My dream starting five — basketball_team 🇺🇸

Matchday 1 — vs Detroit Engine-Roar

81-126 (L)

Bucket for Detroit Engine-Roar. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

Drake splits the coverage with a bounce pass you need slow motion to appreciate. Dimes. OHHHH! Muhammad Ali went up looking for a poster and came back down as the punchline.

Box-out from a grown man there. Muhammad Ali seals, elevates and SNATCHES it out of the air with two hands. The activist just threw an outlet that traveled farther than most people commute. Absurd. OHHHH the speed of Judas Iscariot! Nobody in this building was catching him.

Detroit Engine-Roar again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Robert Bobroczkyi just gift wrapped three free throws on a heat check.

Off to the locker room. Drake has already drained two water bottles. Little secret: Drake watches cat videos between quarters. Says it's relaxing. And now, our halftime TV game show Deal or No Deal or Maybe! To win a novelty belt buckle roughly the size of a hubcap, text HOOPS to 555-0396 and answer this question: 'What is the top speed of a shopping cart with one bad wheel?' Break's over, the players take their positions.

That is the pass nobody puts on a highlight reel, and Barack Obama makes it every single trip down the floor. The movie actor/actress just caught a lob at the top of the rim and hammered it! That is nowhere in the job description!

Stone silence for one second, then Drake lets out something that is not really a word, more a sound from the basement of a human being. Barack Obama answers with the same noise. The arena joins in. There is no language left in this building.

Dagger from Detroit Engine-Roar. You could hear the air leave this arena on that one.

The community organizer is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. The help defender committed way too early, and Judas Iscariot made him pay for it with a spin they will be replaying all week. Missed layup for the player and the whole arena groans as one. Great hands in the day job, apparently they do not travel.

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, Detroit Engine-Roar, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

Punish the help, that is the rule, and Judas Iscariot just did it by hitting Barack Obama on the back side with acres of room. A single dribble is all Barack Obama needed to get downhill, and the back side of that defense is in complete disarray. The community organizer had two points in the bank and the iron took them right back out. You do not get heartbreak like that in the day job.

Cross court, on a rope, from the movie actor/actress. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. Nobody dribbled, nobody isolated, Robert Bobroczkyi and Muhammad Ali just played basketball and the defense got shredded. Watch the feet on Robert Bobroczkyi there, still drifting sideways at the release, and that is exactly why the floater sails wide left of everything.

Robert Bobroczkyi goes fishing at the point of attack, the ball handler feels the hand on his elbow, and the arm goes straight up.

And there it is, a walk-in layup for Detroit Engine-Roar with not one hand raised in the paint. Somebody has to protect that rim.

Whistle! Muhammad Ali gets him on the arm. Personal foul, nothing clever about it. Muhammad Ali slides in late on the drive, the official punches the fourth, and the coach is already waving for a sub.

Robert Bobroczkyi hacks the arm on purpose, then throws both hands up like he has never touched a soul in his life. Nobody is buying it.

Muhammad Ali snaps at the bench on his way out. Drake says nothing, but his look says everything. And here is the answer to our game Deal or No Deal or Maybe! Marlene Hufnagel of North Elbow, Wisconsin, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the top speed of a shopping cart with one bad wheel?' The answer was of course whatever speed produces the most noise. Marlene takes home a novelty belt buckle roughly the size of a hubcap! Tonight I learned Muhammad Ali used to be a community organizer before basketball. Found out during a timeout. Threw me off completely. We're out! And now, 'House Hunters: Broom Closet Edition.' Cozy open concept.

Matchday 2 — vs Miami Heart-Attack

75-120 (L)

Muhammad Ali times the leap perfectly, taps it back to the wing, and the first possession of the night belongs to us.

Count it and the foul. Brutal. Miami Heart-Attack with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

The community organizer runs a dribble handoff with the timing of a fifteen-year vet. Not bad for somebody who does this on weekends. Judas Iscariot whips the extra pass across the arc, Robert Bobroczkyi rises without a dribble, and SPLASH.

Ohhh no. Corner three, Miami Heart-Attack in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

OHHHH the hesi! Drake froze him solid and he is already gone! Three free throws for the movie actor/actress! That is the single most expensive mistake in basketball, and a person with a real day job just engineered it.

Halftime! Barack Obama checks his stats on the board and winces. True story: Barack Obama walked into the wrong locker room during his first game against Miami Heart-Attack. Awkward. And now, our halftime TV game show American Idle! To win a two-year subscription to a newsletter about gravel, text HOOPS to 555-0059 and answer this question: 'What is the recommended number of nacho cheese pumps per tray?' Jump ball to restart. Let the second half begin!

Cold blooded from Miami Heart-Attack, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

Reverse it, make them slide all over again, that is how Judas Iscariot breaks a shell down. This is the counter: Robert Bobroczkyi punished a defense that kept going under, and now they have to rip up the game plan. The movie actor/actress launched one from the logo as the horn sounded. In fairness, nobody in that huddle gave him a better option.

Turnover, layup, Miami Heart-Attack straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

Onions from the sideline! The head man eats a technical standing up for Robert Bobroczkyi, and that entire bench LOVED it.

Judas Iscariot launches it weak side, one pass, and the whole shell has to sprint. Good luck with that. Watch Barack Obama plant his feet, absorb the hit, and spring Muhammad Ali out of that corner in a blink. Oldest play in the book and it still works: Muhammad Ali passes, the defender peeks at the ball, and that one beat is the whole possession. Nasty finish. Muhammad Ali hangs, adjusts in midair, and drops it through.

Across half court, a quick survey, a point to the weak side, and Barack Obama drops it off to Muhammad Ali on time and on target. Muhammad Ali hands it off to Barack Obama, slices through the seam, and the return pass is sitting there waiting at the rim. The activist tried the teardrop and never got it to the rim. Turns out soft touch does not come standard with that day job.

More second chance points for Miami Heart-Attack, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

Barack Obama comes off the screen and the big man drops WAY back. Judas Iscariot just fades to the arc for the cleanest look of the night. Judas Iscariot beat the clock by a tenth of a second and missed by about four feet. Technically legal, competitively pointless.

Drake flies at a jump shooter thirty feet from the rim and lands on his hip. Three shots coming. Nothing but trouble ahead for Drake. Third foul, and this crew is calling it tight on both ends of the floor.

The strategy of the desperate, executed to perfection by Barack Obama. Foul, stop the clock, pray at the other end, repeat.

Robert Bobroczkyi shakes Judas Iscariot's hand in silence. Not a word. Just a look that says it all. And here is the answer to our game American Idle! Lamar Twitty of Little Sandy Corner, Delaware, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the recommended number of nacho cheese pumps per tray?' The answer was of course three, and anything past three is a lifestyle. Lamar takes home a two-year subscription to a newsletter about gravel! My evening? I spent it holding back tears. Of joy? Of exhaustion? Both. Off to bed! And now: 'Jeopardy: Cafeteria Trivia Edition.'

Matchday 3 — vs Orlando Magic-Beans

87-131 (L)

OHHHH he SNATCHED that tip! Muhammad Ali rips it out of the air and we are off.

