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October 24, 2005
For 3
As big a sports fan as I am, my own personal list of Moments of Athletic Glory is...well...pathetic. I know that in Little League, I caught a fly ball; in my memory (possibly embellished over time) it was a running catch, but I do know that when the ball was hit in my general direction, the opposing coach told all his baserunners to take off at full speed. Ha ha.
Fast-forward 16 years (ouch). Yesterday, the Celtics held an open practice for season ticket holders; part of it was interactive. You could tour the locker room, get some autographs, and step out on the storied parquet floor and take a shot. I bricked 2 free throws - the less said, the better - did some of the other things, then got in the other shooting line.
So I'll set the scene. Under the basket, greeting fans and shagging rebounds, were Mark Blount and Ryan Gomes. Meeting people as they got to the front of the line was Brian Scalabrine (and in the good humor of what's to come, I won't at this time voice my opinion of Brian's play thus far). And hovering over that end of the court was Paul Pierce. I get to next-to-next in line behind a little kid. Scalabrine starts to give the kid some tips, so the Celtics flunky hands me the ball. I have a choice. A layup, my patented fallaway from the baseline....nah. I'm going for it all. 3-pointer.
Nailed it.
It may have scraped the back rim, but I choose to think it was, in the words of ESPN announcers, "NOTHIN but the bottom of the net". There was cheering. There were appreciative nods from Blount and Gomes. There was a handshake from the Truth.
Right then and there, I decided to retire, with a career shooting percentage from the floor of 1.000. It was, frankly, the best performance by the least in-shape person on the floor since the hefty Thomas Hamilton scored 13 against the Bullets in '96. It's not going to get my number up in the rafters, but I'll take it.
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Comments
Don't give up too soon. I can see it now...last game of the season, tied with Chicago for the final playoff spot (work with me here, optimists or pessiists), the bench is as shallow as the inflatable swimming pool your parents bought for you when you were six. Using their last timeout with two ticks left on the clock and down by three, Doc looks over to Paul and says, 'What do we do now?' Paul, running out of ideas, is distracted by a camera flash somewhere. He looks up into the stands and, instantly, remembers, and points.
'Him.'
An off-balance three pointer at the buzzer, mixed with a poorly timed foul by Tyson Chandler, and its the end of Teen Wolf all over again...just as long as there's a guy in the stands with his zipper down.
Posted by: Andy | October 25, 2005 08:16 AM
First-person sports journalism at its best. Now that George Plimpton is gone,,,,Thanks for sharing with your faithful readers.
Posted by: GreenieGirl | October 25, 2005 10:41 AM
As one who was there for both events I can say:
1) It was definitely "nothing but net"
2) It was a nice running catch in right center.
Posted by: Dad | October 26, 2005 06:42 PM
