

We were playing down in Dirty Jersey at Little Brother's gym; the place closely resembled a cult environment with something like eleven buildings that are all part of the same sports complex. Anyway, the nice people who play basketball here are clearly out of their freaking heads. It was a bunch of people my age versus 3 old guys and their little kids. Not only were the parents throwing enormous haymaker elbows and raining fists on anyone attempting a layup, they were also encouraging their children to tackle us using the flying dragon technique. One child was admonished for leaving an opposing player alive. These kids were a bunch of jackals and I was covered in sheep's blood.

The first time I played over at the high school the old guy who ran the game gave me the big speech about playing nice and how some young punk had played with them a couple weeks ago and been a real terror. That same night there was a rumble royale between 2 of the older guys, with much yelling and screaming expletives. Building from that incident, balling with the older guys got to be a blatant endangerment of my physical safety. So now I go over to the YMCA and just sprinkle some domination on 12 year old kids with dental braces, such good times.

Every now and then kids on the Rye HS basketball team will come through and absolutely demolish me, because who says it isn't a good idea to try and chase down a bball gazelle when you weigh 245 pounds, but aren't actually a tight end in the NFL. The thing is I never know when these kids are going to be there, ready and waiting to destroy me, so maybe I should just steer clear of the gymnasium altogether. If I can't play with the young kids and certainly don't want to play with the old baller's who is there left to ball outrageously with? I don't know of many leagues aroud these parts that are stocked with immobile lumberjacks such as myself.

You see that old geezer over by the bleachers with the headband, white nikes, and flowing locks of nose hair? Yeah, he just wiped the floor with me. He made a really nice joke about how a young guy such as myself shouldn't be getten beaten for a rebound while Old Man River was frantically using his razor-edged elbows to savage my ribcage.

"Looking good Mortimer!"
"FEELING GOOD RANDALL!"