Good day, readers. It’s the Friday before Labor Day, and if you haven’t yet completely checked out from work for the long weekend, you have my permission to do so as soon as you finish reading this blog. I’ve already cleared it with your boss, so no worries. Also, this blog needs your help.
You already know you’re bad at sports. So Deadspin wants to know your most embarrassing or humiliating sports moment. Maybe the winning run scored because you let the easy grounder roll through your legs. Maybe no defender was in the same time zone when you dropped a sure touchdown. Maybe the only goal of your high school soccer career was an own goal. Whatever it is, if the simple recollection of it bores a pit the size of Kansas deep into your soul, we’d like to hear it! We did this five years ago, but that was five years ago. Hell, I’ll go first:
It was intramural basketball in college. I was on a team with several genuinely good players, including a really solid point guard and a super-strong, nimble post guy who nearly walked on to La Salle University’s actual team (he was one of the last cuts one year). My senior year, we won the La Salle title—and the title game was a blowout. But the real event was still to come: Philly’s six Division I schools had this tournament to crown a city champion, with the championship game to be played at the Palestra. I was dying to play at the Palestra.
The first round and the semifinals were at Drexel’s gym, all on the same day. We beat Temple in the first round—and Temple was good. Future Big 5 Hall of Famer Marc Jackson was their “coach,” and their team was comprised of a bunch of his boys. We then played Drexel in the semis, and we were winning by two late. I pulled down a defensive rebound in the waning seconds. Now, the smart play would have been to hold the ball and draw the foul. Readers, I did not make the smart play. I tried to dribble out, and of course someone took my candy and quickly dished it off to another dude for a game-tying layup just before the buzzer. We went on to lose in overtime. I’m honestly not sure I’ve played full-court pickup basketball since, and I remain sorry to all my teammates. You all deserved to play at the Palestra.
Okay, your turn. Leave your personal sports humiliation down in the comments. I’m gonna go lie down to stare at the ceiling until Tuesday.