5 to 2.
If it was the score of a hockey game you watched, you’d probably feel you had witnessed a typical game. If is was baseball, you’d probably think the pitchers did a pretty good job.
But a score of 5-2 in basketball? That’s crazy.
The winning basket in this Vermont high-school b’ball game came off a three-pointer in the second quarter.
I played some rec basketball at university (and damaged a knee doing it), but basketball never really grabbed me in any way. I was a pretty big Celtics fan for the last half of Larry Bird’s career, and I’ll watch the annual NCAA March Madness games, but that’s about it. I find the first 80 points each NBA team scores to be pretty boring, and the game only gets interesting in the final five minutes or so, assuming both teams still have a chance to win.
I cannot imagine watching this 5-2 test of fan endurance. I wonder if, at some point, the audience (if there were any who remained) began to hope and expect the two teams to not score.
The low-point of my basketball career came in grade 7 during gym class. We were learning to play the game and would play quick games. I was never really into it too much, and one time I was lolly-gagging around half-court, as the action was taking place under our net, when a team-mate passed me the ball. I was all alone with the ball, so I began to dribble down towards the opponent’s net. I dribblied, in fact, to right uner their net, stopped and looked up at the net directly above me. I had maneuvered myself into the one place on the court where I couldn’t really get a good shot at the net. So I looked around at the rest of the players, running down the court towards me. I knew I couldn’t dribble again because I’d be called for a double-dribble. I knew I couldn’t get a good shot, standing absolutely directly under the net. So, I did the next best thing. I passed to a team-mate who was in a better position to shoot.
As soon as I passed the ball, the teacher blew the whistle. I heard, in the high-sharp tweet of the whistle, the contempt and disbelief that the teacher was about thrust upon me. He stopped the game and bawled me out for being so stupid as to not take the shot, all by myself with no opposition players near me. I knew that explaining my position, or rather my poor position, would be futile, so I just sucked it up, let the teacher yell at me and call me a moron and have the rest of the class laugh at my folly.
A 5-2 basketball game. I could’ve been one of the Three Stars of that game.