More second chance points for Orlando Magic-Beans, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

The player just made the extra pass with a clean look of his own! You do not run into that kind of selflessness at the office! Rim, backboard, none of the above from the activist! Ladies and gentlemen, that is a person with a real job, and we have all just been reminded of it.

Turnover, layup, Orlando Magic-Beans straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

Muhammad Ali just took a shoulder to the chest to buy Judas Iscariot half a second, and half a second in this league is an eternity. The player just put somebody on a POSTER! That defender is going to see this clip for the rest of his life!

Judas Iscariot freezes in his follow-through, wrist still hanging, and holds it while the Orlando Magic-Beans coach burns a timeout out of pure desperation. He holds it through the whistle. He holds it into the huddle. The cameras eat every single second of it.

Halftime! Judas Iscariot is limping slightly heading off the court. Little secret: Judas Iscariot watches cat videos between quarters. Says it's relaxing. And now, our halftime TV game show Whistle While You Guess! To win a five year supply of individually wrapped mints from a bank lobby, text HOOPS to 555-1291 and answer this question: 'How many times does a referee blink during a single overtime period?' Back at it! The players jog toward center court.

Cold blooded from Orlando Magic-Beans, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

Nobody told the player that a duel like this was supposed to be above his pay grade, and it is a beautiful thing to watch.

And there it is, a walk-in layup for Orlando Magic-Beans with not one hand raised in the paint. Somebody has to protect that rim.

That is the pass that beats a zone, and Judas Iscariot threw it before the help even committed. This is the work that never shows up on a stat sheet, Drake gets the credit and the guy setting the screen gets the bruise. Day job, then this: the movie actor/actress reads a rolling big like a coach with twenty years on the bench. That is body control you simply cannot coach: Judas Iscariot stays up a full beat longer than everybody else and finishes clean.

Judas Iscariot kicks it over to Muhammad Ali, no dribble, no drama, and this offense settles into a rhythm. Look how low Muhammad Ali keeps that shoulder on the drive, that is how you turn a sliver of space into a walk to the rim. Gift wrapped by Judas Iscariot, and Muhammad Ali cannot finish the two footer. That one is going to sting.

Muhammad Ali gets it on the reversal and now this defense is rotating, scrambling and losing ground, all because Drake saw it a beat early. Robert Bobroczkyi eats the contact so Muhammad Ali can run free along the baseline, and the catch-and-shoot look is right there. Nobody moved, nobody cut, nobody set a screen, so Muhammad Ali launches a contested jumper with the horn already going. Ugly offense.

Set called, Drake waved out to the corner, and Barack Obama watches the spacing open up like a front door. The movie actor/actress pulls out the crossover of his life, and Monday morning he clocks in like nothing ever happened. Perfect drop-off from Robert Bobroczkyi, and Drake answers with... whatever that was. Off the glass, off the rim, and gone.

Right through the window. Barack Obama to Drake on the roll, and the help was a half step late. Straight back to the office for the movie actor/actress, and the group chat has already seen it twice.

Count it and the foul. Brutal. Orlando Magic-Beans with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

Right on time, not a half step late. Robert Bobroczkyi makes that ball handler pull it back out with absolutely nothing to show for it. This is the work that never shows up in a box score, and Robert Bobroczkyi just took two points off the board without a single stat.

Drake has bags under his eyes that weren't there before the game. Barack Obama has aged ten years in forty minutes. And here is the answer to our game show Whistle While You Guess! Wilma Jean Puckett of Sorghum Switch, Kansas, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How many times does a referee blink during a single overtime period?' The answer was of course exactly 1,412 times, and 1,413 if the arena air conditioning is broken. Wilma Jean therefore wins a five year supply of individually wrapped mints from a bank lobby! On my end, I discovered the arena's coffee machine was broken. The game nearly went uncommentated. Alright, good night! Up next: 'Secret Life of Your Mailman.' Episode 47.

Matchday 4 — vs Philadelphia Injury-Report

76-121 (L)

OHHHH the pin-down! Barack Obama pops out clean while the defender is STILL tangled up with Muhammad Ali. Brutal. The community organizer gets it handed over on a silver platter at point blank range and drops it. Somewhere in this building a coach is questioning every decision that led here.

Count it and the foul. Brutal. Philadelphia Injury-Report with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

Clear path on Barack Obama. Two shots AND the ball. That is the expensive one. The temperature in this arena just jumped. Barack Obama took a dangerous hit, both benches are on their feet, and the officials have peacekeeping to do.

The community organizer makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. Baseline wide open. Judas Iscariot said thank you. Robert Bobroczkyi threads a BEAUTY to Judas Iscariot under the rim and... he lays it off the bottom of the iron! Ohhhh, no.

Turnover, layup, Philadelphia Injury-Report straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

Rest time. Judas Iscariot isolates in a corner of the locker room, headphones on. Did you know Judas Iscariot knits to unwind? Made a scarf in Philadelphia Injury-Report's colors. By accident, obviously. And now, our halftime TV game show Press Your Luck Harder! To win a bumper sticker collection covering one entire tailgate, text HOOPS to 555-0362 and answer this question: 'In what year was the jump ball invented by accident during a barn raising?' Back for the second half. The coach slammed his fist on the table.

Late rotation from Judas Iscariot, he arrives half a beat behind the drive and the contact is obvious to everybody in the building.

More second chance points for Philadelphia Injury-Report, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

Unselfish basketball. Drake passes up a good shot and hands Judas Iscariot a GREAT one. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! That was IN for Judas Iscariot!

Here is the part that never makes the highlight package: Barack Obama controlling tempo, burning clock, hunting the mismatch the second one shows up. Read, screen, delivery, right on the money. A player making the right pass every single time, and the league is taking notes. Robert Bobroczkyi blows the wide open layup!

Philadelphia Injury-Report again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

A movie actor/actress breaking down a professional defender in front of a sold out house! Remember that day job, folks! It went halfway down! The ball sat in the cylinder, thought about it, and rolled off the far side on Drake. Cruel.

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, Philadelphia Injury-Report, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

The community organizer just threaded a pocket pass through two defenders. Where exactly did that vision come from? So close. Robert Bobroczkyi can only stare at the iron.

Over the top of everybody. Drake to Barack Obama in the corner, wide open, catch and rise. Baseline spin from Barack Obama at full speed, and his man never even gets a hand into the picture. Filthy stuff. They do not teach that footwork anymore, and yet here is Barack Obama running a full masterclass on the low block.

One finger to the sky, held there, eyes closed in the middle of all that noise, and Barack Obama does not move. The arena figures it out and quiets for a beat. Robert Bobroczkyi puts a hand on his back and says nothing, then the sound comes back like a wave.

Timeout. Tablet out. And every line the coach draws starts with Judas Iscariot. Look at the spacing here, two shooters lifting to drag the help, and that leaves Barack Obama an easy read to Robert Bobroczkyi in the pocket. Chess.

