My dream starting five — basketball_team 🇬🇧

Matchday 1 — vs Detroit Engine-Roar

79-124 (L)

Somebody explain how the investor reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. SPIN and GO! Genghis Khan pirouettes right through the traffic and comes out the other side clean! Genghis Khan blows the wide open layup!

The investor is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. Full stop, full sprint, and the messiah is in the paint! Nobody back at the workplace is going to believe this one. The messiah 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.

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

The investor just froze a grown professional with a hesitation dribble. This man punches a clock and he is out here doing THAT. So close. Donald Trump can only stare at the iron.

The military leader takes the baseline and bends an entire defense out of shape. Absolutely absurd stuff in this building tonight. Blocked into the floor. Genghis Khan will be seeing that one in his sleep.

Halftime. Jesus Christ is holding his ribs walking toward the tunnel. Anecdote: Jesus Christ threw up before his first pro game. No more pre-game burgers ever since. 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?' Resetting the counters for this second half. Well, not really.

That is the pass nobody puts on a highlight reel, and Genghis Khan makes it every single trip down the floor. Straight down the baseline goes the scientist! Whatever shift he worked this morning, he clearly left plenty in the tank. Missed layup for the scientist 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.

Genghis Khan did that, and now the loudest twelve people in this arena are all wearing the same uniform he is. REJECTED! Donald Trump gets ALL of that jumper and the building erupts!

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

Getting to his spot and elevating, Gordon Ramsay puts it on the back iron, up over the front, and out. Half a rotation from two points. Hustle play of the night so far. Gordon Ramsay gave up his ribs for one extra possession and the bench is on its feet. Court vision like that on the chef is absurd. Whatever the day job pays him, the assist numbers say he is badly underpriced. The military leader just created that shot from scratch and drained it. Not bad for somebody clocking in at a real job tomorrow morning.

The chef fouled a shooter behind the arc. Three free throws, and a timeout that is going to be extremely unpleasant. You can watch the math happen on that sideline: Gordon Ramsay has four, there are big minutes left, and somebody has to hold the fort.

Ohhh no. Corner three, Detroit Engine-Roar in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

You will never find it in a box score, but Donald Trump just flipped that entire trip down the floor with one hand. The investor just threw an outlet that traveled farther than most people commute. Absurd. OHHHH the POWER! Genghis Khan took the hit and finished it anyway!

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.

Textbook two-man game: Donald Trump keeps the dribble alive, forces the big man to commit, and Hulk rolls into an open runway. Clang. Hulk wants that one back.

Jesus Christ walks toward the tunnel without a word. Donald Trump stares at the scoreboard as if it might change. 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! Your commentator lost his press badge during the game. I had to climb over a barrier. We're done for tonight. And now: 'Ancient Aliens: The True History of the Coffee Break.'

Matchday 2 — vs Miami Heart-Attack

82-126 (L)

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

Somewhere there is a shift with the scientist written on it for tomorrow morning. Tonight he is out here erasing shots. That outlet from Hulk is a weapon, it turns a defensive stop into two points in about three seconds. The messiah just dunked on two grown men and drew the foul. Whatever that job pays, it is not enough.

Bucket for Miami Heart-Attack. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

Here comes the slip from Gordon Ramsay, and Donald Trump reads it a half second before anybody else in the building. Not a hand on him. Gordon Ramsay flat missed the bunny.

GONE down the baseline! Gordon Ramsay beat him on the first step and the paint is collapsing. Deep. Deeper. GONE. Gordon Ramsay drops it in from a spot the scouting report never even listed.

Off comes the headband, launched into the crowd like a rock star, and the fight for it delays the inbound. Gordon Ramsay watches two adults wrestle in row four. Half the arena is filming that instead of the game. Everybody in here has lost the plot.

Break. Gordon Ramsay's socks are soaking wet — quick change on the spot. Little scoop: Gordon Ramsay logs every game in a notebook. With stars and smiley faces. At that age. And now, our halftime TV game show Go Fish for Answers! To win a porch swing missing every single chain, text HOOPS to 555-0468 and answer this question: 'What is the average lifespan of a whistle used in a middle school gym?' Both teams return with fresh instructions from the coach.

The big rolls, the defense collapses, and Donald Trump punishes it with a read most guys never even see. OHHHH, that one died in the air! Genghis Khan put nothing into it and the front rim eats the floater.

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

The ball travels faster than five defenders can, and Gordon Ramsay has known that all night long. Kick out to Jesus Christ, one more to Donald Trump, splash from the wing and this bench is on its feet. You can hear that rim ringing from up here, Donald Trump has forced three in a row now and the whole offense has stopped moving.

Careless stuff from Gordon Ramsay. That is a free trip to the line for a steal that was never happening. Gordon Ramsay slides in late on the drive, the official punches the fourth, and the coach is already waving for a sub.

Push the pace! Donald Trump grabs it and hits Jesus Christ in stride before the defense can even match up. Gordon Ramsay sets it and slides out instead of rolling, Jesus Christ finds him late, and the defense pays for cheating under the screen. AIRBALL! Gordon Ramsay missed the rim, the backboard and everything in between!

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

The investor just made the extra pass with a clean look of his own! You do not run into that kind of selflessness at the office! The chef 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.

The bench has completely lost its mind over the messiah! There are lifers in this league who never get a reaction like that.

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

Gordon Ramsay attacks the baseline and the ENTIRE defense has to rotate behind him! Off the back iron for Gordon Ramsay, that one had all the distance and none of the accuracy, and the board goes the other way.

Gordon Ramsay has bags under his eyes that weren't there before the game. Jesus Christ has aged ten years in forty minutes. And here is the answer to our game show Go Fish for Answers! Peggy Ann Winterbottom of Two Chairs, Nebraska, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'What is the average lifespan of a whistle used in a middle school gym?' The answer was of course six years, or two seasons of an especially loud coach. Peggy Ann therefore wins a porch swing missing every single chain! My evening? A microphone, cold coffee, and the greatest show on earth. What more could you ask for. See you soon. And now: '911: My Cat Climbed on Top of the Wardrobe.'

Matchday 3 — vs Orlando Magic-Beans

81-123 (L)

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

They are burning a timeout on the military leader! Somewhere in that huddle a whiteboard is getting erased in a real hurry.

