Last night I went to the Warriors-Celtics game in Oakland with a buddy from work. The Warriors were getting demolished in the first half so all I had to look forward to was my next drink. We were sitting courtside 7 rows back and, as such, had access to the Club Bar. The Club Bar is never crowded like the concession stands and doesn't have that ridiculous "2 drink maximum, last beer served at end of 3rd Quarter" rule that has so often killed my buzz. My buddy and I took turns getting four drinks at a time (2 Belvedere and Tonics and 2 Crown and Cokes) throughout the first half. By halftime we were shit-housed.
The buzzer sounds at the end of the second quarter and out runs this gaggle of little people in green and white jerseys. I thought I was seeing things. Half the kids bolted to the sideline and a 5 on 5, full court game broke out. Apparently, when I was paying too close attention to one of my crown and cokes, the hoops had been lowered to seven feet and somebody had tossed the ball up for tip-off to a 10 minute scrimmage. Three minutes in and the game had gone nowhere. No one had made a basket. It wasn't until the 5-minute mark that anyone hit the damn rim when, finally, the biggest kid on the floor purposefully grabbed a rebound, started looking around and freaked. He launched the ball toward center court into the hands of the opposing team.
It's at this point that I got suspicious. I got out of my seat, drink(s) in hand and walked OVER the 6 rows of seats in front of me to get a good look at the kids. I almost fell over. It turns out that we were witnessing a scrimmage of the under-13 Bay Area Special Olympics Basketball Team. Tards! Real tards! And there were 16 of them--though I can't be sure because I was counting running and fidgeting little people in a drunken fog.
Most of the tards were just standing around waiting to get the ball, but a couple of the kids--conveniently split between sides--had real skills. One kid had a real nice jumper. Another--I'm not sure if he was Lebanese, Iranian, Mexican (how can you really tell when it's a tard with a unibrow)--has the Tim Hardaway Killer Crossover down to perfection. His only problem was, once he finished with his dribbling exhibition, he had no idea what to do with the ball. Someone would eventually have to come over, grab the ball, and make yet another in a series of ill-advised tard shots.
Time is winding down now and the score is 10-4. I'm screaming at the team in white to get it together and take some good shots but they won't listen to me (it might be worth noting here that upon discovering we were watching tard basketball, my buddy and I each picked a side and bet the next round of drinks on the outcome--I picked the white team). As I am yelling at the top of my lungs for the big tard to "Box out! Box out, goddamnsonuvabitch, Box out!" the PA announcer comes on and says, "OK people, we're coming down to the wire in FIVE, FOUR, THREE..."
It's 10-4 and this really skinny tard on my team has the ball and is driving down court. I start yelling "PULL UP, PULL UP," and he pulls up just inside the NBA 3point line at the top of the key and BURIES a jumper at the buzzer. The best part of my skinny tard's shot was that as he shot it he made that little bounce and wrist cock that pro and college players make when they know their shot is going in. As it goes in, his whole team--both sides of the tard scrimmage--mob him in a big, sloppy tard-pile. The crowd is cheering. I'm going fuckin' crazy even though my team just lost and I have to go to the bar and drop 30 plus tip on 4 under-sized cocktails. I'm shouting, "MONEY, THAT WAS MONEY, MY BOY IS MONEY!"
People are staring. My buddy is seated crippled with laughter. I start cracking up with him sloshing my drink on the seats in front of me. Then, out of nowhere, almost on cue, the tardpile scatters and all the kids race to center court for a team photo. You couldn't have beaten the smiles off their faces. The photographer snaps a couple of great shots, tells them he's done and, I swear to god, the whole team takes a victory lap around the court! They're getting high fives from the media guys on the other side of the court and fans sitting behind the players benches. Not willing to miss a single MOMENT of this, I leap over the 6 rows in front of me again (spilling my vodka tonic down my leg) and give each one of them a high five. It was awesome! They made a full circuit, stopped, waved to everyone with that limber, non-jointed tard wave that has become the trademark of tard greetings, and bolted off the floor. I challenge ANYONE to come up with better halftime show entertainment than pre-teen tard basketball.
Posted by nils at 8:28 PM