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I was unceremoniously ejected from the game, and my team ended up losing 2-1, having to play 10-on-11 for the rest of the game. Unknown to me, they had implemented a rule before the year that any goal celebrations resulted in an instant red card. Elated, I put my shirt over my head and did an airplane celebration, which had been a running joke for the team during practice all year. Miraculously, I scored my first and only goal of the season. Late in the first half with the game tied 0-0, I got put in at forward to rest the far superior players for the second half. In the end of the year tournament, we played our cross-town rivals in the championship game. This relegated me to standing on the side line for 90 percent of the game. I only played recreationally previously, unlike most players on the team who played on traveling teams. In my freshman year of high school, I played on the freshman soccer team.
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Dear Shane Ryan, First of His Name, Joker of the Realm, Groans from the sidelines I glance over to our bench and see my coach’s face buried in his hands.ġ4. So, between the confusion of my coach yelling at me to “roll the ball” and the panic setting in knowing that I had to get the ball in play in 5 4 3 seconds, I wound up and chucked the ball as hard as I could, bowling style, across the length of the court, zipping it past the teammate that was 10 feet in front of me and straight into the hands of an opposing player. I was, however, very familiar with the five-second inbound pass rule. Being new to the game and not quite familiar with all the rules, I didn’t realized that the clock doesn’t start until a player touches the ball, and that what the coach wanted me to do was to gently roll the ball inbounds so that my teammate could run alongside it without touching the ball until he got to midcourt in order to save some time on the clock. As I stepped out of bounds to inbound the ball to one of my teammates that was about 10 feet away, I looked over at my coach, who was yelling, “roll the ball!” while frantically making an underhand throwing motion. We were down by four points with about two minutes left in the game, and our opponents had just scored a basket. We were awful, but that day we were in the game until the end, playing our crosstown rivals on their home court. I was in sixth grade, playing my first year of organized basketball on the middle school B team. Sorry - I was traveling this week, and I wanted to start on a high note without having to exert myself beyond eating overpriced room service food.ġ5. Ten of these 15 stories will be redundant to About Last Night readers.
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We’re going to start this shebang with last week’s topic: Most Embarrassing Sports Moments. (In those old posts, the reader stories are at the bottom of the news items.) ALSO, at the bottom of this post, you’ll find this week’s question along with the e-mail address where you should send your stories. Turns out there are some funny SOBs among Grantland’s readership, and y’all just couldn’t be contained.Ĭaught up? In a sidebar with this post, you’ll find links to the older columns if you care to check them out. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, the gist is that we’ve already done this a few times within the About Last Night columns that run every morning, but now it has its own post. Those of you who have already joined the About Last Night party will recognize this as Participation Friday, re-branded. You e-mail, I read, and we print the top 15 every Monday. Examples used in the past have been “worst date,” “coldest breakup,” etc. “Reader’s Revenge” is the most basic of concepts - I ask you to write in with your personal stories on a weekly topic. All this extra sunlight must have given us a touch of the Vitamin D Madness that’s going around, because we’re about to turn Grantland over to you, the unpredictable, erratic reader. It’s Daylight Saving Time, and things are about to get weird.