yes...and HeyPickup defines all pickup. for many years, all pickup I played was understood...which is what CK is saying.....but enough times happen that before you start, you grab the real indoor Bob Finn ball and say..."heylook" before you even start. it is a matter of respect to Bobs ball...and you just say it out front. btw: next time...my ball is IT. imo, you show up with a better Spalding leather or you don't. "Oh, but it is slippery" yeah, well ...
I was playing pickup ball back in 1978 (no, there were no peach baskets as nets). My friend and I were playing 2-on-2 with these two local guys. We were new guys in town-- teaching at the local school. Anyway, we start playing and the guy I'm guarding is really physical. I'm pretty strong (not as strong as he) and smarter, so I stop making body contact with him so he doesn't know where I am. In short order, I block about 3 of his shots. The next one I block generates this blindside, roundhouse swing from him in my general direction. His forearm clocks me across the head and knocks me to my feet. WTF? His friend restrains him. End of game. Funny but sad. Another time, I went to play with this same friend in his regular Saturday pickup game at the Charlotte Jewish Community Center. Dancing Harry played in that game; anyone remember him? No kidding.... 10 seconds after we start playing the guy I'm guarding just grabs my shoulder and throws me to the ground in this brutal show of intimidation. WTF? He denies it and tells me to stop whining... 10 seconds into the game! We played on with no further incidents. Some people are crazy when it comes to playground basketball.
Why didn't you just take down the license plate number and call the police? I would have those guys in jail so fast. Leave it to the bubbas in jail to teach them a lesson....a lesson in man-love.
Dude that's weak. P*ssy needed a gun. Way to nut up and try to recover your property, but more importantly way to use your head for more than a hat rack and be smart enough to walk away... quickly. OK, you know what, if you get in a situation that you are about to thrown down here's the rules from now on. Pass 'em out to yuor friends cuz I'm sick of this ****. Let me preafce this by saying that physical confrontation by definition is STUPID. Usually one person KNOWS that and the other is a frickin' idiot. So here goes: Fighting Rules 1. Fights are 1 on 1. PERIOD. Not 3 on 1, not 2 on 1, not 6 on 1. If your "boy" gets himself into a jam with some dude that is twice his size, let 'em get knocked the f*** out. He'll learn, eventually. 2. No weapons. This was a given not too long ago, wtf happened? You stand up, you go toe to toe. You fight with what God gave ya. That's it. For clarification on this issue see footnote below. 3. You hit a guy he goes down, fight is on pause until he gets back up. You don't kick 'em when he's down, you don't climb on top of him and keep wailing away. If he comes to his senses and doesn't get up the fights over. END OF STORY. Rules Committee: Guess what folks who are crowded around watching like slack jawed idiots, you have a job too. If any of the above rules are broken it's your job to enforce them, EN MASSE. Footnote: if participant "A" busts out an AK on participant "B", you are on your own. God gave you intuition for a reason, you should have used it. I haven't been in a fight in almost ten years. I have on the other hand had PLENTY of opportunities. I actually worked the door at a Sports bar off and on for several years. I am an intimidating 5 81/2 and weighed a whopping 150 lbs. Every drunk idiot at the end of the night who was just full of liquid courage wanted start beef with (who else) me. No, not the 300 lb ex-Florida State O-Lineman that worked the door other nights, but me. Good news for me is that I have taken some Aikido, Tae Kwon Do, and Taijutsu. That was usually bad news for the ones who actually took a swing at me. Usually I could avoid the fights by practicing the old trick of being nice. (I LMAO when I saw that on Road House.) When someone is screaming at you "F*** OFF YOU P*SSY" and you retort with "OK, Have a good night: coupled with a big smile, it tends to confuse and bewilder them... as their girlfriend or buddies drag tham to the car. /Mulder's rant over; desending soapbox/
CK, I definitely have had similar experiences. In middle school and high school I went to majority black schools and would play ball every day. Now, being a white guy trying to play ball at a majority black school on the "main" courts is not always fun. I had to continually prove myself and deal with a lot of racism and anger directed towards me...no big deal. Problem is that I am very cometetive and don't back down much. If someone gives me a hard time, I get more aggresive. It made it worse that I often would beat my man on offense or shut him down on defense or outrebound guys that were bigger than I was (I was an amazing jumper, seriously). So, last resort for a lot of guys woul be to try to beat the hell out of me. So, often, there would be situations where I would be yapping off to guys that were about 6'3" or taller, 225 lbs or heavier and I was a huge 6' (or shorter in the earlier years) and no more than 150 lbs at the time. Crazy. I actually think one of those experiences is the major cause of my knee troubles...outdoor court pickup game after school, I outrebound a guy (he was about 6'2, 230) so he just grabs on to my back and puts his full force on me - I am thrown off balance and land square on my right knee with his full weight on me. I kept playing despite being sore and bloody, but that night the knee just went out on me. Slowly the other knee got bad, now I am just a gimp. So if we ever play (you little punk), there could be a rumble since we both are either crazy or idiots on the court.
