A couple months back the geniuses over at DudePerfect created one of the most relatable videos I’ve ever seen. Check it out below. Anyone who has played pick up basketball at any point in their life, has run into at least one of these stereotypes…or, is one of these stereotypes.
My friends and I play pickup basketball and in Men’s Leagues way too much and take it way too seriously. We treat it like the NBA Finals most days. We bicker like our lives depend on it. We sometimes don’t speak to each other for days over things that occur on the court. We all think we are way better than we probably actually are. Quite simply, its beautifully awesome.
Once you graduate college and come to terms with the fact that the NBA or NFL doesn’t want you, intramural sports is all that’s left. Some people play for the purpose of getting exercise, or getting away from their wives/girlfriends, but most, in my humble opinion….play to relive the glory days. Uncle Rico used to be able to throw that ball a quarter mile. Everyone knows an Uncle Rico and everyone has some sort of war story from the greatest athletic performance of their lives. I can remember in college, the days we had basketball or flag football games, zero work was accomplished. Paying attention in class? Not a chance. It’s definitely not to the same extent anymore, but yea, I get pretty excited to go out there and compete/dominate other 20-somethings. SO BACK OFF!
Most of the guys I know are ultra competitive athletes coming up on the tail end of illustrious careers. Many of these people played college football, basketball, baseball, and other sports at Division 1 schools. Now, pick up basketball is all they have left. We all play through rolled ankles, bad backs, bad knees, bruises all over our bodies, aches, pains, jammed fingers and just plain ol’ being tired. We all complain about the refs, having to play at 10pm some nights, and our bruised bodies. But, deep down, I know everyone loves it and will genuinely be sad when the fat lady sings.
Most girls don’t get it. They think we are ridiculous, they can’t understand how or why we take it so serious. They don’t understand why, after losing a game, we don’t want to to speak and act like it’s the worst day of our lives. They don’t understand how or why we could yell at a referee, over a meaningless call, and get thrown out of a game. They don’t understand why there is absolutely no foreseeable reason that would cause us to miss a game against our friends teams. Maybe a natural disaster or a death in the family, that’s about it.
I guess once our playing careers come to an end, and we get over the initial depression, we pray for athletic children, so we can be the scary parents on the sidelines. The parents that bore their children with their old war stories, yell and scream embarrassing things at the officials, yell and scream embarrassing words of encouragement at their children, and live vicariously through their children’s athletic accomplishments.