Phone's ringin' dude.
I don’t have nearly as many good stories as some of my other friends. But I like to think the ones I have are at least worthwhile, unlike myself. Without further adieu, here is one of my favorite stories of all time.
My sophomore year of high school was rough. At this point in my life I was still a little shy and not the outspoken class clown I would become by my senior year.
I played JV basketball that year for the New Philadelphia Quakers. We were horrible. As in 1-19 horrible, but we did win our last game.
Anyways, I started the season as a starter. At the time, I was not an offensive player. I wasn’t as inept as Adonal Foyle, but I was by no means our go to guy. I was an enforcer. I ran through screens, I knocked cutters on their ass, and I regularly beat the shit out of the two prim Donna freshmen that were on our team. And my coach loved me for it. He’s now the varsity coach and he still preaches defense and rebounding.
About eight games into the season my dad finally sold our house so after the season I was moving to Wooster, OH with him and my step mom. Until then I would live with my grandparents. I made the mistake of asking for a new emergency medical card and telling the varsity coach that I would be leaving after the season.
Needless to say I was naïve.
A little background info on varsity coach Bob Alsept. He replaced a very popular coach who took a bigger job after a good state tournament run my freshman year. He was an assistant at U of Akron and had no high school coaching experience. He was a douche bag. To the point that he resigned 3 games into the 1998-99 season (my frosh year at BG) after three seniors and two juniors (3 of them starters) refused to come back and play for him. Pretty awesome dude.
Back to the story. I went from starter to end of the bench. Without any explanation. But I figured it out pretty quickly. So I started beating the shit out of the four or five guys on the team that I didn’t like during practice. And like I said, we kept losing. And when I say lose, I mean that we only played one close game all season besides the one we won. And in that game our center missed a lay up on a picket fence in bounds play with about 4 seconds left.
So I only got into games with about 3 minutes left and we were down by 30. But there was a group of 5 of us that this was the only time we played. So I would basically go out and pick up about 3 good fouls and we would just bomb away and cut the lead down to like 20 against the other team’s scrubs.
We went up to Glenoak in Canton at some point late in the season. Their JV team was basically made up of football players. Big football players. So when I got in there I was looking to start something. I got into a jump ball tussle on a rebound with one of these Neanderthals and he ripped the ball away from me after the ref blew the whistle. So I punched him in the chest. Hard enough to knock him back a few steps. The kid came after me but the ref jumped right in and gave me a technical.
The best part about this was that my coach was so out of it that he wasn’t watching the game when this went down. He called me over and I told him that I didn’t hear the whistle and was going for the ball. And he bought it.
Apparently when the coaching staff was reviewing the game film, it was very evident that I slugged this kid on purpose and the coaches discussed it at some length (this is according to my buddy who was a manager). Alsept wanted to run me till I died. But it never happened. I think that it was because Coach Tidrick (we called him Coach Tid, Tit when he pissed me off) liked my attitude and he later told me that it killed him that he wasn’t supposed to play me.
Needless to say I transferred back to New Philadelphia before the next year because I hated my new school. And believe it or not, that SOB Alsept had the nerve to ask me if I was going out for basketball. I told him to kiss my ass. I got detention, but it was worth it.
By the way, Tid got me out of the detention.
My sophomore year of high school was rough. At this point in my life I was still a little shy and not the outspoken class clown I would become by my senior year.
I played JV basketball that year for the New Philadelphia Quakers. We were horrible. As in 1-19 horrible, but we did win our last game.
Anyways, I started the season as a starter. At the time, I was not an offensive player. I wasn’t as inept as Adonal Foyle, but I was by no means our go to guy. I was an enforcer. I ran through screens, I knocked cutters on their ass, and I regularly beat the shit out of the two prim Donna freshmen that were on our team. And my coach loved me for it. He’s now the varsity coach and he still preaches defense and rebounding.
About eight games into the season my dad finally sold our house so after the season I was moving to Wooster, OH with him and my step mom. Until then I would live with my grandparents. I made the mistake of asking for a new emergency medical card and telling the varsity coach that I would be leaving after the season.
Needless to say I was naïve.
A little background info on varsity coach Bob Alsept. He replaced a very popular coach who took a bigger job after a good state tournament run my freshman year. He was an assistant at U of Akron and had no high school coaching experience. He was a douche bag. To the point that he resigned 3 games into the 1998-99 season (my frosh year at BG) after three seniors and two juniors (3 of them starters) refused to come back and play for him. Pretty awesome dude.
Back to the story. I went from starter to end of the bench. Without any explanation. But I figured it out pretty quickly. So I started beating the shit out of the four or five guys on the team that I didn’t like during practice. And like I said, we kept losing. And when I say lose, I mean that we only played one close game all season besides the one we won. And in that game our center missed a lay up on a picket fence in bounds play with about 4 seconds left.
So I only got into games with about 3 minutes left and we were down by 30. But there was a group of 5 of us that this was the only time we played. So I would basically go out and pick up about 3 good fouls and we would just bomb away and cut the lead down to like 20 against the other team’s scrubs.
We went up to Glenoak in Canton at some point late in the season. Their JV team was basically made up of football players. Big football players. So when I got in there I was looking to start something. I got into a jump ball tussle on a rebound with one of these Neanderthals and he ripped the ball away from me after the ref blew the whistle. So I punched him in the chest. Hard enough to knock him back a few steps. The kid came after me but the ref jumped right in and gave me a technical.
The best part about this was that my coach was so out of it that he wasn’t watching the game when this went down. He called me over and I told him that I didn’t hear the whistle and was going for the ball. And he bought it.
Apparently when the coaching staff was reviewing the game film, it was very evident that I slugged this kid on purpose and the coaches discussed it at some length (this is according to my buddy who was a manager). Alsept wanted to run me till I died. But it never happened. I think that it was because Coach Tidrick (we called him Coach Tid, Tit when he pissed me off) liked my attitude and he later told me that it killed him that he wasn’t supposed to play me.
Needless to say I transferred back to New Philadelphia before the next year because I hated my new school. And believe it or not, that SOB Alsept had the nerve to ask me if I was going out for basketball. I told him to kiss my ass. I got detention, but it was worth it.
By the way, Tid got me out of the detention.
posted by CFunk28 at 1:31 PM
3 Comments:
Rebel...such a rebel.
By the way, I got not one but two ridiculous voicemails from John and Joe last Friday night. Offensive, ridiculous, and of course, hilarious. Are you still down to try and go out there for the Draft in April? Don't be scared.
Yeah, I got a voicemail too threatening me with bodily harm if I didn't come out there. And screaming at me for being in bed at 3:45 eastern time. I should know in another month if I'll be able to swing it. It'll just be a matter of how much I want to piss off my wife.
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