Ohhh no. Corner three, Orlando Magic-Beans in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

Genghis Khan comes flying off that screen and he is WIDE open! From eight feet Genghis Khan puts way too much on it, and the ball clears the rim entirely.

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

Well-deserved break. Genghis Khan looks like someone who just ran a marathon. Fun fact: Genghis Khan got rejected at a casting for a deodorant commercial. The irony. And now, our halftime TV game show The Amazing Race to the Buffet! To win a cooler still full of ice from last summer, text HOOPS to 555-0107 and answer this question: 'How many degrees is room temperature in a room that nobody likes?' The show goes on. Players take position. Silence. Whistle.

OHHHHH HE SNATCHED HIS ANKLES! Donald Trump left him on the hardwood and this building is SHAKING! Somewhere there is a coaching video being edited right now, and the investor is the star of it. Three steps and a prayer.

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, Orlando Magic-Beans, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

The chef just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. One hard step and Hulk owns that whole side of the floor, which means the low man has to make a decision he does not want. Hulk lets it FLY from way downtown and... front rim. Not this time.

STOP AND GO! Genghis Khan hit the brakes, hit the gas, and the lane opened up like a garage door. Genghis Khan rises up from fifteen feet and OHHHH, that rattled in and OUT!

The investor just got tossed for a flagrant two, and somewhere a shift supervisor is watching this on a break room TV in absolute horror.

Long miss from the military leader 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. Nobody put a body on Hulk and he made them pay, tipping it to himself and coming down with two hands in the trees. Court vision like that on the scientist is absurd. Whatever the day job pays him, the assist numbers say he is badly underpriced. The investor just dropped a teardrop over a seven footer. Soft hands must run in that trade!

Donald Trump steps over the defender who ended up on the floor and keeps walking, never looks down. Cold as a meat locker. The building erupts twice, once for the bucket and once for the disrespect. The replay gets its own dedicated camera angle.

Filthy defense from Hulk. He never touched a thing and he still won the possession. Gordon Ramsay grabs it, turns, and slings a one-hander three quarters of the floor. Filthy. Nasty finish. Jesus Christ hangs, adjusts in midair, and drops it through.

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

Full stop, full sprint, and the military leader is in the paint! Nobody back at the workplace is going to believe this one. OFF THE IRON and halfway to the bench! Genghis Khan missed that one with real conviction.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Donald Trump whips that pass one-handed on the move and the roll man gathers it through contact. Filthy. It went halfway down! The ball sat in the cylinder, thought about it, and rolled off the far side on Gordon Ramsay. Cruel.

Donald Trump mutters 'damn' under his breath. Gordon Ramsay says 'yeah' in the same tone. And here is the answer to our game The Amazing Race to the Buffet! Virgil Stackhouse of Dead Battery Springs, Nevada, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many degrees is room temperature in a room that nobody likes?' The answer was of course seventy-two, and somehow still wrong. Virgil takes home a cooler still full of ice from last summer! I got a text from Donald Trump after the game. Just kidding. Nobody texts me. We're done! And now: 'The Voice: Office Karaoke After Two Beers Edition.'

Matchday 4 — vs Philadelphia Injury-Report

87-118 (L)

Won it clean! Jesus Christ got up and over him with room to spare.

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

No hero ball here: Genghis Khan takes what the defense gives and moves it along. Watch Genghis Khan plant his feet, absorb the hit, and spring Donald Trump out of that corner in a blink. There is no finesse in that, and there does not need to be. Donald Trump simply decided the paint belonged to him.

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

Hesitate, GO. Donald Trump is by that hip before the man even blinks. Donald Trump beat the clock by a tenth of a second and missed by about four feet. Technically legal, competitively pointless.

The players leave the court. Genghis Khan clings to the tunnel railing. Did you know Genghis Khan knits to unwind? Made a scarf in Philadelphia Injury-Report's colors. By accident, obviously. 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?' Both teams emerge from the tunnel. The second half can begin.

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

No good. Gordon Ramsay rushed that one. The shot is short, and Donald Trump is the only man moving. He rips it out of the crowd and the possession lives. OHHHH he went and GOT that! Donald Trump with the putback jam over two bodies.

Nobody on the bench is sitting. Not the coaches, not the trainers, not the guy in the suit who never plays. Donald Trump points at all of them at once with both hands. Towels come down like weather and the officials wait it out with the patience of the doomed.

Genghis Khan feels the contact, spins off that shoulder, and the defender is left hugging a whole lot of nothing. Straight back to the office for the military leader, and the group chat has already seen it twice.

Baseline wide open. Gordon Ramsay said thank you. Missed layup for the chef and the whole arena groans as one. Great hands in the day job, apparently they do not travel.

Set called, Genghis Khan waved out to the corner, and Donald Trump watches the spacing open up like a front door. This is the work that never shows up on a stat sheet, Genghis Khan gets the credit and the guy setting the screen gets the bruise. Nobody drew up that arc. The military leader floated one halfway to the rafters, and the rim never even got a say.

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

The investor is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. Screened, toasted, done. Jesus Christ is loose and the defense is scrambling to find him. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! That was IN for Jesus Christ!

Moving screen on the scientist. The rule book is weeping and the coach is already up off the bench.

Bucket for Philadelphia Injury-Report. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

Twenty-four seconds, zero shots. Hulk holds it, the buzzer sounds, and we give it back without ever testing the rim.

Donald Trump's eyes are glassy. Hulk 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! Fun fact: my driver has been waiting in the parking lot for an hour. He's sent me 14 messages. That's all! Coming up: 'Hotel Hell: Airbnb With No Lock Edition.' Chills guaranteed.

Matchday 5 — vs Phoenix No-Defense

78-123 (L)

The referee tosses it high and Hulk rises late, which is exactly how you win one of these. Timing over height, every single time.

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

Across half court, a quick survey, a point to the weak side, and Donald Trump drops it off to Jesus Christ on time and on target. A full spin move through traffic from the messiah! Whatever they teach in that trade, footwork is apparently part of it. Oh my. Jesus Christ did not even draw iron.