Barack Obama sits on the bench, staring into nothing. Muhammad Ali has his head in his hands. And here is the answer to our game show Press Your Luck Harder! Bobbi Sue Yarborough of Sawmill Bottom, Georgia, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'In what year was the jump ball invented by accident during a barn raising?' The answer was of course 1871, in a hayloft, by two men arguing about a rooster. Bobbi Sue therefore wins a bumper sticker collection covering one entire tailgate! Confession: I bet against my favorite team tonight. Superstition. It works half the time. We're signing off. And now: 'Musical Chairs: Subway Seat Edition.' Winner takes all.

Matchday 5 — vs Phoenix No-Defense

89-133 (L)

The activist just out-jumped a guy half a foot taller for the opening tip. Somebody check the day job again.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Drake put that man in a blender and the third row felt it! The movie actor/actress just had his shot delivered into the courtside seats. Tough scene, but at least the day job is safe.

Cold blooded from Phoenix No-Defense, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

Hard drive, hard stop, and Drake retreats into an ocean of open hardwood. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Two points in every gym in America except this one, and Drake is walking back with both hands on his head.

More second chance points for Phoenix No-Defense, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

The players disappear. Judas Iscariot has a makeshift neck brace out of a towel. Confession: Judas Iscariot calls mom after every loss. And every win. And also on Tuesdays. And now, our halftime TV game show Pawn Stars of the Neighborhood! To win a corn dog the size of a mailbox, already gone cold, text HOOPS to 555-0433 and answer this question: 'What is the average airspeed of a paper airplane thrown from the upper deck?' On to the next chapter. The court is just waiting for the ball.

One hard jab step and Robert Bobroczkyi is leaning the wrong way, and the drive goes right past his shoulder. Barack Obama got the ball, but he got it on the way down, and they are awarded the two anyway.

And there it is, a walk-in layup for Phoenix No-Defense with not one hand raised in the paint. Somebody has to protect that rim.

That is the second personal charged to Muhammad Ali and the bench is already staring at the clipboard. Foul trouble rewrites a rotation in a hurry. Fouled out. Muhammad Ali gets a standing ovation on the walk off, and he earned every single decibel of it.

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, Phoenix No-Defense, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

Barack Obama feels the contact, spins off that shoulder, and the defender is left hugging a whole lot of nothing. The community organizer gets it handed over on a silver platter at point blank range and drops it. Somewhere in this building a coach is questioning every decision that led here.

Bucket for Phoenix No-Defense. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

That is a self-created look of the highest order, and there might be five guys in this league who get to it on demand the way Drake does. That is a forced shot from the movie actor/actress that was doomed the moment it left the hand, and the bench has quietly decided to look at the floor for a moment.

Push the pace! Barack Obama grabs it and hits Muhammad Ali in stride before the defense can even match up. Working him at the top of the key, low dribble, low dribble, then Muhammad Ali rips it across and his man lunges at a ghost. Two points left on the floor by Muhammad Ali, and those are exactly the ones that come back to bite you in the fourth.

Ice in his veins for a guy who answers to community organizer the rest of the week. Professional shot, amateur resume. The player just created that shot from scratch and drained it. Not bad for somebody clocking in at a real job tomorrow morning.

Drake rips it back into the stepback and suddenly there is a country mile between him and that defender. Perfect arc. Drake makes seven feet of rim protection completely irrelevant.

Judas Iscariot and Robert Bobroczkyi walk side by side without looking at each other. The silence is deafening. And here is the answer to our game Pawn Stars of the Neighborhood! Bud Applewhite of Cornbread Hill, Oregon, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the average airspeed of a paper airplane thrown from the upper deck?' The answer was of course roughly one usher per second. Bud takes home a corn dog the size of a mailbox, already gone cold! Your favorite commentator survived. It's not much, but it's honest work. See you soon. And now: '911: My Cat Climbed on Top of the Wardrobe.'

Matchday 6 — vs Los Angeles Nursing-Home

75-119 (L)

Swing, swing, and Judas Iscariot finds Barack Obama on the wing before the help can even turn its head. Nobody is getting a hand near that. Barack Obama has all the room in the world. Long miss from the community organizer and the rebound goes the other way, but let the record show that most people in that line of work never even get to take that shot.

Turnover, layup, Los Angeles Nursing-Home straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

The player just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. They do not teach that in the community organizer handbook, and yet here we are. Beautiful little exchange. Somewhere a defender is explaining to his family why the activist is going to be on the front page tomorrow morning.

SKIP PASS! Drake fires it cross court to Robert Bobroczkyi and the defense is dead in the water! Two guys on the exact same page, Robert Bobroczkyi and Barack Obama, and the defense is left holding a bag of nothing. Robert Bobroczkyi takes two dribbles past halfcourt, rises from thirty five feet, and the net barely moves. Filthy.

Bucket for Los Angeles Nursing-Home. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

Break. Barack Obama collapses on the locker room floor, arms spread wide. Small detail: Barack Obama wears mismatched socks every game. Calls it a strategy. And now, our halftime TV game show Concentration But Nobody Is Paying Attention! To win a set of drink coasters showing all fifty state flowers, badly drawn, text HOOPS to 555-0629 and answer this question: 'What time is it in a gymnasium when the clock is broken?' Here they come. You can read the determination on their faces.

Barack Obama walks it up, two fingers in the air, and the whole offense shifts on his command. STOP AND GO! Robert Bobroczkyi hit the brakes, hit the gas, and the lane opened up like a garage door. Rim out for Robert Bobroczkyi, the crowd came up and sat right back down, and you can hear the groan from every corner of the arena.

More second chance points for Los Angeles Nursing-Home, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the movie actor/actress, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. Two defenders collide on the handoff and Barack Obama is gone, so Robert Bobroczkyi earned that one even if the box score disagrees. Third look from distance for Barack Obama tonight and the arc keeps flattening out, tired legs writing checks the jumper cannot cash.

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, Los Angeles Nursing-Home, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

Somebody explain how the community organizer reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. Filthy. Absolutely filthy from Muhammad Ali, and the defender knows exactly what just happened to him. Missed layup for the activist and the whole arena groans as one. Great hands in the day job, apparently they do not travel.

A probe, a plant of the outside foot, and Drake pushes off while his man is still fighting to recover his balance. Rises, releases, and Drake sends the ball through the exact patch of sky where the rim is not.

Straight down the baseline goes the movie actor/actress! Whatever shift he worked this morning, he clearly left plenty in the tank. Stuck out on the perimeter with no outlet, Drake panics, re-dribbles, and hands the possession over on a silver platter.

Ohhh no. Corner three, Los Angeles Nursing-Home in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

Offensive foul on the movie actor/actress. He gets through an entire work week without a single collision and then does THIS on a basketball floor.

Handoff, turn the corner, BUCKET! Barack Obama did all the dirty work on that one. Nobody touched him, nobody trapped him, and Drake still coughed it up. Easiest whistle these officials will blow all night.

