Fellas, those Harlem Globetrotters are working us over. I actually saw children in the stands laughing at us. Laughing! It's time to turn things around. We're down by 38, sure, but if we get out there and execute fundamental basketball, I honestly believe we can pull this one out and improve our series record to 2-13027.
First of all, if one of those Globetrotters spins the ball all over the place, then transfers the still-spinning ball on top of your head, don't just stand still and look up at it with crossed eyes. What the heck, guys?
That ball is basically yours. All you need to do is twirl around as quickly as you can in the same direction as the ball's rotation. If you do it fast enough, the basketball should lose momentum and roll off your head. That's when you grab it.
Here's another one. When you're dribbling and a Globetrotter points behind you, don't stop and look where he's pointing. They've racked up so many steals with that move alone that it's sickening. Just sickening. The next time they try it, look behind you, but keep dribbling.
Now, I thought we covered having our shorts pulled down in practice, but apparently we didn't drill hard enough because I'm seeing comical boxer shorts left and right out there.
If it happens to you, keep playing. Don't stand with your knees together and nervously hold your hands together in front of your privates. That won't get you anywhere. Finish the play, then talk to the ref. That is clearly a foul and should be called as such.
Let's say you've got the basketball and you're heading up the court, setting up a play. One of the Globetrotters approaches you with an offer: The basketball for a handful of magic beans. Three times this has happened tonight, and all three times the beans turned out to be ordinary. So do you take the offer?
No, you do not blindly accept. You call for a timeout. You have those beans verified by an independent expert on magic, such as the wizard in the crowd wearing a red, white and blue pointy hat. Then - and only then! - you accept.
I noticed that sometimes when you guys go to make a shot, you'll be distracted by the sight of a Globetrotter holding one of your loved ones hostage under the basket. The person you care about will be tied up and gagged, bruised and crying. Suspended above their head will be a bucket. The Globetrotter will indicate that the bucket is full of horrible acid. In order to save your loved one you will miss the shot on purpose, but the Globetrotter will simply laugh and tip the bucket over anyway. As you drop to your knees and recoil in horror, you will realize that the bucket was, in fact, full of confetti.
There are only two ways to counter this situation. One, break all ties with your family and friends, leaving no one to hold hostage. Two, sneak into the Globetrotters' locker room before the game and fill the bucket with actual acid. With any luck, the acid will eat through the bucket, leaving them with nothing to suspend above your loved one's head.
Do me a favor, guys. Cover your ears the moment you see one of the Globetrotters whip out that damned flute. I do not want to see this team marching single-file, stepping to the music as the power of the melody draws you ever onward. Never again. Please.
Where's my chalk? Ah, here. Okay, here's another thing to look out for. Let's say you're this X and you swing around the perimeter, avoiding that O. Suddenly this other O approaches from the paint and shoves a contract into your hand.
"Hurry", he says. "Sign this before the shot clock expires!"
You try to suss out the gist of the document, but the clock is ticking down. The pressure mounts. Just before the buzzer cuts in, you sign.
Terrible move. You just signed a binding contract to forfeit the game.
All right, that about wraps it up. Now let's go out there, play some solid basketball, and win this game. If nothing else, do it to live up to the Washington Generals uniform. Hey, why aren't your jerseys green and yellow? What's all this red, white, and blue? How come everyone in here seems so taller and more confident than usual?
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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