Due to my 6'3" lurpy frame, there is one question I get on an almost daily basis.
"Do you play basketball?"
This question usually comes from people who don't know me, so they don't know how laughable it is.
I may have the height going for me, but I'm the guy on the team who regularly dribbles the ball with his face and completely misses the backboard when shooting from the free throw line.
When I was younger and we'd divide into teams, I could almost always count on being the last one picked, like those kids with bad acne, halitosis and a dandruff problem at school dances who are left watching all the coats and purses.
However, this didn't bother me because I'd already been exposed to the awful truth during my years in little league basketball.
My mom came to every game and filmed each one in their entirety. If I dug out the tapes, you would see hours of footage with all the action on one side of the court and me watching it from the other.
It looks pretty pathetic, but in my head, I had a brilliant plan. I knew that if I stayed in position across the court, as soon as the ball turned over, I would be in a prime position. On our end of the court, my teammates could pass me the ball and let me get an easy shot before everyone made it to my side. On their side, I would be in the right spot to prevent them from breaking away and getting an easy basket.
What was the one fatal flaw in this devious strategy? I neglected to mention it to any of my teammates or the coach.
As a result, they pretty much played an entire game with only 4 active players.