Drake and Barack Obama share a single look. Just one. It contains all the disappointment in the world. And here is the answer to our game show Concentration But Nobody Is Paying Attention! Junior Applewhite of Gravy Bend, South Carolina, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'What time is it in a gymnasium when the clock is broken?' The answer was of course always 4:17, a time that has never done anybody any good. Junior therefore wins a set of drink coasters showing all fifty state flowers, badly drawn! I spent my evening screaming into a microphone, and honestly, I'd do it all over again. Alright, good evening! Now it's 'Love Is in the Parking Lot.' Romance guaranteed.

Matchday 7 — vs Toronto Border-Patrol

75-120 (L)

Free throw coming the other way and the coach is STILL talking. Drake finally gets him seated, and this building is ROARING.

Turnover, layup, Toronto Border-Patrol straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

The ball travels faster than five defenders can, and Barack Obama has known that all night long. The other bench sent their best perimeter stopper out on Robert Bobroczkyi, and they are learning in real time that it will not be enough tonight. Robert Bobroczkyi gets to his spot in the lane, lifts the runner over the big man, and leaves it a foot short. No dice.

More second chance points for Toronto Border-Patrol, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

That is a foot speed problem. Robert Bobroczkyi keeps grabbing instead of sliding, and in this league that gets your coach a miserable night. Robert Bobroczkyi reaches, gets caught, whistle. Third personal, and the coach immediately looks down his bench.

The players head in. Judas Iscariot slips on the wet tunnel floor. Did you know? Judas Iscariot once signed an autograph for a referee. During the game. Mid free-throw. And now, our halftime TV game show Bowling for Bologna! To win a set of hubcaps for a car that nobody makes anymore, text HOOPS to 555-0204 and answer this question: 'How many buttons on a scoreboard controller actually do anything?' We're back! The DJ cranks the volume, the players charge onto the court.

Count it and the foul. Brutal. Toronto Border-Patrol with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

Give and go! Judas Iscariot gives it up, cuts, and gets it right back with a clear lane to the cup! A timeout is coming, because no defense recovers from watching Judas Iscariot do that to one of their own.

Judas Iscariot cups a hand to his ear and turns a slow full circle, milking every section. The upper deck answers louder than the lower bowl, so he points up there and nods. Barack Obama joins the spin. Forty seconds of noise before anybody inbounds the ball.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the community organizer, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. The activist just ran that two-man game like he has a decade of film on it. Somebody get this man a contract. Contested, off balance, fading away from the wrong shoulder, that is a shot Robert Bobroczkyi should never take with three teammates standing wide open.

The community organizer just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. The extra pass! Muhammad Ali had the look, gave it up anyway, and Drake buries it. BANG! Drake gathers on the baseline, absorbs contact from two bodies, and slams it home. That rim is still shaking.

Dunk so loud the backboard is still ringing when Drake lands. He stares down the front row like they owe him money. A man in a five-thousand-dollar seat drops his drink. Barack Obama drags Drake away by the jersey before it becomes an incident.

Cold blooded from Toronto Border-Patrol, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

The player reads the screen perfectly, comes off shoulder to shoulder, and buys himself an open look. Veteran movement, rookie resume. Nobody drew up that arc. The player floated one halfway to the rafters, and the rim never even got a say.

Dagger from Toronto Border-Patrol. You could hear the air leave this arena on that one.

Here comes Drake sprinting off the elbow. Barack Obama slides it into his pocket and that chase defender is buried. Pull-up from the elbow by Drake, halfway down, spinning inside the iron, and it pops right back out.

Total control. Barack Obama has this thing on a string. OHHHH he went BACKDOOR! Robert Bobroczkyi never broke stride and he has the ball UNDER THE RIM! That is the shot chart lying to you. Robert Bobroczkyi did everything right on this possession and has zero points to show for it.

Enough room out there to set up a lawn chair, and the community organizer made it himself. Total professional, in a completely unrelated profession. You can hear that rim ringing from up here, Barack Obama has forced three in a row now and the whole offense has stopped moving.

Barack Obama refuses Toronto Border-Patrol's handshake. Drake offers a limp one with just his fingertips. And here is the answer to our game Bowling for Bologna! Faye Ellen Duckworth of Sweat Bee, Connecticut, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many buttons on a scoreboard controller actually do anything?' The answer was of course two, and the rest are there for confidence. Faye Ellen takes home a set of hubcaps for a car that nobody makes anymore! My wife texted me: 'when are you coming home?' I said 'after the game.' That was two hours ago. That's it for tonight. Coming up: 'Nailed It: Cakes Ruined by My Mother-in-Law.'

Matchday 8 — vs Minnesota Ice-Wall

90-134 (L)

Tip goes to the activist, who spends most of the week nowhere near a gym. Explain that one to me.

Turnover, layup, Minnesota Ice-Wall straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

Ejection for the activist. Forty hours a week of keeping it together, and it all came apart in one swing under the rim.

And there it is, a walk-in layup for Minnesota Ice-Wall with not one hand raised in the paint. Somebody has to protect that rim.

Screened, toasted, done. Judas Iscariot is loose and the defense is scrambling to find him. Judas Iscariot had that one all the way, perfect release, perfect arc, and the rim simply refuses to let it drop.

That's a cut. Robert Bobroczkyi stumbles slightly reaching the locker room. Juicy intel: Robert Bobroczkyi turned down an endorsement deal because he'd have to wear a mascot costume. And now, our halftime TV game show Deal or No Deal or Maybe! To win a novelty belt buckle roughly the size of a hubcap, text HOOPS to 555-0396 and answer this question: 'What is the top speed of a shopping cart with one bad wheel?' Play resumes! The coach set a few things straight in the locker room.

Somewhere out there a player is learning that the day job never included defensive slides. Rough little moment. Two on the board for the visitors, and Judas Iscariot knows it before the officials even get their hands up.

Clean feed from Drake, nothing forced, just the offense breathing. Off the pin-down comes the community organizer with nobody inside a zip code. Somebody out there knows how to use a screen, and it is not who you would guess. POCKET PASS! Barack Obama threads it to Muhammad Ali between two bodies and the rim is wide open! Stop on a dime, up and over those outstretched arms, and the center can only stand there and watch Muhammad Ali walk away from it.

Pointing up at the family section, Muhammad Ali taps his chest twice and holds up a fist. A kid in a replica jersey is crying, and so is his mother. A camera crew finds them in nine seconds flat. Sixty seconds of pure decency on national television.

More second chance points for Minnesota Ice-Wall, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

There is nothing accidental about that one. Judas Iscariot hunted the contact, sold it, and bought himself a trip to the stripe. Three dribbles, a deep breath, a nice smooth release from Judas Iscariot, and then a whole lot of nothing.

You can teach a lot of things at this level, but not lateral quickness. Barack Obama is doing a fine traffic cone impression. Muhammad Ali does not love that call. Both hands in the air, a long look at the official, and the whistle still counts.

The movie actor/actress just ran a give and go to perfection on national television! Somebody go tell his boss what he does after hours! The movie actor/actress spots up in the corner and drills it like it is nothing. Somewhere a shooting coach is crying tears of joy.

Backing all the way to half court with three fingers held over each eye, Drake keeps the goggles on for the entire trip. The bench mob copies it in unison. The broadcast cuts to twelve grown men wearing invisible glasses. Peak television, honestly.