Ohhh no. Corner three, Phoenix No-Defense in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

Down screen, and Genghis Khan curls hard into the middle of the floor with a full step of daylight. Easy read. The military leader had that thing halfway down and the rim spat it back out. Nobody ever warns you that the iron has a personality.

Halftime. Donald Trump wolfs down an energy bar in two bites. Confession: Donald Trump calls mom after every loss. And every win. And also on Tuesdays. And now, our halftime TV game show Name That Casserole! To win a folding chair with one leg noticeably shorter than the others, text HOOPS to 555-0177 and answer this question: 'What is the official state bird of a parking lot?' Back at it! The players jog toward center court.

Watch the spacing there, Donald Trump hits Gordon Ramsay right in the shooting pocket and the possession stays alive. Genghis Khan just took a shoulder to the chest to buy Gordon Ramsay half a second, and half a second in this league is an eternity. The crowd has found its chant, and Gordon Ramsay is going to be hearing it all night.

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.

Donald Trump walks it up, two fingers in the air, and the whole offense shifts on his command. Two defenders, one gap, and Genghis Khan finds it. Onions on that pass. Contested, off balance, fading away from the wrong shoulder, that is a shot Jesus Christ should never take with three teammates standing wide open.

Court vision like that on the investor is absurd. Whatever the day job pays him, the assist numbers say he is badly underpriced. Catching it right at the cup with nobody within eight feet, Hulk goes up too strong and the ball rides high off the backboard.

Phoenix No-Defense again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the military leader, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. Straight down the baseline goes the messiah! Whatever shift he worked this morning, he clearly left plenty in the tank. The messiah 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.

Turnover, layup, Phoenix No-Defense straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

The investor is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. Oldest play in the book, and Jesus Christ runs it in his sleep. That drop coverage never had a prayer. Gift wrapped by Donald Trump, and Gordon Ramsay cannot finish the two footer. That one is going to sting.

Somebody explain how the investor reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. The military leader pulls out the crossover of his life, and Monday morning he clocks in like nothing ever happened. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Genghis Khan rose up over the help and hammered it down on somebody's head!

Genghis Khan hangs on the rim one extra beat, letting the whole arena wait on him, then drops down into a dead-eyed mean mug. Jesus Christ shoves him in the chest just to get a reaction. Nothing. Stone face on a man who just changed the game.

Whole huddle leaning in to hear it, and the plan is to hand the game to the military leader. Genius or madness, we are about to find out. Look at the spacing here, two shooters lifting to drag the help, and that leaves Jesus Christ an easy read to Genghis Khan in the pocket. Chess.

Jesus Christ lets out a nervous laugh that sends chills down your spine. Hulk decides not to comment. And here is the answer to our game Name That Casserole! Bobbie Jo Tatum of Mule Shoe Flats, Texas, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the official state bird of a parking lot?' The answer was of course the seagull, even nine hundred miles inland. Bobbie Jo takes home a folding chair with one leg noticeably shorter than the others! I spent the evening standing up and sitting down every thirty seconds. My Fitbit is congratulating me. That's it. Up next: 'Anthony Bourdain Visits: The Park-and-Ride in Poughkeepsie.' Culture shock.

Matchday 6 — vs Los Angeles Nursing-Home

85-130 (L)

Hulk goes fishing at the point of attack, the ball handler feels the hand on his elbow, and the arm goes straight up. He stays out there with five, which tells you how much this coach trusts Hulk and how little he trusts anybody else.

Eight seconds off the shot clock and Donald Trump has not wasted one of them, the ball reaching Genghis Khan precisely where the play wanted it. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Genghis Khan spun out of a double team like it was a revolving door! Two points left on the floor by Genghis Khan, and those are exactly the ones that come back to bite you in the fourth.

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

The beauty of it is that Donald Trump never has to set a screen at all, the exchange IS the screen. Nightmare to guard. The messiah 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. Muscled away at the second jump by Genghis Khan, and this offense resets with a fresh shot clock. Second chance points for Genghis Khan, tipping his own miss straight back in before his feet ever touched the floor.

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

The investor loses the ball to the floor with nobody guarding him. We have all had that kind of day at work.

Off to the locker room. Genghis Khan has already drained two water bottles. Small detail: Genghis Khan wears mismatched socks every game. Calls it a strategy. And now, our halftime TV game show Name That Smell! To win a barbecue apron that reads KISS THE FORKLIFT OPERATOR, text HOOPS to 555-0357 and answer this question: 'Which is heavier, a pound of orange slices or a pound of team spirit?' Back in action! The coach got the message across.

Full stop, full sprint, and the investor is in the paint! Nobody back at the workplace is going to believe this one. Rising into two defenders, Donald Trump launches a jumper that finds nothing but backboard and bad decisions.

Los Angeles Nursing-Home again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

The box score will show nothing at all for the scientist, just a ruined shot and a shooter who will remember that wall all night. The pass is the play here. Genghis Khan never even puts the ball on the floor, he just throws it and lets the runners eat. The bench has cleared, the crowd is screaming, and somewhere a photographer just got the shot of the season thanks to Jesus Christ.

Flexing under the basket, mouth wide open, Jesus Christ roars at nobody in particular. The sound carries over the crowd noise, which should be physically impossible. The referee waits with folded arms, like a substitute teacher who has seen considerably worse.

The chef makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. Hulk sets the pick and DIVES to the cup. Genghis Khan lays it right on his hands in traffic! Down, up, and gone for Hulk. The rim is just toying with him now.

And there it is, a walk-in layup for Los Angeles Nursing-Home with not one hand raised in the paint. Somebody has to protect that rim.

Hard drive, hard stop, and Donald Trump retreats into an ocean of open hardwood. Rim, backboard, none of the above from the investor! Ladies and gentlemen, that is a person with a real job, and we have all just been reminded of it.

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

Wasted possession from Gordon Ramsay. Charge, dead ball, and the other team walks its offense right back up the floor with a free one.

Dagger from Los Angeles Nursing-Home. You could hear the air leave this arena on that one.

Screen, roll, DELIVERY from Donald Trump! Nothing but runway to the rim! Jesus Christ fires that thing at the backboard like it owes him money. No chance from the moment it left his hand.

