My dream starting five — basketball_team 🇦🇺

Matchday 1 — vs Detroit Engine-Roar

87-131 (L)

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.

Over the top of everybody. John the Baptist to Galactus in the corner, wide open, catch and rise. The player just handed that one straight to the other team. Hey, nobody is perfect at two jobs at once.

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

Bench energy is real currency over a long season, and Scott Lang just handed his teammates a full bank account. Nobody gambles less and steals more than Scott Lang. He does not reach, he anticipates, and that is the whole difference.

Turnover, layup, Detroit Engine-Roar straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

Back in the locker room, John the Baptist sits down and stares at the ceiling. I've been told John the Baptist once ordered a pizza during a timeout. The coach was not amused. 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?' Here we go. Tactical adjustments have been made.

Pass, cut, catch, wide open. Four things in about a second and a half from Zeus. Long miss from the superhero 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.

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

Personal foul on the player. Somewhere a shift is going uncovered and not one soul in this arena cares. Galactus reaches, gets caught, whistle. Third personal, and the coach immediately looks down his bench.

Zeus walks it up, two fingers in the air, and the whole offense shifts on his command. Oldest play in the book and it still works: Galactus passes, the defender peeks at the ball, and that one beat is the whole possession. The ball skips around the perimeter, Steve Smith finds the open man on the weak side, and Galactus buries it.

Right hand to the mouthguard, out, pointed at the rafters, back in. Galactus 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.

This is the counter: Zeus punished a defense that kept going under, and now they have to rip up the game plan. Stuck holding it as the clock bleeds out, Galactus fades away from twenty-six feet, and it is not close.

The ball travels faster than five defenders can, and Steve Smith has known that all night long. This is the work that never shows up on a stat sheet, Scott Lang gets the credit and the guy setting the screen gets the bruise. Down, up, and gone for Scott Lang. The rim is just toying with him now.

That is the pass that beats a zone, and Steve Smith threw it before the help even committed. The player reads the screen perfectly, comes off shoulder to shoulder, and buys himself an open look. Veteran movement, rookie resume. Day job, then this: the player reads a rolling big like a coach with twenty years on the bench. Put him on skates, then put him on a POSTER. Zeus owns the highlight reel tonight.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Zeus whips that pass one-handed on the move and the roll man gathers it through contact. Filthy. Not a hand on him. John the Baptist flat missed the bunny.

More second chance points for Detroit Engine-Roar, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

Two guys on the exact same page, Steve Smith and Scott Lang, and the defense is left holding a bag of nothing. DOUBLE DRIBBLE! Steve Smith picked it up, put it back down, and the whistle went off like a smoke alarm.

Scott Lang presses his forehead against the tunnel glass. Steve Smith walks right past without noticing. 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 halftime, I tried to interview the mascot. It ignored me. I'll recover eventually. Thanks everyone! Up next: 'Ice Road Truckers: Uber Eats Delivery on a Rainy Night.'

Matchday 2 — vs Miami Heart-Attack

88-133 (L)

Dagger from Miami Heart-Attack. You could hear the air leave this arena on that one.

Scott Lang got the ball, but he got it on the way down, and they are awarded the two anyway.

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

Feet set, chest low, hands high. The player will not give up that block, and the building has decided he is their guy. OUTLET! Scott Lang rips the board and fires it ahead to Zeus before anybody gets back! The superhero just put somebody on a POSTER! That defender is going to see this clip for the rest of his life!

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

Halftime! Steve Smith has the hardwood pattern imprinted on his elbow. Anecdote: Steve Smith tried to impress the Miami Heart-Attack players with a warm-up dunk. Hit the rim. With his face. And now, our halftime TV game show Big Brother-in-Law! To win a novelty license plate that spells HOTDOG incorrectly, text HOOPS to 555-0296 and answer this question: 'How many pockets can cargo shorts have before they legally become furniture?' We're back! The DJ cranks the volume, the players charge onto the court.

The big rolls, the defense collapses, and Steve Smith punishes it with a read most guys never even see. You can hear this arena react a half second before the ball even goes through, and that tells you everything about Galactus.

Galactus finds the courtside camera lens, leans all the way in and says absolutely nothing. Just breathes on it. Eight seconds of national television filled by one enormous face. Zeus photobombs with crossed eyes, and the clip runs on every highlight show by midnight.

John the Baptist stutters at the elbow, the defender bites on it, and now there is nothing but open floor between him and the rim. John the Baptist draws the foul on a THREE-POINT attempt. The building groans, the coach turns around, and nobody wants to make eye contact.

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

Watch the spacing there, Zeus hits Galactus right in the shooting pocket and the possession stays alive. The player pulls out the crossover of his life, and Monday morning he clocks in like nothing ever happened. Way short from Galactus off the bounce, the ball dies on the front of the rim and drops into traffic.

Laser from Steve Smith, corner to corner, and that closeout gets there about a second and a half too late. 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! Steve Smith went for the deep heat check and produced the loudest silence of the night, roar to OHHHH in half a second.

OHHHH NO! Galactus took the legs out from under a man in mid-air and that is a FLAGRANT TWO!