Count it and the foul. Brutal. Minnesota Ice-Wall with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

The movie actor/actress pulls out the crossover of his life, and Monday morning he clocks in like nothing ever happened. Ohhh no. Drake just walked. In front of everybody.

Minnesota Ice-Wall again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

Kick out to Barack Obama, one more to Muhammad Ali, splash from the wing and this bench is on its feet. A cruel spin-out for the activist, and whatever that day job is, tonight it came with a brand new way to break your heart.

Judas Iscariot sits on the floor in the hallway. Drake sits down next to him. Nobody speaks. And here is the answer to our game Deal or No Deal or Maybe! Marlene Hufnagel of North Elbow, Wisconsin, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the top speed of a shopping cart with one bad wheel?' The answer was of course whatever speed produces the most noise. Marlene takes home a novelty belt buckle roughly the size of a hubcap! My evening? I spent it holding back tears. Of joy? Of exhaustion? Both. That's a wrap! Coming up: 'American Idol: Accountant Edition.' Singing, dancing, and spreadsheets.

Matchday 9 — vs Houston Blast-Off

89-133 (L)

Ohhh no. Corner three, Houston Blast-Off in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

Follow the ball there: four sets of hands, Drake makes the last read, and the defense never gets set. That is training camp offense. The defender fronted him, so Muhammad Ali sealed, waited for the entry and went to work. Patient, mean, effective.

Salute: sharp, military, held. Muhammad Ali delivers it toward the loudest corner of the building and does not drop his hand until the noise starts to hurt. Drake snaps to attention beside him and the bench follows. Twelve saluting maniacs and a coach with his head in his hands.

Drake is on the floor pointing at his own forearm, the coach is halfway to midcourt, and the officials have heard plenty.

Bucket for Houston Blast-Off. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

Eight seconds off the shot clock and Barack Obama has not wasted one of them, the ball reaching Muhammad Ali precisely where the play wanted it. The activist just ran that two-man game like he has a decade of film on it. Somebody get this man a contract. In, around, and gone. The iron gives Drake nothing.

Halftime! Drake looks in the mirror and shakes his head. Rumor has it Drake talks to his basketball in the locker room. Nobody dares say it's weird. And now, our halftime TV game show To Tell the Truth-ish! To win a wall clock shaped like a rooster that crows at random, text HOOPS to 555-0330 and answer this question: 'What is the scientific name for the smell of a middle school gymnasium?' Back on the hardwood. The tension has gone up a notch.

Cold blooded from Houston Blast-Off, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

The community organizer runs a dribble handoff with the timing of a fifteen-year vet. Not bad for somebody who does this on weekends. No touch. Drake left the soft hands in the locker room tonight. Muscled away at the second jump by Barack Obama, and this offense resets with a fresh shot clock. Miss, tip, bucket. Barack Obama makes his living in the wreckage.

Barack Obama pretends to check a watch that is not on his wrist, taps it, then shows it to the arena. Time is up. Judas Iscariot mimes an enormous yawn. The visiting coach is shouting at officials who have no jurisdiction over sarcasm.

Full stop, full sprint, and the community organizer is in the paint! Nobody back at the workplace is going to believe this one. Clang. Barack Obama wants that one back.

And there it is, a walk-in layup for Houston Blast-Off with not one hand raised in the paint. Somebody has to protect that rim.

A full spin move through traffic from the community organizer! Whatever they teach in that trade, footwork is apparently part of it. Soft off the fingertips, the ball takes a full lap of the rim on Barack Obama, and spits straight back out. That is theft.

You can teach the jumper, you cannot teach the willingness, and Barack Obama gives up a decent shot every single time a better one exists. That is a dime from Muhammad Ali that deserved so much better, and Judas Iscariot knows it, head down, jogging back before the ball even lands.

Dagger from Houston Blast-Off. You could hear the air leave this arena on that one.

Hand check on Robert Bobroczkyi. That is a foul in this league every single time. Most defenders get to use their hands. Robert Bobroczkyi has five, so he is out there guarding with his eyebrows.

The community organizer just froze a grown professional with a hesitation dribble. This man punches a clock and he is out here doing THAT. Prayer from Barack Obama. Not answered.

Everybody in the arena knew the stepback was coming from Drake, and not one single soul could do anything about it. Fifth possession this half where Drake has been left to bail everybody out with the clock at zero. He cannot keep doing this alone.

Barack Obama replays the score in his head on a loop. Drake tries to think about something else. And here is the answer to our game To Tell the Truth-ish! Merle Hackenbush of Muddy Boot, Illinois, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the scientific name for the smell of a middle school gymnasium?' The answer was of course nostalgia, with strong notes of floor wax. Merle takes home a wall clock shaped like a rooster that crows at random! My evening? A microphone, cold coffee, and the greatest show on earth. What more could you ask for. That's a wrap! And now, 'The Price Is Right: Why Nobody Answers the Phone Anymore.'

Matchday 10 — vs Denver Horse-Track

75-120 (L)

Count it and the foul. Brutal. Denver Horse-Track with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

Watch the spacing there, Judas Iscariot hits Robert Bobroczkyi right in the shooting pocket and the possession stays alive. OHHHHH HE SNATCHED HIS ANKLES! Robert Bobroczkyi left him on the hardwood and this building is SHAKING! Wide open at the top of the key and Robert Bobroczkyi cannot make it count, the defense secures the board and takes off in transition.

That is vision. Judas Iscariot sees the pocket open for a tenth of a second and puts the ball in it. Textbook footwork, textbook release from Robert Bobroczkyi, cruel result as it spins out and both teams go up for a contested board.

OHHHH the separation! Drake just manufactured three feet of daylight out of absolutely nothing. Drake rises up from fifteen feet and OHHHH, that rattled in and OUT!

NO! Muhammad Ali fouls a shooter behind the arc. Three free throws. That is malpractice. The activist sits down with four. You want to be furious, but honestly, he came here straight off a full shift.

Halftime whistle. Drake flops into the first available chair. Anecdote of the day: Drake forgot his shorts on the last road trip. Played in borrowed shorts two sizes too big. And now, our halftime TV game show Jeopardy Adjacent! To win a bucket of concrete turtles from a roadside stand that closed in 2004, text HOOPS to 555-0208 and answer this question: 'Which state has the most rectangular gymnasiums per capita?' The hardwood awaits. Here we go for the second half.

Cold blooded from Denver Horse-Track, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

Drake sets the pick and DIVES to the cup. Barack Obama lays it right on his hands in traffic! The movie actor/actress baits the contact, gets the whistle, and struts to the line like a ten-year pro. His boss is watching this and quietly rethinking next week's schedule. Boring is beautiful, and Drake is automatic from the stripe. That is how you close a game out.

Drake plants himself in front of the Denver Horse-Track bench, hands on hips, and simply stands there until somebody says something. Somebody says something. Officials arrive at a jog. A teammate hauls him backward by the waist while the arena begs for more.