This happens all the time. I play D [a concept UNKNOWN in pick up games] I rebound . . .I WILL MOVE YOU !!! [I'm not that strong but postion and leverage make for mean rebounding] I played this guy he had to be 6'4 or up. He made a move to the basket. . . could not get around me Tried to go through me. . . could not do that either. I kept bumping him off his spot THEN COMES THE B*TCHING AND MOANING 'This is basketball . . not football' I say nothing. On Offense. . .My shot is suspect but you cannot just give me all day. I also move well without the ball [mainly toward the rim.] I'm good for easy putbacks, etc. I out rebounded him. Tied him in scoring HE HATED IT folx wanna push u around . . . . We won 5 in the row I tell them . . yea. . .TALK THAT SH*T FROM THE SIDELINE Rocket River
Back on topic.... I've had countless altercations on the court. However, I haven't engaged in any fisticuffs in years (since JUCO ball actually in 1992, damn I'm old). It's just not worth it. Ever. You have to worry about weapons being brought into it, you have to worry about you opponent's "boys" and whether or not they are going to jump in, you have to worry about getting sued as well. There's no place for it. Defending yourself is one thing.... Anyway, I still consider myself very very competitive. But fighting over a basketball game, when neither one of you are getting paid to play, is just insane. Waste of time.
It is the possibility of situations like these why I insist on only playing pick up games with friends.
Yeah, there isn't a lot of competition that's really great after school. The guys who are actually on the basketball team are busy practicing or they've left already. It usually has to be me and all the worst players vs. everyone else. Do a Larry Bird? I don't know. That guy could kick my ass at will, so I wasn't about to incite him until I got really pissed, like when he says I suck at defense and I'm being a wuss. I was thinking the whole time that I'd call him out on this stuff the next game if he was still doing it, because he must have been frustrated as hell that he'd scored once in 2 days. But he never played after school again, so it ended up that I didn't have to deal with it anyway.
I remember this one time in Basketball Camp, I was defending this guy he was like 7'10". He kept driving in on me and I fouled him. I kicked his ass after the game......... Play the damn game! I hate it when guys start to argue about every F*&^%ing play. It just slows down the game and nothing comes out of it. Your lucky you didnt get your ass kicked. Its a game man, some people just dont play right. Be the better man and walk away. Punkass
That sounds like me, I'm about 5'9" and 185 lbs, and I take pride in D-ing up big men. While there are plenty of bigger guys at the Greg, but they're not strong enough to post up on me. Anyway, I was running a 5-5 pickup game, and I was stuck guarding this 6'3" 250 pounder. He was talking **** saying I couldn't guard him and that my team needs to put someone else on him. So the first 3 posessions they throw him the ball in the post, 1st time, I stole the ball, 2nd time, he protected the ball a little better and started backing in on me. That mofo was actually pretty strong, but he really had to earn his position. He tried to shoulder in and put in a one hander, he missed terribly. 3rd time, I was more prepared. This is the oldest trick in the book on post defenses, so youngsters... listen up... If you're guarding a big man, and he is stronger than you, you have to use your knees to stop him. Take that guy for example, he is right handed, so I place my right knee right behind his right thigh. This limits his movement and thus makes his moves less powerful. So he wasn't able to move back, and wasn't able to move to his right, so he tried to make a move and go left from the post. He left an opening on that move, so I poked the ball away. Guy didn't get the ball much afterwards, he did get some offensive rebounds and put backs, but otherwise didn't do much. I couldn't hit a shot to save my life that game, but at least I backed up my ****.
