Rasheed Wallace is a toaster?

I'm lost.
How does Carmelo's game resemble salsa? What does Rasheed Wallace have to do with a toaster? This guy watches too much basketball on TV. The heart and soul of the game, as I've said before, is not in the league but on in the various Churches of the Hardwood. Still, got to give props to my ex-Writing Center colleague for pulling off this book.

Election day: it's game time

[via the Sporting Blog]

Baller in Chief

The Church of the Hardwood cannot stay on the sidelines--ok, the bench--any longer. Not that anyone cares, but, for the record, CotH endorses Barack Obama for Baller in Chief. (You're cool with that, right, Stat Boy?)

A rising tide lifts all jumpshots

So I guess the CofH tries to keep politics out of hoops (or maybe only officially), but after today's run, I couldn't help but notice an interesting correlation:

- Attendance at church of the hardwood: up. Slowly rising all semester, today we set a record (at least in my tenure) with 18 ballers. We had a game of 5s and a game of 4s at one point in time.

- Enthusiasm for the NBA season: up.

- Support for Obama: up.

We've documented Obama's love of hoops previously, but does the public's love of Obama carry over to the court? Does voter turnout = church of the hardwood turnout?

Hoops with Obama

Yea, we know Obama likes to hoop it up.

But what kind of a player is he? I'm dying to know. Is he the selfless type who makes all the players around him better? Is he the whiner, who screams every time he misses a shot? Maybe he's the coach type, the guy who's always critiquing your game. For my part, I hope he's the self-denigrating type, the guy who makes all the hustle plays and makes consistent jumpers but is constantly talking down his game. I don't know, but Barack, if you're out there and you need a fifth, I'll run witch ya.

Touch the Rim

V.T.'s really falling down on the job here. Over two weeks since the last post. He'll blame it on the teaching (don't they understand his real job?)

V.T. experienced a euphoric sensation yesterday: he inadvertently touched the rim while trying to block a shot. It was almost goaltending! It's been four years and several ankle and knee injuries since V.T. touched the rim. But suddenly, he felt it. Almost jammed his finger on it.

V.T. has this recurring dream of floating in the sky towards the rim. He's about to throw down a monster dunk but has to abort the dunk because he's going to break his teeth on the rim.

Dirty Old Guys

Why are Old Guys so dirty? They claw and scratch. If you get by them, they trip you. You get position on them down low, they grab your arms. They stick their jagged elbows in your chest.

V.T. got headbutted by a Dirty Old Guy last week. He still has a sore, purple eye socket as a souvenir. The Dirty Bastard then took the ball out, as if V.T. FOULED HIM!

V.T. prays to the basketball gods that he'll hang up the sneakers before he becomes one of these Dirty Old Guys.

Presidential Hoops: A One Act Play

We now have two ballers in the presidential race. Obama still plays pick-up, but Palin was once a state champion point guard. Let us imagine a one-on-one game between Sarah Barracuda and Black Sweatpants.

Black Sweatpants: Ok, let's shoot for the ball.

Barracuda (banking in a two-footer): Sweet. My ball.

Sweatpants (not really playing defense, but trying to show Barracuda some respect): The point guard position is about ball distribution. An unselfish position.

Barracuda: And hitting clutch shots. (the ball rims out). Foul!

Sweatpants: I respect your calls. Your ball.

Barracuda (launching a three before Obama checks it out): Foul!

Sweatpants: Foul? You didn't even check it.

Barrucada: You hit my arm, Barack. It was flagrant.

Sweatpants: Fine. Call your own fouls.

Barracuda (dribbling into Obama, who puts his arms straight in the air): Another foul. That's blocking. Golly, did you ever learn the rules of this game? Maybe that's how you people play. Street ball.

Sweatpants: Enough! That was a charge. Let's look at the replay. It will be clear that you dribbled into me when I had position. That's called a charge!

Barracuda: There's no replay in pick-up, mister. And I'm up 1-0. The clock is ticking. Two minutes left and I've got to get back to moose hunting. Your ball, smartypants.

Sweatpants (makes an elegant crossover that leaves Palin frozen): You're out of practice, Sarah. (Fading away, Obama releases a beautiful jumpshot that goes straight through the net). That's it! Now we're tied and it's my ball.

Barracuda (arms circling around one another): Come on, Barack, you know you shuffled your feet. That's traveling.

(Enter campaign aides, impatiently tapping their feet).

Aides: Sorry kids, but there are interviews to do, funds to raise, spots to film. The game's over.

Barracuda (to Aide): Make sure you get this down: Palin 1, Obama 0.

Keep Hope Alive!

Before Jesse Jackson was cutting nuts off, he liked to say "Keep hope alive!"

And that's the message Vanilla Thunder would like to impart to his fellow ballers in Texas: "Keep hope alive!"

Keep up the Church, fellas. There's some rumors out there that the church is dying. That odd numbers are showing up. It's tough to split up teams with odd numbers.

Keep the Church alive!

Peace out,
V.T.

Summer Vacation

[inspired by/with apologies to: indexed]