Ball moves. Barack Obama to Muhammad Ali, on time and on target. Watch the sell from Muhammad Ali here, he leans in, he gets the defender leaning with him, and then he backs away into all that space. Not close, not warm, not anywhere for Muhammad Ali, straight into the hands of a defender who never had to leave his feet.

Bucket for Denver Horse-Track. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

Ball up the floor, change of speed right at the logo, and Barack Obama already has the defense a full step behind. A cut with that timing from the player? He is on the clock somewhere else all week and he still found time to learn the two-man game. Reverse layup by Judas Iscariot, using the rim as a shield the whole way through. A circus act wrapped around textbook footwork.

Ohhh no. Corner three, Denver Horse-Track in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

Somebody explain how the community organizer reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. Full stop, full sprint, and the activist is in the paint! Nobody back at the workplace is going to believe this one. Buzzer on the shot clock, Muhammad Ali heaves it off one leg, and the ball comes up short of everything.

Second pass beats the rotation, Drake to Judas Iscariot, and the closeout gets there about half a second too late. BRICK! Judas Iscariot throws up a prayer and the iron sends it straight back out to half court!

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, Denver Horse-Track, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

The crossover comes, Drake bites hard, and the lane opens up like the front door was left unlocked. The activist gets whistled for the swipe. Forty honest hours a week and here he is, picking pockets in front of twenty thousand witnesses.

Barack Obama bites his lip, fists clenched. Drake shakes his head slowly, in disbelief. And here is the answer to our game show Jeopardy Adjacent! Wanda Jean Stubblefield of Possum Grape, Alabama, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'Which state has the most rectangular gymnasiums per capita?' The answer was of course Indiana, and it is not particularly close. Wanda Jean therefore wins a bucket of concrete turtles from a roadside stand that closed in 2004! Did you know that Drake practices community organizer on Tuesdays? Builds character, that does. We're done here. Up next: 'Top Chef: Microwave Edition.' Bon appetit.

Matchday 11 — vs New York Over-Timers

75-120 (L)

Drake attacks the baseline and the ENTIRE defense has to rotate behind him! Drake probes the lane, cups the ball with two hands, then bounces it again. That is the violation they fix in third grade.

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, New York Over-Timers, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

No hero ball here: Judas Iscariot takes what the defense gives and moves it along. Screen, pop, SPLASH! Muhammad Ali kicks it out and that thing never touched iron. Two on the shot clock and the ball ends up with the player, which is how you get a twenty-eight footer off the wrong foot.

And there it is, a walk-in layup for New York Over-Timers with not one hand raised in the paint. Somebody has to protect that rim.

Court vision like that on the community organizer is absurd. Whatever the day job pays him, the assist numbers say he is badly underpriced. AIRBALL! Drake missed the rim, the backboard and everything in between!

Break. Robert Bobroczkyi collapses on the locker room floor, arms spread wide. Bus driver's confession: Robert Bobroczkyi raps gibberish during road trips. Loudly. And now, our halftime TV game show Press Your Luck, Buddy! To win a metal detector that only ever finds bottle caps, text HOOPS to 555-0451 and answer this question: 'Who was the first person in recorded history to yell defense at a wedding?' Let's go. The arena rumbles, the players answer.

Ohhh no. Corner three, New York Over-Timers in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

Here is the part that never makes the highlight package: Barack Obama controlling tempo, burning clock, hunting the mismatch the second one shows up. Everybody in the arena knew the stepback was coming from Judas Iscariot, and not one single soul could do anything about it. Third one of these from Judas Iscariot this quarter, third time the arc is wrong. The lane is not open real estate anymore.

Bucket for New York Over-Timers. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

The community organizer pops to the arc and buries it, and nobody in this building believes that man clocks in somewhere in the morning. Off the dribble, a full step behind the logo, straight down. Tomorrow the movie actor/actress goes back to work, tonight he owns this arena.

Across half court, a quick survey, a point to the weak side, and Barack Obama drops it off to Muhammad Ali on time and on target. Muhammad Ali crosses, crosses back, the defender slides half a step the wrong way and the whole arena lets out the same OHHHH. Shot clock at one, and Muhammad Ali just has to throw something at the rim. Nothing doing.

The defender crowded the middle, and Judas Iscariot punished him along the baseline like it was drawn up in the huddle. AROUND the cylinder and OUT! Judas Iscariot cannot believe it, and neither can this building.

The whistle blows, Muhammad Ali throws his hands up in protest, and the replay is going to make that argument very short.

New York Over-Timers again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

The community organizer is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. Dribble alive, patient, patient, and then Muhammad Ali slips it to Barack Obama right in the pocket. Surgical. The community organizer hammers a brick off the backboard so hard the rim is still shaking. Nothing in that resume prepared anybody for this.

The coach just drew up the biggest play of the night for the player, a sentence I did not expect to say out loud this evening. Coach spent a timeout on a play for the community organizer and it worked to the inch. That is trust you do not fake.

Barack Obama plants himself in front of the New York Over-Timers bench, hands on hips, and simply stands there until somebody says something. Somebody says something. Officials arrive at a jog. A teammate hauls him backward by the waist while the arena begs for more.

Judas Iscariot isolates in a corner, back against the wall. Robert Bobroczkyi tries to talk. He raises a hand to say no. And here is the answer to our game Press Your Luck, Buddy! Vergie Cornsilk of Hominy Bend, Arkansas, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'Who was the first person in recorded history to yell defense at a wedding?' The answer was of course an uncle, and he has not been invited back since. Vergie takes home a metal detector that only ever finds bottle caps! I discovered tonight that my mic was off for three minutes. Three minutes of pure genius, lost forever. Good night everyone! And now, the show nobody asked for: 'Pigeon Hunters.'

Matchday 12 — vs Cleveland Twin-Towers

76-120 (L)

Laser from Drake, corner to corner, and that closeout gets there about a second and a half too late. Down screen, and Muhammad Ali curls hard into the middle of the floor with a full step of daylight. Easy read. Screen, hesitation, delivery, Muhammad Ali drops it off perfectly for Judas Iscariot diving to the rim. Put him on skates, then put him on a POSTER. Judas Iscariot owns the highlight reel tonight.

Judas Iscariot throws both arms up and holds them there, letting the arena pull the sound out of him. Twenty thousand people on their feet at once. Drake grabs his shoulders from behind and shakes him like a snow globe. The floor is genuinely vibrating.

Cleveland Twin-Towers again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

Court vision like that on the community organizer is absurd. Whatever the day job pays him, the assist numbers say he is badly underpriced. Not a hand on him. Muhammad Ali flat missed the bunny.

Turnover, layup, Cleveland Twin-Towers straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

Garbage time, and the community organizer is sitting there with ice on both knees like a twelve year veteran. Not bad for somebody with a day job.

Halftime whistle. Barack Obama high-fives his teammates on the way out. I've been told Barack Obama once ordered a pizza during a timeout. The coach was not amused. And now, our halftime TV game show Password Please Try Again! To win an exercise machine holding the same folded laundry since 2009, text HOOPS to 555-0891 and answer this question: 'What do you call the fifth quarter if nobody agrees it happened?' Alright, it's time. The second half waits for no one.