Donald Trump refuses Los Angeles Nursing-Home's handshake. Genghis Khan offers a limp one with just his fingertips. And here is the answer to our game Name That Smell! Odell Trippett of Broke Axle, Alaska, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'Which is heavier, a pound of orange slices or a pound of team spirit?' The answer was of course the orange slices, and it is not close. Odell takes home a barbecue apron that reads KISS THE FORKLIFT OPERATOR! Confession: I bet against my favorite team tonight. Superstition. It works half the time. That was beautiful. And now: 'House Hunters International: 90-Square-Foot Studio, Wall View.' A steal.

Matchday 7 — vs Toronto Border-Patrol

88-130 (L)

Cross court, on a rope, from the military leader. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. You can teach the jumper, you cannot teach the willingness, and Jesus Christ gives up a decent shot every single time a better one exists. The chef hammers a brick off the backboard so hard the rim is still shaking. Nothing in that resume prepared anybody for this.

Toronto Border-Patrol again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the investor, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. The help defender committed way too early, and Gordon Ramsay made him pay for it with a spin they will be replaying all week. The chef launched one from the logo as the horn sounded. In fairness, nobody in that huddle gave him a better option.

Bucket for Toronto Border-Patrol. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

Here is the part that never makes the highlight package: Donald Trump controlling tempo, burning clock, hunting the mismatch the second one shows up. A military leader breaking down a professional defender in front of a sold out house! Remember that day job, folks! Perfect drop-off from Donald Trump, and Genghis Khan answers with... whatever that was. Off the glass, off the rim, and gone.

Rest time. Donald Trump isolates in a corner of the locker room, headphones on. Did you know Donald Trump once tried to start an ASMR podcast of sneaker squeaks on the hardwood? One episode. Deleted. And now, our halftime TV game show The Gong Show Kazoo Edition! To win a jug of homemade hot sauce labeled only with a warning, text HOOPS to 555-0129 and answer this question: 'What is the correct way to pronounce the name on a jersey that nobody can read?' Come on, second half! The best is yet to come. Or the worst. Who knows.

Not an inch to spare on the endline, but Gordon Ramsay keeps both feet in bounds and the help gets there a beat too late. The chef lines one up from four feet behind the line and the rim rejects the application on the spot. Back to the day job on that possession.

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

Somebody explain how the investor reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. Genghis Khan eats the contact so Hulk can run free along the baseline, and the catch-and-shoot look is right there. Textbook footwork, textbook release from Hulk, cruel result as it spins out and both teams go up for a contested board.

The military leader just froze a grown professional with a hesitation dribble. This man punches a clock and he is out here doing THAT. The ball skips around the perimeter, Gordon Ramsay finds the open man on the weak side, and Genghis Khan buries it.

The military leader makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. The scientist runs a dribble handoff with the timing of a fifteen-year vet. Not bad for somebody who does this on weekends. Runner in the lane by Gordon Ramsay, high off the fingertips, straight down through the net. Splash!

Somebody explain the arc to the investor. He gave away three shots on a prayer, and you can watch the coach age in real time. Five fouls on the investor. One more bump and he goes back to being just a guy with a normal job.

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

Total control. Donald Trump has this thing on a string. That is the third live-ball giveaway of the half, and each one has been the same read: Gordon Ramsay deciding late and throwing early.

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

Clean feed from Genghis Khan, nothing forced, just the offense breathing. The scientist just made the extra pass with a clean look of his own! You do not run into that kind of selflessness at the office! Pull-up from the elbow by Jesus Christ, halfway down, spinning inside the iron, and it pops right back out.

Donald Trump takes off his shoes and carries them like a ghost. Gordon Ramsay follows the same path. And here is the answer to our game The Gong Show Kazoo Edition! Homer Blevins of Lost Wallet, Massachusetts, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the correct way to pronounce the name on a jersey that nobody can read?' The answer was of course however the grandmother in row four says it. Homer takes home a jug of homemade hot sauce labeled only with a warning! Tonight I had a revelation: Gordon Ramsay runs exactly like my neighbor when he misses the bus. That's all for today. Up next: 'Dateline: The True Cost of a Cup of Yogurt.' Deep investigation.

Matchday 8 — vs Minnesota Ice-Wall

78-123 (L)

Dagger from Minnesota Ice-Wall. You could hear the air leave this arena on that one.

Cross court, on a rope, from the investor. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. A messiah breaking down a professional defender in front of a sold out house! Remember that day job, folks! That is the shot Jesus Christ wants every trip down the floor, it drops nine nights out of ten, and tonight is the tenth.

The military leader just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. A probe, a plant of the outside foot, and Jesus Christ pushes off while his man is still fighting to recover his balance. A cruel spin-out for the messiah, and whatever that day job is, tonight it came with a brand new way to break your heart.

Bucket for Minnesota Ice-Wall. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

Ball up the floor, change of speed right at the logo, and Donald Trump already has the defense a full step behind. The defender planted his feet, and Jesus Christ said thank you very much and drove straight through his front pocket. Drop step, jump hook, bucket! Jesus Christ is doing it the old way.

Jesus Christ climbs two rows into the stands and gets swallowed by strangers. He comes back out with somebody's cap on backward and a smear of nacho cheese on his shoulder. Hulk refuses to touch him. This building has never been happier about anything.

Halftime whistle! Donald Trump grabs a towel and collapses on the bench. Juicy anecdote: Donald Trump was caught dancing the Macarena in the showers. Alone. And now, our halftime TV game show Whammy Watch Live! To win a barrel of packing peanuts and absolutely nothing else, text HOOPS to 555-1073 and answer this question: 'How tall is the shortest player who ever dunked in a dream?' Act two! The bench players are fired up, the starters too.

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, Minnesota Ice-Wall, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

A single dribble is all Genghis Khan needed to get downhill, and the back side of that defense is in complete disarray. The military leader 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.

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

Donald Trump turns the corner off the screen from Genghis Khan, the help never rotates, and the lane is WIDE open! Soft off the fingertips, the ball takes a full lap of the rim on Genghis Khan, and spits straight back out. That is theft.

No block, no foul, just Hulk being ENORMOUS in the lane, and that shot never had a chance.

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

Cross court, on a rope, from the chef. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. OHHHH no, Jesus Christ floats it crosscourt and it gets picked off clean. That thing is going the other way.

