Sport editor’s chance of a lifetime fails miserably
Nick Fazekas.
Marcelus Kemp.
Kirk Snyder.
Emerson Marcus.
Just a short list of players coach Mark Fox has yelled at for some reason or another.
He yelled at me because I was almost late to practice.
That’s right. I was almost late to my first, and only, basketball practice at Nevada.
Fox and his assistant coaches organized a media practice session Monday at Lawlor Events Center and this little sports rag just so happens to make me a member of the Reno media.
Practice was at 1 p.m. and I strolled in at about 12:59.
The coaches directed me to the locker room were I suited up and signed a waiver taking all responsibility off the university if I happened to get injured.
I sprinted out of the locker room and jumped on the court just before the beginning bell.
“You barely made it,” Fox said.
Obviously my chance to showcase my skills and make a good impression was dwindling with every move I made. I was going to have to shape up if I was to get that Division-I scholarship I’ve dreamed of since I was a little kid.
After about 10 minutes of stretching, the practice moved to the basic ball drills: passing, dribbling and learning how to run through little cones.
I was good at running through little cones.
The team of out-of-shape middle-aged journalists, and me, then moved to the game drills. I never played basketball competitively so learning how to set screens and move around the court was as unfamiliar to me as American foreign policy is to vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin.
I couldn’t disappoint in the game drills, though, but then came the free-throw shooting competition.
Oh free throws, the one thing white, uncoordinated guys can actually excel at. I knew this was going to be my chance to impress Fox.
The competition consisted of a team of seven shooters on one side of the court and seven on the other. Players got their chance to nail a free throw and lead its team closer to the 21-point mark. A swish was three points. Made baskets that hit the rim were two points and backboard shots were one point.
With both teams notched at 7-6 — my team losing — I came up to the free-throw line and threw an air ball.
I didn’t even get a rim job. Just air.
After a few quick expletives flew from my mouth, I moved to my left and made way for one of my teammates.
As the circle continued to rotate, I knew I would soon get a chance to redeem myself.
With the score 13-12, I came to the free throw line again. I dribbled twice, paused my arms at a 90-degree angle with the ball near my face and shot.
The form was good. The release was good. But the shot was nothing but air.
If only we had played a pick up game, the opposing team could have adopted a hack-an-uncoordinated-sports-editor game plan.
I blew my chance to showcase my skills to Fox. My plan of impressing him and achieving my lifelong goal of playing Division-I athletics was officially over… not that it had any promise to begin with.
Members of the media ate pizza in the locker room after the practice.
I couldn’t stay too long, though.
I scarfed down as much pizza as a broke college student can and left the locker room.
As I left, I noticed Fox sitting in the bleachers by himself. I walked up to him and told him I had a good time.
He said, “No problem,” and I left. He didn’t even mention the two air balls. Maybe he didn’t see the shots. Maybe he was paying attention to the other team while I was shooting. Maybe, just maybe, my dream of joining a Division-I program hasn’t died.
Even I don’t believe that bullshit.
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October 14th, 2008 at 3:48 am
Hey buddy, long time no see. Funny story. You should do an article on NBA 2K9 next.
October 14th, 2008 at 7:06 pm
Emerson, I think the funniest thing about this article was that I actually thought you were on the basketball team for a second. Funny story though.