The community organizer is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. Drake comes flying off that screen and he is WIDE open! Catching it right at the cup with nobody within eight feet, Drake goes up too strong and the ball rides high off the backboard.

Count it and the foul. Brutal. Cleveland Twin-Towers with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

OHHHH the pocket pass! Barack Obama splits the coverage and the roll man is loose under the basket! Robert Bobroczkyi blows the wide open layup!

Barack Obama eats the contact so Judas Iscariot can run free along the baseline, and the catch-and-shoot look is right there. There is no finesse in that, and there does not need to be. Judas Iscariot simply decided the paint belonged to him.

Cold blooded from Cleveland Twin-Towers, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

Punish the help, that is the rule, and Judas Iscariot just did it by hitting Muhammad Ali on the back side with acres of room. Not an inch to spare on the endline, but Muhammad Ali keeps both feet in bounds and the help gets there a beat too late. Stuck holding it as the clock bleeds out, Muhammad Ali fades away from twenty-six feet, and it is not close.

Dagger from Cleveland Twin-Towers. You could hear the air leave this arena on that one.

Swing, swing, and Drake finds Muhammad Ali on the wing before the help can even turn its head. Off the pin-down comes the activist with nobody inside a zip code. Somebody out there knows how to use a screen, and it is not who you would guess. Getting to his spot and elevating, Muhammad Ali puts it on the back iron, up over the front, and out. Half a rotation from two points.

Here is the part that never makes the highlight package: Barack Obama controlling tempo, burning clock, hunting the mismatch the second one shows up. From WAY downtown off the pop! Muhammad Ali with the extra pass and CASH. The community organizer misses absolutely everything, and honestly, the nerve to even attempt that shot deserves something. Not points. But something.

Whistles. Monitor. And Robert Bobroczkyi standing frozen at midcourt. No good! The ball is STILL sitting in the hand of Robert Bobroczkyi when that light comes on. Waved off.

Drake chews his nails on the bench. Judas Iscariot stares at his shoes like they're the source of the problem. And here is the answer to our game show Password Please Try Again! Curtis Pruitt of Bent Spoon, Utah, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'What do you call the fifth quarter if nobody agrees it happened?' The answer was of course the honor quarter, and the score from it is kept exclusively by uncles. Curtis therefore wins an exercise machine holding the same folded laundry since 2009! Fun fact: my driver has been waiting in the parking lot for an hour. He's sent me 14 messages. Thanks everyone. Up next: 'Survivor: Open-Plan Office.' Whoever makes it through the 5 PM meeting wins.

Matchday 13 — vs Boston Ring-Chasers

75-119 (L)

Tip is UP and Muhammad Ali gets there first! We are underway and it is our ball.

Day job, then this: the player reads a rolling big like a coach with twenty years on the bench. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Two points in every gym in America except this one, and Drake is walking back with both hands on his head.

The ball travels faster than five defenders can, and Barack Obama has known that all night long. That crossover was not about getting a shot up. Robert Bobroczkyi pulled it out to tell everybody in the gym whose possession this is. That is the shot Robert Bobroczkyi wants every trip down the floor, it drops nine nights out of ten, and tonight is the tenth.

Turnover, layup, Boston Ring-Chasers straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

Reverse it, make them slide all over again, that is how Barack Obama breaks a shell down. Judas Iscariot turns the corner off the screen from Robert Bobroczkyi, the help never rotates, and the lane is WIDE open! Awful shot by Robert Bobroczkyi with eleven still on the shot clock, off the front rim and out to the wing.

The players disappear. Judas Iscariot has a makeshift neck brace out of a towel. Did you know? Judas Iscariot has a personal mini-fridge in the locker room. Nobody knows what's inside. And now, our halftime TV game show Lingo but Nobody Speaks! To win a hot tub cover with no hot tub anywhere near it, text HOOPS to 555-0241 and answer this question: 'How many times can you refold a road map before it turns against you?' Back to hostilities. Faces have changed in the locker room.

The movie actor/actress just froze a grown professional with a hesitation dribble. This man punches a clock and he is out here doing THAT. OHHHHH POSTERIZED! Drake just ENDED that defender at the rim!

Drake crosses his arms into an X, plants his feet at the top of the key and dares somebody to say something. Nobody does. Robert Bobroczkyi mirrors the pose beside him. Two statues, twenty thousand people screaming, and every camera in the gym pointed at them.

Watch the spacing there, Drake hits Barack Obama right in the shooting pocket and the possession stays alive. Muhammad Ali sets it and slides out instead of rolling, Barack Obama finds him late, and the defense pays for cheating under the screen. Twenty-four seconds of standing around, and Muhammad Ali has to eat the last two of them. Possession wasted long before the shot went up.

Ohhh no. Corner three, Boston Ring-Chasers in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the movie actor/actress, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. Screened, toasted, done. Robert Bobroczkyi is loose and the defense is scrambling to find him. Down, up, and gone for Robert Bobroczkyi. The rim is just toying with him now.

More second chance points for Boston Ring-Chasers, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

The movie actor/actress just ran a give and go to perfection on national television! Somebody go tell his boss what he does after hours! Drake beat the clock by a tenth of a second and missed by about four feet. Technically legal, competitively pointless.

Cold blooded from Boston Ring-Chasers, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

Watch the sell from Drake here, he leans in, he gets the defender leaning with him, and then he backs away into all that space. Drake fires that thing at the backboard like it owes him money. No chance from the moment it left his hand.

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, Boston Ring-Chasers, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

Push the pace! Barack Obama grabs it and hits Judas Iscariot in stride before the defense can even match up. Hard drive, hard stop, and Judas Iscariot retreats into an ocean of open hardwood. OHHHH the POWER! Judas Iscariot took the hit and finished it anyway!

Right hand to the mouthguard, out, pointed at the rafters, back in. Judas Iscariot does not break stride once. Two rows of fans are hugging total strangers. Complete loss of composure in the entire lower bowl, and the game is nowhere near over.

Muhammad Ali lets out a nervous laugh that sends chills down your spine. Judas Iscariot decides not to comment. And here is the answer to our game Lingo but Nobody Speaks! Clovis Whittenberg of Number Nine Curve, New York, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many times can you refold a road map before it turns against you?' The answer was of course three, after which you simply live with it open. Clovis takes home a hot tub cover with no hot tub anywhere near it! My wife texted me: 'when are you coming home?' I said 'after the game.' That was two hours ago. Thanks everyone! And now: 'Keeping Up with the Kardashians: Season 312.' They will never stop.

Matchday 14 — vs San Antonio Skyscrapers

75-119 (L)

OHHHH the bench is GONE! Towels over heads, bodies off the chairs, all because of Drake! The entry pass goes in, Drake beats the big man to it, and this building is already standing up.

Bucket for San Antonio Skyscrapers. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

Watch the high hand from Muhammad Ali, right there on the shoulder, and suddenly there is nowhere to spin and nothing to shoot. Rebound to fast break in one motion, courtesy of the activist. That is not a hobby, that is a skill set. Get that one framed. Barack Obama took off from the block and the defender is still lying on the floor.