Telegraphed. Genghis Khan announced that pass three days in advance and the defense RSVP'd.

Swing, swing, and Donald Trump finds Genghis Khan on the wing before the help can even turn its head. Ice in his veins for a guy who answers to military leader the rest of the week. Professional shot, amateur resume. Two on the shot clock and the ball ends up with the investor, which is how you get a twenty-eight footer off the wrong foot.

The assistant points at the far corner, the head coach points at Hulk, and the other three get told exactly where to stand. Cut, screen, relocate, and there is Gordon Ramsay wide open in the corner. Nobody on that defense read one page of it.

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

Genghis Khan replays the score in his head on a loop. Donald Trump tries to think about something else. And here is the answer to our game show Whammy Watch Live! Doris Ann Pickerel of Skunk Cabbage, Connecticut, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How tall is the shortest player who ever dunked in a dream?' The answer was of course five foot two, and the dream was extremely convincing. Doris Ann therefore wins a barrel of packing peanuts and absolutely nothing else! I learned backstage that Donald Trump also does investor on weekends. That explains those reflexes. Good night everyone! Coming up: 'Boot Camp: Supermarket Checkout Line Edition.' Discipline.

Matchday 9 — vs Houston Blast-Off

80-124 (L)

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

The scientist just wiped a layup off the face of the earth and stood over the wreckage! Whatever they teach at that day job, it is working.

Bench energy is real currency over a long season, and Hulk just handed his teammates a full bank account. NOT A CHANCE! Hulk came flying at that pull-up and DELETED it!

Give the man credit for the effort, because Hulk contested that from three feet behind, which is technically a contest. Late rotation from Genghis Khan, he arrives half a beat behind the drive and the contact is obvious to everybody in the building.

More second chance points for Houston Blast-Off, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

Off to the locker room. Gordon Ramsay has already drained two water bottles. Did you know Gordon Ramsay started basketball because he was terrible at soccer? Sometimes failure leads to greatness. And now, our halftime TV game show Truth or Consequences, New Mexico! To win a set of steak knives that cannot cut steak, text HOOPS to 555-0288 and answer this question: 'How many hours can a casserole sit on a church table before it becomes a hazard?' Jump ball to restart. Let the second half begin!

The military leader pulls out the crossover of his life, and Monday morning he clocks in like nothing ever happened. That is the shot Genghis Khan wants every trip down the floor, it drops nine nights out of ten, and tonight is the tenth.

The investor turns clean out of two bodies in the paint. That is nowhere in the job description and yet here we are. Zero hesitation, zero conscience. Donald Trump made that closeout look completely pointless.

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

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

Ball moves. Gordon Ramsay to Donald Trump, on time and on target. Straight down the baseline goes the investor! Whatever shift he worked this morning, he clearly left plenty in the tank. Nobody expects touch like that from the investor, but that floater had more feel than half the starting guards in the league.

Off comes the headband, launched into the crowd like a rock star, and the fight for it delays the inbound. Donald Trump watches two adults wrestle in row four. Half the arena is filming that instead of the game. Everybody in here has lost the plot.

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

Reverse it, make them slide all over again, that is how Genghis Khan breaks a shell down. Baseline spin from Gordon Ramsay at full speed, and his man never even gets a hand into the picture. Filthy stuff. The chef launched one from the logo as the horn sounded. In fairness, nobody in that huddle gave him a better option.

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

The military leader just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. The defender crowded the middle, and Jesus Christ punished him along the baseline like it was drawn up in the huddle. BANG is what Jesus Christ was hearing in his head. Clang is what this building actually got.

Turnover, layup, Houston Blast-Off straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

That was pure cinema from the messiah. Whatever he does for a living, it clearly involves an audience and a curtain call.

Jesus Christ lets out a nervous laugh that sends chills down your spine. Genghis Khan decides not to comment. And here is the answer to our game Truth or Consequences, New Mexico! Idella Prather of Lonesome Water, Mississippi, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many hours can a casserole sit on a church table before it becomes a hazard?' The answer was of course two hours, or one if somebody brought mayonnaise. Idella takes home a set of steak knives that cannot cut steak! My evening? I spent it holding back tears. Of joy? Of exhaustion? Both. Good night! And now, 'The Bachelor: Stray Cat Edition.' Who will find love in this dumpster?

Matchday 10 — vs Denver Horse-Track

78-122 (L)

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

More second chance points for Denver Horse-Track, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

Everything Gordon Ramsay puts up there is going in. Off the dribble, off the catch, off balance, it does not matter one bit. Heat check from Gordon Ramsay, and the heat is officially OFF. Three feet behind the arc with a hand in his face.

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

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 Donald Trump does. AROUND the cylinder and OUT! Donald Trump cannot believe it, and neither can this building.

The locker room. Hulk sprawls out full-length on the bench. Anecdote: Hulk threw up before his first pro game. No more pre-game burgers ever since. And now, our halftime TV game show Are You Smarter Than a Mailbox! To win a paint-by-numbers kit of a barn, already painted wrong, text HOOPS to 555-0066 and answer this question: 'How many keys are on a high school janitor keyring?' The players emerge from the tunnel. Stern faces, clenched fists.

Genghis Khan kicks it over to Hulk, no dribble, no drama, and this offense settles into a rhythm. Second pass beats the rotation, Hulk to Donald Trump, and the closeout gets there about half a second too late. OHHHH, the cylinder rejects the investor! Somewhere a whole workplace just yelled at a television.

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

Pass, skip, reversal, pass again. Jesus Christ shifts with every single one of them and the possession ends in a contested fadeaway. Snatched! Donald Trump came out of NOWHERE for that one.

They do not teach that in the investor handbook, and yet here we are. Beautiful little exchange. Genghis Khan threads a BEAUTY to Hulk under the rim and... he lays it off the bottom of the iron! Ohhhh, no. Another extra possession courtesy of the investor, a man who evidently boxes out at work too. Some habits do not clock out. The whole possession dies right there without Donald Trump on the offensive glass, and instead it becomes the two easiest points of the quarter.

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

Genghis Khan is locked in on the other bench's best player and he has not backed up one single inch. This is what you buy the ticket for.

