July 19, 2014
I rolled up to a local park, with Bob, and we were getting ready to play some hoop.
Bob starting shooting on one end of the full court. There was two kids shooting at the other.
I went to the park bench to put my shoes on.
The kids start chattering right away and Bob, seemingly, was taken aback.
Kid with sweatband (smally): "Man, you
shoot 1 for 20."
shoot 1 for 20."
Bob (perplexed): " Oh.. Well..I'm 2 for 4 right now.."
Smally: "Man you a scrub"
Bob: "A scrub ?"
Chauncey (I chime in) :" Oh, yeah.. The only scrubs I know are the ones at the hospital!"
Smally and his cohort (Bigs) quickly look over at me.
Bob: " I don't know about no scrub"
I get up with a smile on my face and I look forward to this old bag of bones hitting the court, grabbing a ball, and draining some shots.
"Ouch, " I say, "I'm in pain. I can barely move." (Acting Old and scrub-like)
Bob smiles and passes me the ball.
I miss a short shot but quickly rebound and get a put-back. I focus. I know these two little teenage smack -running warriors are standing mid-court staring at this old scrub just waiting for weak game.
I start hustling.
Turn -around shot. In.
I start dribbling. Behind-the-back and through- the-legs.
Kids in unison: " uh ohhhhhh"
I'm like, "that's right. Scrubs! " I say, " hey, have you heard our new song? "
And in great rhythm and melody, borrowing from Whodini's song, "Friends," I begin to sing:
"Scrubs... How many of us are there...Scrubs..."
Smally: "Man.. I ain't no scrub."
Chauncey: "Man, you might want to be after you see these shots go down.
I hit. I hit again. Three pointer. Step -back two fade-away. Holy crap! I think to myself. My shots are dropping as I'm calling out this smack -runner. Thank you Baby Jesus, I declare to myself internally.
Bob (to Chauncey): "You want to just play these kids 2 on 2?"
Chauncey (to the kids): "Hey, we need to warm up, so can we play you 2 on 2?"
"Sure, " says Bigs... He paused a moment..thought about it... "Ahhh.."
Chauncey: "Yeah, I got that past you homie."
So we get ready to play. I ask about what ball we're using. Smally says he wants me to choose cause he "doesn't want to hear any excuses when he beats our sorry asses."
Whoa.
I choose our ball and drain the top of the key shot for ball out.
Yesss. Take that punk (inner voice)
We fail to score possession one and next thing you know it's 7-0 and then 9-4 (Kids). These kids are hitting and we're not. Holy crap!
Bigs had made 2 of his 4 twos with the help of the home court hoop gods: a high bouncer off the heel that rattled around the rim and IN and the other was a hard bouncer off the backboard from the top wing that caught the soft front of the rim for another two points.
Bigs drained the last one just straight in.
"Game," they say.
And I hear Smally say, under his breath, "scrubs... How many of us are there.."
They walk off.
Victorious in smack AND game.
Leaving two (temporary) scrubs on the court wallowing on both counts.
DAMN. I shoulda just stayed at home on the couch, I ponder internally.
"What about another game!?" I yell.
"Nah, we been here for awhile now and have to get back."
That's right... The street lights are on! ( I don't say)
Ummm... "Go home to your mother!" Is something that never came out of my mouth.
There was nothing I could say that could help this unfamiliar and awkward situation.
"Word yo your mother?"
"Damn," I say to Bob... " we just got schooled by some kids..."
Humility
Thank you, hoop Gods.
Another time Smally / Bigs ... Another time
The Gasol brothers better watch out because of these two kids can take down Chauncey and Bob, the SKY is the limit INDEED!!
