As the NCAA tournament concluded with a Pennsylvania based university winning, many of my friends have started to take a stronger interest in basketball. From pondering the brackets to playing the oh-so-stupid NBA video games, it is safe to say that hoops is frequently one of the hot topics in my circle. It is because of this that I found myself at the IM with them, despite the fact that the confounded sport is the one that frustrates me the most.
To give a little context to the situation, I come from a pretty decent family as far as basketball genetics goes. My grandfather was a small forward on Penn State’s basketball team in the late 50’s and early 60’s, and even started on the team his senior year. My dad never played because he was too much of a punk for team sports, but at nearly 50 years old and around 260 pounds he can still touch the rim on a basketball hoop and cross many of my teenaged friends over.
As a likely consequence of my heritage, I have a decent build for basketball, and am often one of the first to be selected in pick up games. However, despite my persistent defense and above average athleticism, I always manage to disappoint my teammates with one fatal flaw- I cannot, for the life of me and everyone I love, get that stupid ball into the equally stupid basket.
Fast forward to the IM where me and three friends all went to play a game of two on two. The teams ended up being me and a partner versus my roommate and a partner. My roommate, Ben, was an excellent high school cross country runner who is actually pretty fundamentally sound, despite only recently becoming interested in basketball. His partner was Logan, our fratty pal who made all state lacrosse in PA, turning down a full ride from Navy to come here. Finally, on my side, I had Christian- our bratty, wise talking slacker friend who literally never exercises but has a great touch on the ball (he personally cites his African-American heritage).
Fortunately, there was no crowd, as the game would have been sad and embarrassing to watch. Christian and Ben both had a grip on the game, but their timidness led them to be very passing and shooting heavy, leaving little room for excitement. Logan and I on the other hand barreled around at a shocking tempo, breaking ankles and driving hard only to airball the layups. Basically, it was two fundamentally sound pansies trying to make the best out of their more far more athletic yet faultily clumsy teammates.
I went something like 4/12 in attempts, which is sad considering that I never even attempted a three pointer. We still managed to win, as Christians shooting along with my defense overshadowed my incompetence with the ball. Despite the victory, I found my self leaving the game very frustrated. What if I had played sports before eighth grade? What if I had stuck with ball spots instead of track and cross country? Would I have better hand eye coordination then a toddler had then been the case? Unfortunately, all I can do now is keep my head high as I airball those dreaded layups.
I feel like all of my comments are about how I’m bad at all physical activities, but for basketball, it’s really true. I’ve always been on the taller side and it’s mainly my lack of coordination that’s the problem.
I find basketball to be an interesting sport because of the sheer pace with which it is played. No other game I can think of allows teams to rack up over one hundred points throughout a single game. As a result of that pace, basketball ends up being a constant barrage of action, making it especially difficult to keep up with.