Cross court, on a rope, from the chef. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. Whirl, and GONE! Hulk leaves the defender grabbing at a jersey that stopped being there half a second ago. Not close, not warm, not anywhere for Hulk, straight into the hands of a defender who never had to leave his feet.

Denver Horse-Track again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

The military leader just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. Beautiful footwork on that one from Hulk, the pivot foot never budges, which is precisely why the whistle stays in the pocket. Straight through the traffic, straight through the contact. The scientist finishes with a free throw coming and the paint suddenly feels very small.

Every single possession of that stretch goes through the chef. Whatever the day job pays, it is not enough for this.

Donald Trump stands alone at center court as the lights go dim. Genghis Khan comes back to get him. And here is the answer to our game Are You Smarter Than a Mailbox! Wanda Sue Beezley of Rooster Comb, South Dakota, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many keys are on a high school janitor keyring?' The answer was of course forty-one, and three of them open nothing at all. Wanda Sue takes home a paint-by-numbers kit of a barn, already painted wrong! During the break, I tried to juggle three balls. My cameraman filmed everything. It'll come out someday. That's a wrap! And now, the network's masterpiece: 'My Cat, My Battle.' Don't miss the finale.

Matchday 11 — vs New York Over-Timers

74-119 (L)

Tip is UP and Jesus Christ gets there first! We are underway and it is our ball.

Dagger from New York Over-Timers. You could hear the air leave this arena on that one.

OHHHH the pin-down! Gordon Ramsay pops out clean while the defender is STILL tangled up with Hulk. Brutal. The chef just had his shot delivered into the courtside seats. Tough scene, but at least the day job is safe.

A cut with that timing from the chef? He is on the clock somewhere else all week and he still found time to learn the two-man game. Get that one framed. Gordon Ramsay took off from the block and the defender is still lying on the floor.

Cold blooded from New York Over-Timers, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

The players head to the locker room. Hulk is sweating like a racehorse. Rumor has it Hulk does 100 push-ups before every game. Or 10. Depends who you ask. And now, our halftime TV game show Scrabble But With Numbers! To win a stack of forty three unread warranty cards, text HOOPS to 555-0736 and answer this question: 'How many numbers are on a jersey that has no numbers?' Here they come. Fresh as daisies. Or not. We'll find out soon enough.

The investor just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. POCKET PASS! Gordon Ramsay threads it to Donald Trump between two bodies and the rim is wide open! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Two points in every gym in America except this one, and Donald Trump is walking back with both hands on his head.

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

A investor breaking down a professional defender in front of a sold out house! Remember that day job, folks! There is nothing accidental about that one. Donald Trump hunted the contact, sold it, and bought himself a trip to the stripe. Spin, one dribble, up and in. Then Donald Trump does the whole thing again. Zero drama, two points.

Donald Trump sprints to the sideline, hops onto the scorer's table and raises both fists. The stat crew grabs their laptops and security is already moving. A trainer hauls him down by the shorts before anybody gets fined. Worth it, obviously.

Cross court, on a rope, from the chef. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. Follow the ball there: four sets of hands, Hulk makes the last read, and the defense never gets set. That is training camp offense. That is what heavy minutes do, Donald Trump has run all night and the legs have nothing left to give the jumper.

Count it and the foul. Brutal. New York Over-Timers with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

Oldest play in the book and it still works: Genghis Khan passes, the defender peeks at the ball, and that one beat is the whole possession. Ambition, ten out of ten. Footwork, two out of ten. Genghis Khan beat himself before the defender ever showed up.

Two guys on the exact same page, Donald Trump and Jesus Christ, and the defense is left holding a bag of nothing. The investor 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.

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

Here is the part that never makes the highlight package: Donald Trump controlling tempo, burning clock, hunting the mismatch the second one shows up. OHHHH the pocket pass! Gordon Ramsay splits the coverage and the roll man is loose under the basket! Rim out for Hulk, the crowd came up and sat right back down, and you can hear the groan from every corner of the arena.

Back at the shop they have got this review up on every phone with the scientist in the frame, and nobody is getting any work done. Brutal for the scientist, who owned the shot of a lifetime for about ninety seconds. Back to the day job with nothing but the story.

Jesus Christ refuses the coach's embrace. Donald Trump accepts it but his body is stiff. And here is the answer to our game show Scrabble But With Numbers! Nadine Frankenberry of Pothole Junction, Iowa, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How many numbers are on a jersey that has no numbers?' The answer was of course one, and it is invisible, and it is a seven. Nadine therefore wins a stack of forty three unread warranty cards! Tonight I chewed through two pens. The office supply budget is going to explode. That's a wrap! And now, the network's masterpiece: 'My Cat, My Battle.' Don't miss the finale.

Matchday 12 — vs Cleveland Twin-Towers

88-132 (L)

The investor just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. The chef just ran that two-man game like he has a decade of film on it. Somebody get this man a contract. Genghis Khan rises up from fifteen feet and OHHHH, that rattled in and OUT!

OHHHH he went BACKDOOR! Gordon Ramsay never broke stride and he has the ball UNDER THE RIM! Bless him, Gordon Ramsay tried a move he has clearly only ever pulled off in an empty gym at midnight. Walk.

Ohhh no. Corner three, Cleveland Twin-Towers in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

Gordon Ramsay kicks it over to Hulk, no dribble, no drama, and this offense settles into a rhythm. Read, screen, delivery, right on the money. A scientist making the right pass every single time, and the league is taking notes. The chef just ran a give and go to perfection on national television! Somebody go tell his boss what he does after hours! Gordon Ramsay takes two dribbles past halfcourt, rises from thirty five feet, and the net barely moves. Filthy.

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

Finally a breather. Jesus Christ has calf cramps, the physio rushes over. Juicy intel: Jesus Christ turned down an endorsement deal because he'd have to wear a mascot costume. And now, our halftime TV game show Minute to Win It or Whatever! To win a bathrobe that is technically a curtain, text HOOPS to 555-0827 and answer this question: 'How many pairs of sneakers are hanging from power lines nationwide?' Second half! The crowd is on its feet, and so are the players.

That is the pass that beats a zone, and Gordon Ramsay threw it before the help even committed. Full stop, full sprint, and the military leader is in the paint! Nobody back at the workplace is going to believe this one. Buzzer on the shot clock, Genghis Khan heaves it off one leg, and the ball comes up short of everything.

