I really wish I could play basketball, but it seems like the only options for games are the six-foot-tall monsters who just missed the draft, or the Asian foreign exchange students who couldn’t get into the badminton game. Essentially there is no middle class in pickup basketball games.
And it’s really frustrating, because that’s exactly where my skills lie. I have no natural talent, but I’m not a beginner. I know how to shoot the ball and take a dive and argue when no one can remember the score, but any sort of cutting into the paint or driving to the bucket are hopeless.
Basically, I would be an incredible basketball player if it were the early-1950s. I would be the Michael Jordan of 1950s basketball. For starters I would have revolutionized the game with my innovative above-hand shot. People would have no idea how to defend that. Decades of knocking the ball out of the hand of the underhand-shooter would be thwarted and I’d score left and right.
Until the day that someone in a black neighborhood said, “Let me give basketball a try,” I would dominate. I’m not saying that all black people play basketball. What I’m saying is that all black people play basketball better than me.
But if it were 1952, I could be the captain and star of the Sterling Cooper company basketball team. I could knock-up Peggy Olsen just by performing a dominating lay up while Don Draper took me over to his new firm. I’d languish on every other Sterling Cooper company team, namely the baseball and hat-wearing teams, but for basketball I would easily lead them to a Chelsea Piers trophy.