Every once in a while we need to break up the boredom that comes from trying to talk surious hoops all of the time. Here is a fun lil story from my Read and React Motion Offense chapter in my 2nd book.

STORY TIME

Sooooooo ....here's a lil story for you. I'm not a real proud individual. I don't have an ego the size of a Clinton, so I hope you can have as much fun hearing this story as I do recounting it.

The Wetness Protection Program

by ed riley copyright 2001

In 7th grade I was 6'2," that's big for a beginning 7th grader. I can only imagine that my coach was foaming at the mouth when he saw me walk into tryouts. He was probably thinking that by 9th grade I would be 6'6" or more. I faked him out, I did, I did! I never grew another inch.

Anyway, we practiced and practiced until we finally had our first game. We were all so excited that we couldn't think of anything except for "when do I get to play?" By the luck of the genetic pool, I started. The other team had a big ole boy about my height and we kept battling each other for rebounds.

At half-time, we went into our locker room and the coach started yelling that we screwed up here, and there, and everywhere. We didn't care, we were playing our first game and life was good. At the end of his tirade, I hit the fountain like there was no tomorrow.

With water still dripping off of my chin, we started the second half. Did I tell you the other guy was big? OK, but did I tell you he was mean. We battled for position, we battled for rebounds, and we were at war. War for a 7th grader consists of pushing and shoving, elbowing, and stepping on toes. Even as a 7th grader, he said things that I won't repeat in print. He was big, mean, and Mr. Nasty.

About 5 minutes into the game, one of my teammates put up a shot and I got the long distance rebound. I put the ball on the floor for a one dribble power layup, went up into the air for the lay-up, and then it happened.

When I said I went up into the air, it wasn't very high up because I didn't have much of a vertical. My bladder was about the same height as the elbow that Mr. Nasty threw at me. So guess where that fateful elbow fell? You got it, right smack dap in the middle of my Lake Erie.

I fell to the floor in pain. I had consumed so much water at the half, that I could have floated The Titanic. I was in such pain I couldn't hold it any longer, and Lake Erie gushed out, and I mean everywhere.

The ref never called a foul so the game was continuing. Both teams were fighting for my rebound. With the floor becoming a river of pee, everyone started slipping and sliding, and before you could say " Peter Piper Pee'd a Peck," (Pee'd a peck?), anyway, half of both teams slipped and fell. Where did they fall? Right into Lake Erie. Everyone on the floor got soaked someplace. Beside me lay Mr. Nasty, face down on the floor with one of his teammates laying across him, face down.

I told you before, there's a time to act, and a time to react. But every once in a lifetime, there's a time to do both. There was no more a perfect time to do both, than right then.

I jumped up and acted like I was smelling one of the real wet spots on my uniform. "God, this smells like pee! Did you pee in your pants?" I yelled as I pointed at Mr. Nasty.

That was all it took. Everyone was scrambling to get out of Lake Erie and that made it even worse. Even more players ended up in the Lake. By the time the smoke cleared, at least 8 players had fallen and all of them ready to choke Mr. Nasty.

I never knew Mr. Nasty, or even saw him again. I only know that I sequestered him away, and he became the original member of the Wetness Protection Program. One thing's for sure, I just proved I am not an overly proud or egotistical individual, because I just ratted on myself.

As I said, this is just something to break the boredom, ed