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, Cleveland Twin-Towers, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

This is the counter: Donald Trump punished a defense that kept going under, and now they have to rip up the game plan. Hulk had that one all the way, perfect release, perfect arc, and the rim simply refuses to let it drop.

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

Screen, hesitation, delivery, Genghis Khan drops it off perfectly for Donald Trump diving to the rim. So close. Donald Trump can only stare at the iron.

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

OHHHH the separation! Donald Trump just manufactured three feet of daylight out of absolutely nothing. That little shot is what keeps guards employed in this league, and Donald Trump has it on a string tonight.

Dribble handoff from Donald Trump, and the defender gets wiped out on the exchange! That is a dime from Gordon Ramsay that deserved so much better, and Jesus Christ knows it, head down, jogging back before the ball even lands.

Look how low Gordon Ramsay keeps that shoulder on the drive, that is how you turn a sliver of space into a walk to the rim. Nobody touched him, nobody trapped him, and Gordon Ramsay still coughed it up. Easiest whistle these officials will blow all night.

Donald Trump grabs him before the ball even crosses half court. Intentional, obvious, and completely necessary.

Genghis Khan turns back to look at the court one last time. Hulk doesn't turn around. And here is the answer to our game show Minute to Win It or Whatever! Bernice Chadwick of Cabbage Patch Corners, Wisconsin, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How many pairs of sneakers are hanging from power lines nationwide?' The answer was of course two million and change, and not one pair matches. Bernice therefore wins a bathrobe that is technically a curtain! Your commentator lost his press badge during the game. I had to climb over a barrier. Thanks for tonight. And now: '60 Minutes: The Secrets of the Office Coffee Machine.'

Matchday 13 — vs Boston Ring-Chasers

85-129 (L)

Genghis Khan times the leap perfectly and swallows that layup whole. Put it on the front page, that is the play of the night. BAAAANG! Gordon Ramsay throws the outlet ahead and Genghis Khan finishes through contact at the rim!

Straight down the baseline goes the chef! Whatever shift he worked this morning, he clearly left plenty in the tank. Third look from distance for Gordon Ramsay tonight and the arc keeps flattening out, tired legs writing checks the jumper cannot cash.

Boston Ring-Chasers again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

Watch the spacing there, Gordon Ramsay hits Hulk right in the shooting pocket and the possession stays alive. Screened, toasted, done. Hulk is loose and the defense is scrambling to find him. The scientist misses absolutely everything, and honestly, the nerve to even attempt that shot deserves something. Not points. But something.

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

Time to breathe. Jesus Christ has both hands on both knees, completely cooked. Locker room anecdote: Jesus Christ talks to a sock called 'Assistant Coach.' We don't judge. And now, our halftime TV game show Hee Haw Halftime Hoedown! To win a stack of TV listings magazines from the winter of 1986, text HOOPS to 555-0466 and answer this question: 'How many gallons of sweat does an average pep band produce?' The hardwood awaits. Here we go for the second half.

Donald Trump turns and points at his teammates, and the entire bench comes up as one.

GONE down the baseline! Gordon Ramsay beat him on the first step and the paint is collapsing. Stuck out on the perimeter with no outlet, Gordon Ramsay panics, re-dribbles, and hands the possession over on a silver platter.

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

Clean feed from Gordon Ramsay, nothing forced, just the offense breathing. BAAAANG! Genghis Khan sets the table and the pick-and-pop three goes down like somebody scripted it. Stuck holding it as the clock bleeds out, Gordon Ramsay fades away from twenty-six feet, and it is not close.

Punish the help, that is the rule, and Gordon Ramsay just did it by hitting Donald Trump on the back side with acres of room. OHHHH the hesi! Donald Trump froze him solid and he is already gone! Catching it right at the cup with nobody within eight feet, Donald Trump goes up too strong and the ball rides high off the backboard.

No hero ball here: Donald Trump takes what the defense gives and moves it along. The scientist just threaded a pocket pass through two defenders. Where exactly did that vision come from? A timeout is coming, because no defense recovers from watching Jesus Christ do that to one of their own.

Off comes the headband, launched into the crowd like a rock star, and the fight for it delays the inbound. Jesus Christ watches two adults wrestle in row four. Half the arena is filming that instead of the game. Everybody in here has lost the plot.

Bucket for Boston Ring-Chasers. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

The chef takes the baseline and bends an entire defense out of shape. Absolutely absurd stuff in this building tonight. That is a dime from Donald Trump that deserved so much better, and Gordon Ramsay knows it, head down, jogging back before the ball even lands.

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

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

Donald Trump bites his lip, fists clenched. Genghis Khan shakes his head slowly, in disbelief. And here is the answer to our game Hee Haw Halftime Hoedown! Trudy Gebhardt of Sauerkraut Bend, North Dakota, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many gallons of sweat does an average pep band produce?' The answer was of course just under four, and most of it from the tuba section. Trudy takes home a stack of TV listings magazines from the winter of 1986! On my end, the AC in the booth broke down. I sweated more than Genghis Khan. Thanks for watching this game. And now: 'Deal or No Deal: Office Fridge Edition.'

Matchday 14 — vs San Antonio Skyscrapers

73-117 (L)

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

This is the foul that gets your night cut short. Jesus Christ has to contest with a high hand and land in his own space. Nothing but trouble ahead for Jesus Christ. Third foul, and this crew is calling it tight on both ends of the floor.

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

The investor 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 Gordon Ramsay slips it to Hulk right in the pocket. Surgical. The help defender had position, leverage, everything but a chance. Hulk rose straight over the top of him, and one.

Hulk points at Jesus Christ first, then at the pass that made it possible, then at Jesus Christ again, making sure the building knows who did the real work. Jesus Christ waves it off, embarrassed. The chant that starts up is not for the scorer.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the military leader, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. Filthy. Absolutely filthy from Hulk, and the defender knows exactly what just happened to him. Rising up out of the corner, Hulk sends it LONG, clanging off the far side and out to the wing.

