The Hater’s Guide to Sports: Volume I

Preface: If you know me well at all, you know that I harbor and express negativity. I possess strong opinions about even the most relatively innocuous of things, ranging from Michael Gambon’s portrayal of Dumbledore...



 to the fact that someone like Robin Thicke is famous. (Is there a more scathing indictment of modern society?) My friend once called me a misanthrope after I took to social media to condemn How I Met Your Mother. It should come as a surprise to no one, then, that sports – while one of my greatest sources of diversion and joy – also stirs my antipathy. If you likewise enjoy sports but prefer to nourish as rosy an outlook on them as possible, I beseech you to read no further. Fellow haters may read on and look forward to future installments. 

When I lived in Abilene, TX, my friends convinced me to venture two hours east one weeknight to attend a Newfound Glory concert. Despite my complete lack of familiarity with the band, the prospect of an evening in Dallas with two good friends was a welcome reprieve from self-inflicted graduate school angst. What I didn’t know, however, was that each of the lead acts could be summarily described as Kill-Yourself Metal. Lots of guttural moaning, wailing, nihilism, oppressive body odor and – sandwiched between it all – me, fending off hordes of moshing teenagers. It felt as though all the world’s Hot Topic patrons had suddenly descended upon me, eager to mate, fight, or possibly both. To say nothing of the hours spent waiting for NFG to take the stage or their subsequent performance, I came to a very important revelation that night: When deciding whether to attend musical events in the future, be selective.

In a similar spirit, I encourage everyone to exercise choice before deciding to engage in a game of pickup basketball, even if that was your sole purpose for going to the gym. Even though I’ve played the game for most of my life, I somehow forgot (until yesterday, apparently) that the basketball court is as much a magnet for punks and narcissists as the casino is for degenerates. Since I’ve already detailed my thoughts on a certain pickup basketball archetype elsewhere, I’ve decided to offer something constructive and accessible rather than singling out any one red flag. Fortunately, a cursory perusal of the game’s participants will reveal whether you should get in on the next game or content yourself with shooting free throws. Yes, this is an exercise of profiling a basketball court, in a manner of speaking. The good news is that the task is seldom difficult.

If you discern one or more of the following, kindly refuse:

• Multiple teenagers – neurology shows that their brains have not fully developed, making them less averse to risks, consequences, and committing felonies. Bear that in mind before engaging these feral life forms in an activity they may view as an opportunity to abandon all decorum and embrace their most base instincts.
  
• Hero ball – one or more players who shoot each and every time they touch the ball. The ripple effect is seen when teammates place hands on hips and remain stationary while our Hero acts as the dementor of the hardwood.
  
• Loud and repeated verbal altercations – these disputes are waged with a very limited range of vocabulary.
  
• A ball-handler consistently ignoring screens set for him – often a byproduct of hero ball in which help from a teammate may be regarded as an affront to Hero's individual scoring ability.
  
• An attempt at anything you've ever seen in an And 1 mixtape
• People who say "And 1" on the court 

Conversely, these are positive signs:

• People smiling – if other people seem to be having a good time while playing, there’s a good chance you will, too.
  
• Three or more passes on multiple possessions – the less dribbling, the better. Straight out of Norman Dale's playbook.
  
• Verbal encouragement – examples include, but are not limited to, “Nice pass!” and “Good D!”
  
• Noticeable and sustained effort – basketball (even in its most amateur expressions) reaches its full potential when everyone plays hard without displaying any of the aforementioned red flags.
  

Of course, my recommendations assume that you value the same things I do. I want to play hard, sweat, make my share of shots, and walk away without vivid fantasies of doing this to people. As you may have guessed, the criteria I have established eliminates many games you will encounter. In those situations, you will have to weigh your desperation to play against the flawless standards provided herein. Can you be satisfied when only rebounds and steals afford you the luxury of touching the ball? Will you risk teenagers throwing the ball at your head if you block their shots? Would you, as I would, deprive teenagers of many privileges if anointed emperor of the world? Such are the questions you must ask yourself. No matter how desperate you may be for competition, try to keep in mind that the game at hand probably won’t be your final opportunity or your only outlet. You, too, can say no to toxic pickup basketball.

In short, you must choose, but choose wisely. The quality pickup game will give you joy. The bad one…will take it from you.