The Weasel is angry

I love basketball. It has long been my favorite sport to watch, play, talk about, think about, write about, invent games about...

Of course, being, in terms of bananas, a bit brown speckled on the outside and bruised all over...that is to say soft, fleshy, over ripe and well past my is no longer something I do WELL.

Unlike my youth when I would use my superior agility to bypass the first defender, my superior leaping ability to bypass the second and third defenders, and my unmatched competitive fire when I missed, I no longer can score at will.

Preparation for a game used to consist of getting to a place with a basket, taking two shots and saying "Lets play".

Now it is a good pregame meal, a half hour to 45 minutes stretching out at home, getting to the game, putting on ankle braces and sweatbands, making sure I have a full water bottle and getting ready to do a bit of jogging.

To compensate for my lack of the physical superiority I once enjoyed, I now rely on mental skill. I get to the right place at the right time, time my jump properly.

And I set up in my scoring zone. When I get the ball down on the block it does no matter if my defender is shorter than me, the same height, or even a foot taller...I am scoring on him. Often. easily. Repeatedly.

Unless, of course, my teammates are NOT basketball savants.

It is frustrating to establish superior post position, call for the ball...and watch it rotate to the other side of the court to jack a contested three that air balls.

A couple days ago Riot Kitty asked why this would (probably) be my last time I attempted to go out and dominate.

And that is the "secret" reason. It is not fun to go out, bust my tail, get where I need to be to dominate and watch it get squandered by poor team play.

Funny thing is...if I were playing with JUST my close friends like Kyle and Billy, Josh and maybe Tim...I would not care (and it would not be happening anyway).

But playing with people who are more in the casual acquaintance department changes things.

With that said, that is not why I am angry.

The real reason is the actions of one particular teammate. He is getting more and more physical and violent every game. He is going to provoke a fight...and that is ridiculous. It is low-level, old fat man basketball. It is not worth getting into shoving matches, threats, etc.

I just want nothing to do with that or that type person.

Just relax, have fun, get some exercise.

The weasel is angry because sometimes it just takes one guy to escalate things to a danger level for everyone. This guy is "that" guy.

And I have not stepped in and outright stopped it yet. I have worked quietly on it, apologized to the other team for how our guy plays, and pretty much committed to not playing on this team again because I do not want to be associated with that sort of behavior.

The thing is...he is far from the only one. About half the teams have "that guy" on them. This I do not understand.

I had a breakaway last game. Ten years ago I would have finished it with a dunk, maybe even a 180 spin on a night I was feeling particularly spry. This time I tried a lefty lay-in, got fouled and missed the chippy.

And that puts me right in the heart of this talent level. That is who we are. Not real athletes with phenomenal skills. Below average players with faded or nonexistent skills.

That is not the league where we should EVER get excited about a game, get to the edge of throwing fisticuffs.

And being with people who do not recognize that...well, it really irritates me.

Whiny rant over right


G said...

Not whiny at all.

Some people just simply can't get the message that life is not one big fat competition.

What's that pop culture phrase:

What we have here, is failure to communicate.

Riot Kitty said...

Sorry, this just now popped up on my blog feed.

I agree w/G that it's not whiny...people like this make me furious.

Also people who make bras that don't fit me well, but that you already know!