Halftime. Jesus Christ wolfs down an energy bar in two bites. Anecdote: Jesus Christ lost a bet and had to wear the center's shoes during warm-ups. Size 16. And now, our halftime TV game show Go Fish for Answers! To win a porch swing missing every single chain, text HOOPS to 555-0468 and answer this question: 'What is the average lifespan of a whistle used in a middle school gym?' We're back! The players look fired up.

Turnover, layup, San Antonio Skyscrapers straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

Everybody in the arena knew the stepback was coming from Genghis Khan, and not one single soul could do anything about it. In, around, and gone. The iron gives Genghis Khan nothing.

Laser from Donald Trump, corner to corner, and that closeout gets there about a second and a half too late. Watch the sell from Hulk here, he leans in, he gets the defender leaning with him, and then he backs away into all that space. Onions! Hulk did that with a hand in his face.

Straight to the logo at center court, Hulk plants both feet and flexes until the veins show. The bench is a pile of bodies and airborne headbands. An assistant coach has to be physically restrained by a trainer who is also celebrating.

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

The extra pass! Gordon Ramsay had the look, gave it up anyway, and Donald Trump buries it. BANG! No touch. Donald Trump left the soft hands in the locker room tonight.

Somebody explain how the investor reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. Right through the window. Hulk to Genghis Khan on the roll, and the help was a half step late. Awful shot by Genghis Khan with eleven still on the shot clock, off the front rim and out to the wing.

Dagger from San Antonio Skyscrapers. You could hear the air leave this arena on that one.

Swing, swing, and Gordon Ramsay finds Jesus Christ on the wing before the help can even turn its head. Screened, toasted, done. Jesus Christ is loose and the defense is scrambling to find him. Up goes the shot from Jesus Christ and that is nothing but AIR, and every soul in this building saw it happen.

Unselfish basketball. Gordon Ramsay passes up a good shot and hands Genghis Khan a GREAT one. The military leader launched one from the logo as the horn sounded. In fairness, nobody in that huddle gave him a better option.

The military leader makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. Day job, then this: the scientist reads a rolling big like a coach with twenty years on the bench. Textbook footwork, textbook release from Gordon Ramsay, cruel result as it spins out and both teams go up for a contested board.

Hulk has bags under his eyes that weren't there before the game. Jesus Christ has aged ten years in forty minutes. And here is the answer to our game show Go Fish for Answers! Peggy Ann Winterbottom of Two Chairs, Nebraska, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'What is the average lifespan of a whistle used in a middle school gym?' The answer was of course six years, or two seasons of an especially loud coach. Peggy Ann therefore wins a porch swing missing every single chain! Fun fact: my driver has been waiting in the parking lot for an hour. He's sent me 14 messages. That's a wrap for tonight. Coming up: 'The Amazing Race: Subway Line 13.' Viewer discretion advised.

Matchday 15 — vs Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest

83-128 (L)

And there it is, a walk-in layup for Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest with not one hand raised in the paint. Somebody has to protect that rim.

Third reach charged to Jesus Christ. At some point the officials stop giving you the benefit of the doubt, and that point was two whistles ago.

Jesus Christ forces a contested fadeaway with a hand in his face, front rim, and the drought rolls on. Prayer from Gordon Ramsay. Not answered.

Behind the back was the idea, the ball had entirely different plans, and Genghis Khan gets a collective groan for his trouble.

SKIP PASS! Gordon Ramsay fires it cross court to Jesus Christ and the defense is dead in the water! OHHHH that is filthy! Jesus Christ on the handoff and the man guarding it is still fighting over the top. Pull-up from the elbow by Gordon Ramsay, halfway down, spinning inside the iron, and it pops right back out.

The players disappear into the tunnel. Donald Trump asks for an ice pack. Little scoop: Donald Trump logs every game in a notebook. With stars and smiley faces. At that age. And now, our halftime TV game show Storage Wars of the Half-Empty Unit! To win a bag of nine hundred rubber bands from a post office, text HOOPS to 555-0278 and answer this question: 'How many folding tables does a county fair actually own?' Both teams emerge from the tunnel. The second half can begin.

Bucket for Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

Rip through, one dribble, contact. Donald Trump plays that little game better than anybody on this floor. The investor just airballed a FREE THROW, and somewhere a group chat has already saved that clip forever.

Donald Trump launches it weak side, one pass, and the whole shell has to sprint. Good luck with that. From WAY downtown off the pop! Hulk with the extra pass and CASH. Jesus Christ drives, draws two bodies, and swings it one more time to the corner. That is the pass nobody is required to make. Two defenders in the lane, Genghis Khan splits them, double clutches and kisses it off the square. Count it!

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

OHHHH the bench is GONE! Towels over heads, bodies off the chairs, all because of Donald Trump! The chef just blocked a jump shot into the stands and went back on defense like it was a normal Tuesday.

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

The military leader just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. Off the pin-down comes the scientist with nobody inside a zip code. Somebody out there knows how to use a screen, and it is not who you would guess. Missed layup for the scientist and the whole arena groans as one. Great hands in the day job, apparently they do not travel.

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

Bodies everywhere in the paint and it does not matter one bit to Donald Trump, one spin and the ball never leaves the string. Filthy patience from Donald Trump. He waits for the fly-by, leans into it, and turns one possession into three free points.

Huddle is tight, marker squeaking on the board, and Hulk is already nodding before the coach finishes the sentence. Sixty seconds in the huddle and Gordon Ramsay cashes it without a single wasted dribble. Textbook.

Gordon Ramsay points at Genghis Khan first, then at the pass that made it possible, then at Genghis Khan again, making sure the building knows who did the real work. Genghis Khan waves it off, embarrassed. The chant that starts up is not for the scorer.

Jesus Christ has bags under his eyes that weren't there before the game. Gordon Ramsay has aged ten years in forty minutes. And here is the answer to our game Storage Wars of the Half-Empty Unit! Verna Lou Cottongim of Flat Tire, Arizona, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many folding tables does a county fair actually own?' The answer was of course nobody knows, because they multiply in the off-season. Verna Lou takes home a bag of nine hundred rubber bands from a post office! Fun fact: my driver has been waiting in the parking lot for an hour. He's sent me 14 messages. Good evening! Up next: 'Fixer Upper: Renovating a Studio on a Twelve-Dollar Budget.' Challenge accepted.