It's Intramural Basketball Season Again

On Thursday mornings I meet with a few tenth graders at Rick's Bakery; they are always late. Today I slept till 7, the time when we were supposed to arrive. They still weren't there when I came in. My cousin Gabe was; he and another guy, Nick, always meet at the same time. They get there on time. Or maybe they just get there before I do. I can't imagine when they get up. Probably like 6:30. Vampires are still awake at 6:30; I stay inside until the sun rises.

The guys I meet with are goofballs - they're all clever and odd. Two of them today told me they're playing on Gabe's intramural basketball team. They're very excited - they say the team will be banging. I told them that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I backed that up with the fact that I'm in college. When you're older, you might understand how stupid that phrase is. Or how inflated your preception of my coolness is.

Before Gabe left, he came over to tell me about his game on Saturday. The name of his team is Dangle on 'em. I apologized to my guys and said, Gabe, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I'm a senior. In the honors college. And I can identify innuendo when I hear it. But he said he didn't know what the phrase meant. We have a full basketball court in our driveway, with two goals and regulation lines painted in white. Apparently, during the summer, random people would stop in and challenge Gabe to basketball. And one Hindu kid, Rumi, had a sick shot and would shout, "Dangle on 'em!"every time the ball went up. Gabe swore to the truth of this story. He said my mom has a picture of it.

When I was a senior, our team was named Da Grillz. We had a .500 winning precentage. We ran a play I called the Hive, where the four players without the ball would surround the point guard and slowly move forward, making a buzzing noise and, if provoked, stinging the other team by slapping them in the face. There was only one fight.

We had a mix tape for warm ups. We had our own jerseys, but we only wore them during the first game, before the Boys and Girls Club made us take them off. That was okay with me. I was the only one who played high school basketball, but David and Bo had previously ironed "C's" over the heart, claiming to be team captains. They weren't captains - at best they were NCO's. I was the captain - colonel - commander. I invented the Hive. I INVENTED IT.

(In the above picture, it's David that is on the shoulders of Matt Garrett and Lee Dykes. I'm off to the left without my jersey, and with glasses and big metal braces. I've always wanted to be carried off a court. You did this to me, David.)

I told Gabe about the Hive. He said that would work well with their team shirts, which are completely orange with the words "Dangle on 'em" screenprinted in purple; the mass of color would confuse and frighten opponents. I told him I vomited Chef Boyardee onto a life raft and it spelled out "HELP," but in those same colors. We both agreed it was a coincidence.

This Never Happened

During the Christmas break I am not as popular as I once was. I hang out a lot with my parents. I've beaten two video games. I go to my brother's 4A basketball games for entertainment. There's not a lot going on. So when I want to be social, I spend time with Harlin's friends.

Harlin is a senior in high school; he goes to Shiloh Christian, where he transferred to from Fayetteville High two years ago, so there's a mix of guys who come over. Previously, I knew their names. Now I'm up to date on each man's romantic problems. I give them advice, because they don't know my track record.

We call the room I sleep in the cave; it can sleep seven guys comfortably. There's a queen, a single, a couch, and a bunk bed with a double for a bottom. It's also where the television is. When I go in there, I bring a sack lunch and a trash can for when I get motion sickness from the Pankration.

I spent last night hanging out with Harlin and four of his friends. We played video games and ordered pizza from Mordor's. We didn't pick it up. Apparently they blacklist your number for that. I took the double bed. After we turned out the lights, someone threw a pillow at me, then we started talking about girls. They came to me for advice. High schoolers make me feel important.

At one point, Tyler, who was sleeping on the couch, got up to use the bathroom; Gabe, my cousin, decided to scare him. He stood in the closet that the couch was pushed up against and awaited Tyler's return. But when Tyler came back, he immediately began talking about Gabe's ex-girlfriend. He went around the room, asking everyone if they thought she was pretty. I said, no doubt. Then he asked Gabe, and Gabe didn't respond. Tyler put a hand on Gabe's shoulder, and told him that he could come out of the closet.

I have a story I tell about two of my friends, Ed and Ricky, who were co-counselors at War Eagle. Ed is tall and super skinny; Ricky is a big boy. Ed loved to pester Ricky. One night, very late, the two were walking back to the cabin from time off when Ricky stopped to talk to someone else. Ed went on and, in a bit of cleverness, hid under Ricky's covers, hoping to scare Ricky like he often did. However, Ricky took quite a bit longer than expected to get back. When he pulled down his covers, his found Ed sleeping in his bed. He woke Ed up, and immediately Ed said, "This never happened." Then Ed got in his own bed.

Thirty minutes later Ed scared Ricky. Ricky stayed up to read by a red headlamp, and Ed, ever so stealthily, slipped out of his bunk and army crawled over to Ricky. Ricky had a bunk in the corner of the cabin, and Ed says that when he jumped up, Ricky spent two terrified seconds trying to claw his way through the wooden wall.

The terrible thing is, Gabe was broken up with.

Who Was Bill Brasky?

Fayetteville High School held class officer elections last week. My cousin Gabe ran for senior class president. Gabe, I think, is not popular - but that's not to say he isn't cool. He tall and skinny and self depreciating (see photo). He overacts, and would make a perfect techie sidekick to any action hero. But he isn't the action hero that wins the school election; there can only be one Highlander.

I was told by a guy I mentor that on the day of elections, Gabe and his small group of loyal friends dressed in suits, then stood outside the high school and shook the hands of every single student attending class that day. Then he lost. But I thought his campaign strategy was extremely classy, and I would have voted for him, if I had been allowed to.

I'm not allowed to vote in FHS elections anymore, one, because I'm not a student (probably the first issue that would come up if I tried to vote), but more interestingly, two, because I sabotaged those very same elections my senior year.

As a senior, I was far beyond running for class officer - I only wanted to screw up everyone else's attempts to do so. I created a fake person, Bill Brasky, and got the required amount of signatures to insert him into the race for sophomore class president. Then, my friends and I began an aggressive viral marketing campaign, printing hundreds of flyers that only read, "WHO IS BILL BRASKY?" and wallpapering the school with them like ads for Italian political parties. Then I left school, so as to not be present when Bill was unmasked.

Bill won. To this day, I am not sure how. It is possible the sophomores did not care at all. For my part, I got into hot water with the student council president - then we got out, leaped into the pool, then jumped back into hot water, because that's always a rush. But that was the extent of the trouble. The principal actually encouraged me to take the ACT as Bill. I only wish Gabe had put his effort into destroying the system, instead of cooperating with it.