The funniest thing I ever saw on the court was when a guy called an offensive foul when he was getting posted up.
B-Bob, You're lucky they didn't take your shoes too!! I usually play at 24hr fitness supersport or some outdoor courts. I used to play soccer and did martial arts for a long time, so i'm quicker and my hands are faster than most. My shot is a little suspect from the outside, but I got the Mid-J going, and I can penetrate well. Usually i'm pretty laid back, but sometimes people that just talk so much sh*t because they never got off the JV bench in high school piss me off. When they do that it usually brings my competetive juices going and i've been in a few fights because of it.
Yeah.. This happens all the time.. Just last weekend, my buddy and I were playing at the YMCA. He's about 6'6", 220lbs and I am about 6'1, 240lbs (yeah, I'm fat. I carry it well...).. Anyway, these guys had been ruling the court for about 6 straight games until we started playing. Despite being a big guy, I'm a really good shooter from the outside so I started nailing jumpers because my guy wouldn't guard me out there. Once he came out on me, I was able to drive to the basket.. Unfortunately, I guess since we were the biggest guys out there, the other team felt the need to hack the crap out of us almost every time we touched the ball. My buddy got it a lot worse because no one was even close to his height. Of course, they got pissed if we called a foul, but we only called the really obvious hack jobs.. Some ****-talking went on but for the most part everyone kept their cool. It was really frustrating though because I felt like I was getting fouled every play but I'm not going to call a majority of them since we're at the YMCA.. We won the game, btw and stayed on the court for 3 more until those guys came back and beat us.. Despite the hacking and crap talking, everyone was friendly the whole time. I guess its just part of playground b-ball....
Oh, God...If I had a nickle... One time, I'm walking home from seeing my at-the-time-fiance for lunch...and I'm walking through a pretty rough neighburhood. It's an amazingly hot day, I remember, and I was just strolling along when these two kids come running up ( wel, the little girl was on a bike, but you get the drift)... " Mister, Mister! You've gotta come, they're killing him!" So, off I go...and sure enough, as I round a corner, there are like 6 or 7 black guys, mostly shirtless, mostly very,very fit, some with knives all tearing into this one guy. He's bleeding like crazy, and they're just pounding on him. So this is when James the Wise goes running up to them and yells, get this , "Hey you! Stop!" Now the ramifications of my action hadn't really occured to me at that point. I'd been a bartender and boxed, so I guess I was used to rushing in where angels, etc...and there may have been angels somewhere around, because these guys bolt. I guess they assumed that no one in his right mind would have done what I did unless he was a cop, and others were on their way. So they all ran... The guy comes up thanking me profusely...he's bleeding like crazy, his teeth are all bloodied, but as soon as I mention calling the cops, he's off like a shot. I figure some sort of drug deal gone bad... It's about this time that my brain kicks in...and I replay the scene..." Hey you! Stop!"....Hmmmmm.... 'James" I ask myself, with the beginnings of a dawning awareness of my own idiocy.." what, precisely, were you going to do if the miracle hadn't occured and instead of running away, the 7 very large and armed gentlemen had instead stopped what they were doing to dealt with a lone, unarmed meddling stranger?" I have experienced this kind of delayed fear before...I have been confronted with weapons working in bars, and you react and think about it later...but this time it wasn't just fear that crept up on me unawares...I couldn't for the life of me think of any way to reconcile my actions with those of someone with even a modicum of intelligence. My friends and family who I told about it thought I was insane...a nicer way of saying dumb as a brick. I still can't imagine what I was thinking...It's almost comical to replay the scene, and imagine their faces if they hadn't jumped to the conclusion, as I'm sure they must have, that I was a cop...Except the comedy becomes a little strained as the scenario playis itself out in my mind. I sadly have many stories where I seem to stop at the side of the road, remove my otherwise perfectly acceptable brain from it's resting place, put it on the curb, and proceed happliy about my business...I told the feet on the handlebars of my bike story elsewhere...Sometimes it's like remembering a story about someone else, it's so inexplicable to me.
