The Washington Generals

An open letter to the participants in my Thursday night basketball game in Park Slope, Brooklyn

Dear Misfit Toys,

I apologize. I have stood by patiently, and with my jaw dropped mind you, for too long watching this whole charade go on. I have to tell you, and I am sorry it has to come from me, that…ya’ll buggin. Ya’ll buggin hard.

I love playing basketball, I truly do. I love nothing more than a couple times a week getting out there, getting some exercise while getting the competitive juices flowing, and knocking down a couple shots….but you all have stretched the definition of “playing basketball” to its very limit and I must either move on or things must change.

I just received an email from the mastermind behind this hopeless clan suggestion that three and a half (you read that right) games with a total of 13 people is the best option when conducting a pick up game. I shouldn’t be surprised, you all have held this stance for some time. Another stance you hold steady to is that our games go up to 41. There is no doubt, from the fact you hold these positions, that you have never played basketball with anyone but each other and only in this very gym. There is no way any of you have experienced any sort of coaching, basketball camps, played a game with an electric scoreboard or refs, been to an open gym, or even played NBA Live. I would love to debate the merits of playing the right way but it is obvious you all don't get it and also because I am sure that while I was going to away games in the bad part of Hartford to have the ball thrown down my throat by a 6’6” high school All Americans or getting chewed out by my high school coach for having long hair and a hemp necklace that you non matching clothes muthafuckas were probably debating the positives of playing three and a half games to 41 with 12 or 13 players (but no more than that, oh no!). You have no idea how many times have I swallowed my whistle when you pimple faced tj maxx high top wearing shlubs double dribble. And I ain’t talking the type of double dribble where you’re sure the opponent got a hand on it so you dribble again and then the ref calls it. No, I'm talking actually dribbling the ball with two hands at once, the o.g. double dribble. I am positive, I mean I've never been more sure about anything in my entire thirty one years, that when I don't show up that you play one game then entire two hours cause not one of you can find the hole...finding a hole has been an issue for this group of virgins for some time but I digress and you know have me making personal attacks on how often all of you get laid...



Seriously, where did you people find each other? I mean what are the origins of this eclectic group of freaks? What unexplainable force of nature pulls you all to the Jewish Community Center on 8th Av every Thursday at 8pm? What did the Craig’s List posting read: Wanted: Anyone who has not ever, in their entire life, played organized basketball but would like to pretend they have on a weekly basis. Must be overweight, out of shape, excessively hairy, and your shirt top color must differ from your shorts and sock wear in dramatic fashion. Proper gym footwear not required and deodorant is an absolute no-no. And more than all of this….how did I get involved and actually become a part of a weekly get together with society’s cast aways???

And I have to ask….Does my inbox really need to be lit up week in and week out while the misfit toys try to put together a 7 on 6 (Why do you insist on capping the attendance at 13??? Why? Tell me why!! Basketball is 5 on 5…10 or 15 people is much more logical) with subs who sub in on some logarithmic pattern I will never figure out (just tell me when I'm in already!!). Most people sub when someone is tired, or to allow someone else to play, or when someone’s playing bad...not when x equals the square root of three baskets divided by your turnover margin. What the f is happening?

I like to think I can play a little rock..but if I walk into a gym and I'm the best player there (maybe ever, maybe I am the best player that they have ever played with), then there is definitely a problem.

And if you think I will be attending any of these post “basketball” bar hangs you are completely out of your got damn mind. I'm not a health nut by any means but watching aging underachieving talentless players down wings, mozzarella sticks, and quesadillas after going 1 for 11 with no assist and 8 turnovers just kills me, and I may start taking shots of wheat grass or even try to figure out what the fuck palates is or something. Watching sweat poor onto your unlaced Champion sneakers is one thing, literally hearing you get fatter as you chase a jalapeño popper with a slider is another.

I’m sorry. I had to get this out. The truth is you all make me feel like Jordan and I’ll see you tonight. Let’s pretend this never happened. Thanks.