Barack Obama deadpans directly into the broadcast camera: nod, wink, gone. Total elapsed time, one and a half seconds. The commentators lose it completely. Robert Bobroczkyi arrives too late and mugs at an empty lens for nobody at all.

SKIP PASS! Barack Obama fires it cross court to Drake and the defense is dead in the water! Read, screen, delivery, right on the money. A movie actor/actress making the right pass every single time, and the league is taking notes. Catching it right at the cup with nobody within eight feet, Robert Bobroczkyi goes up too strong and the ball rides high off the backboard.

More second chance points for San Antonio Skyscrapers, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

Break! Muhammad Ali rips his shoes off the second he reaches the locker room. Locker room intel: Muhammad Ali has a tattoo of a basketball hoop on his butt. That's commitment. And now, our halftime TV game show Bowling for Bologna! To win a set of hubcaps for a car that nobody makes anymore, text HOOPS to 555-0204 and answer this question: 'How many buttons on a scoreboard controller actually do anything?' The players are back on the court. Here we go again!

Day job, then this: the player reads a rolling big like a coach with twenty years on the bench. That is the shot chart lying to you. Robert Bobroczkyi did everything right on this possession and has zero points to show for it.

One little shoulder dip from Drake and the guy guarding him turned into a traffic cone in real time. DOUBLE DRIBBLE! Drake picked it up, put it back down, and the whistle went off like a smoke alarm.

The movie actor/actress just created his own space with a stepback. Somewhere a scout is spitting coffee all over his notepad. OHHHH, the cylinder rejects the movie actor/actress! Somewhere a whole workplace just yelled at a television.

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, San Antonio Skyscrapers, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

SPIN and GO! Drake pirouettes right through the traffic and comes out the other side clean! The movie actor/actress gets it handed over on a silver platter at point blank range and drops it. Somewhere in this building a coach is questioning every decision that led here.

And there it is, a walk-in layup for San Antonio Skyscrapers with not one hand raised in the paint. Somebody has to protect that rim.

That is five guys on a string and Judas Iscariot is the knot holding it together, because the corner gets covered behind him too.

Cold blooded from San Antonio Skyscrapers, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the community organizer, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. Judas Iscariot holds it, waits, waits some more, then lets it go at the last possible instant to Muhammad Ali flying by. That is a half-second window and he threads it. Muhammad Ali rises up from fifteen feet and OHHHH, that rattled in and OUT!

The assistant points at the far corner, the head coach points at Drake, and the other three get told exactly where to stand. Drawn up in the huddle, executed by the movie actor/actress, who clocks in somewhere else on Monday morning. Perfect.

Barack Obama watches the crowd file out in silence. Drake prefers not to look. And here is the answer to our game Bowling for Bologna! Faye Ellen Duckworth of Sweat Bee, Connecticut, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many buttons on a scoreboard controller actually do anything?' The answer was of course two, and the rest are there for confidence. Faye Ellen takes home a set of hubcaps for a car that nobody makes anymore! Yours truly survived this game without losing his voice. It was touch and go. Until next time! Up next: 'Kitchen Nightmares: Corporate Cafeteria.' This is gonna be good.

Matchday 15 — vs Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest

86-131 (L)

Left, right, gone. Drake put that defender on skates and never even looked back. Drake had that one all the way, perfect release, perfect arc, and the rim simply refuses to let it drop.

OHHHH, what a read by Drake! He never even glanced at the rim and it is CASH on the other end. Look at Robert Bobroczkyi mouthing an apology toward his own bench before the call is even announced. He knew instantly.

Ohhh no. Corner three, Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

Bench energy is real currency over a long season, and Drake just handed his teammates a full bank account. Barack Obama reads the eyes the whole way, gets a mitt on it, and that is OUR basketball now.

Punish the help, that is the rule, and Barack Obama just did it by hitting Drake on the back side with acres of room. Enough room out there to set up a lawn chair, and the movie actor/actress made it himself. Total professional, in a completely unrelated profession. The movie actor/actress had that thing halfway down and the rim spat it back out. Nobody ever warns you that the iron has a personality.

Break. Robert Bobroczkyi asks the medical staff for coffee. Request denied. Little scoop: Robert Bobroczkyi tried to bribe the DJ to play his song. The DJ agreed. Nobody liked it. And now, our halftime TV game show Bowling for Bologna! To win a set of hubcaps for a car that nobody makes anymore, text HOOPS to 555-0204 and answer this question: 'How many buttons on a scoreboard controller actually do anything?' Tipoff! The ball bounces, the arena vibrates, we're back.

Count it and the foul. Brutal. Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

Two defenders, one gap, and Judas Iscariot finds it. Onions on that pass. The movie actor/actress just double dribbled in front of a sold-out building. Nobody back at work is ever letting that one go.

Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

He is COOKING on defense right now. Barack Obama just made them burn a timeout to get across half court. The activist out here on the deck fighting for loose balls. Nobody pays him for that, and he could not care less. Wide open runway! Robert Bobroczkyi gets to the rim before the defense even crosses halfcourt!

Three fingers up, walking backward the length of the floor, Robert Bobroczkyi never once looks at the basket he just drained. The bench mob is off the seats, towels overhead, security waving them back down. Nobody sits. Nobody in here is going to sit again tonight.

More second chance points for Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

Ooof. Muhammad Ali got put on SKATES right there. Body to body all the way to the rim and the arm goes up. That is on Robert Bobroczkyi, and this crew is not letting anything go tonight.

Over the top of everybody. Barack Obama to Muhammad Ali in the corner, wide open, catch and rise. Dribble handoff from Muhammad Ali, and the defender gets wiped out on the exchange! Pass, cut, catch, wide open. Four things in about a second and a half from Drake. A jump hook over a grown professional defender, from the movie actor/actress? That is the most unexpected fundamentals clinic of the night.

The noise climbs past whatever the building was engineered for, and Drake uses it to kneel down and retie a shoe that was already tied. Double knot, no hurry, eyes on the laces. Barack Obama stands over him like a bodyguard while somewhere down there a coach calls a play into a hurricane and loses.

That is a costly ten seconds for Judas Iscariot. He lost the call, he lost his temper, and the other team gets a point without leaving the huddle.

Cold blooded from Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

Closeout from Robert Bobroczkyi like a man chasing a bus. Late, out of control, and right into the shooter's landing space. There is no choice to make here. Four fouls with this much clock left means Robert Bobroczkyi sits and the lead has to survive without him.

Muhammad Ali's eyes are glassy. Judas Iscariot mumbles 'we'll get them next time' without believing it. And here is the answer to our game Bowling for Bologna! Faye Ellen Duckworth of Sweat Bee, Connecticut, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many buttons on a scoreboard controller actually do anything?' The answer was of course two, and the rest are there for confidence. Faye Ellen takes home a set of hubcaps for a car that nobody makes anymore! Tonight my voice traveled three octaves. Baritone to soprano. Basketball does that to you. Good night everyone! Up next: 'Worst Cooks in America: Boiling an Egg Without Breaking It.' Challenge accepted.