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

Scott Lang gets it on the reversal and now this defense is rotating, scrambling and losing ground, all because Steve Smith saw it a beat early. Give and go! Scott Lang gives it up, cuts, and gets it right back with a clear lane to the cup! Gift wrapped by John the Baptist, and Scott Lang cannot finish the two footer. That one is going to sting.

That is a foot speed problem. Steve Smith keeps grabbing instead of sliding, and in this league that gets your coach a miserable night. Foul trouble is a chess match and Steve Smith just lost a piece. Three before the break changes how this team defends the pick and roll.

Not pretty, but this is arithmetic now. John the Baptist trades one foul for one more possession, and down five with a minute left, that math works.

Zeus's eyes are glassy. Steve Smith mumbles 'we'll get them next time' without believing it. And here is the answer to our game Big Brother-in-Law! Peggy Ann Hollifield of Sassafras Gap, South Carolina, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many pockets can cargo shorts have before they legally become furniture?' The answer was of course eleven, and at twelve you have to register them with the county. Peggy Ann takes home a novelty license plate that spells HOTDOG incorrectly! I tried taking notes during the game. My notebook is full of incomprehensible scribbles. See you at the next game. In the meantime: 'MasterClass: How to Fold a Fitted Sheet.' Gripping television.

Matchday 3 — vs Orlando Magic-Beans

73-118 (L)

Orlando Magic-Beans again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

This is the foul that gets your night cut short. John the Baptist has to contest with a high hand and land in his own space. Five fouls on the hermit. One more bump and he goes back to being just a guy with a normal job.

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

Zeus turns the corner off the screen from John the Baptist, the help never rotates, and the lane is WIDE open! It went halfway down! The ball sat in the cylinder, thought about it, and rolled off the far side on John the Baptist. Cruel.

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

Break! Zeus takes his jersey off before even reaching the locker room. Anecdote: Zeus tried to impress the Orlando Magic-Beans players with a warm-up dunk. Hit the rim. With his face. And now, our halftime TV game show Concentration on Something Else! To win a giant foam finger that points at the ground, text HOOPS to 555-0176 and answer this question: 'How many exits does a corn maze legally require?' Both teams return. You can tell the coach gave them an earful.

Ball up the floor, change of speed right at the logo, and Zeus already has the defense a full step behind. OHHHH the pin-down! Steve Smith pops out clean while the defender is STILL tangled up with John the Baptist. Brutal. From eight feet Steve Smith puts way too much on it, and the ball clears the rim entirely.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the hermit, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. Kick out to Galactus, one more to Scott Lang, splash from the wing and this bench is on its feet. The crowd has found its chant, and Scott Lang is going to be hearing it all night.

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

John the Baptist launches it weak side, one pass, and the whole shell has to sprint. Good luck with that. One little shoulder dip from Scott Lang and the guy guarding him turned into a traffic cone in real time. Heat check for Scott Lang and it is GOOD. He is COOKING, and this building knows exactly what it is watching.

Buckets, dimes, and one absolute dagger from Galactus to cap it off. This building is so loud the huddle cannot hear itself think.

Ball moves. Zeus to John the Baptist, on time and on target. The hermit just threaded a pocket pass through two defenders. Where exactly did that vision come from? Drop step, jump hook, bucket! Steve Smith is doing it the old way.

Somebody explain how the superhero reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. Screen, pop, SPLASH! Steve Smith kicks it out and that thing never touched iron. Rim, backboard, none of the above from the hermit! Ladies and gentlemen, that is a person with a real job, and we have all just been reminded of it.

Bodies everywhere in the paint and it does not matter one bit to John the Baptist, one spin and the ball never leaves the string. John the Baptist had that one all the way, perfect release, perfect arc, and the rim simply refuses to let it drop.

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

Punish the help, that is the rule, and Steve Smith just did it by hitting Scott Lang on the back side with acres of room. Baseline wide open. Scott Lang said thank you. Twenty-four seconds of standing around, and Scott Lang has to eat the last two of them. Possession wasted long before the shot went up.

Scott Lang bites his lip, fists clenched. Galactus shakes his head slowly, in disbelief. And here is the answer to our game Concentration on Something Else! Sherleen Doty of Big Chimney, Idaho, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many exits does a corn maze legally require?' The answer was of course one, and even that is a suggestion. Sherleen takes home a giant foam finger that points at the ground! Fun fact: my sound engineer fell asleep during the second quarter. I woke him with an elbow. We're done here. Up next: 'Top Chef: Microwave Edition.' Bon appetit.

Matchday 4 — vs Philadelphia Injury-Report

89-133 (L)

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

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

The superhero pops to the arc and buries it, and nobody in this building believes that man clocks in somewhere in the morning. That stepback is unguardable once the drive gets sold, and Scott Lang has had that defender guessing wrong all night long.

Ball into John the Baptist at the elbow, Zeus plants his foot and goes backdoor, and the pass meets him in the air. Filthy. REJECTED! Zeus takes it in and gets it sent straight back into his own chest.

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

Halftime! Galactus looks in the mirror and shakes his head. Bus driver's confession: Galactus raps gibberish during road trips. Loudly. And now, our halftime TV game show Match Game Winding Down! To win a souvenir shot glass from a state park with no water in it, text HOOPS to 555-0509 and answer this question: 'Which came first, the backboard or the regret?' The players step onto the hardwood once more. The second half starts now.

Set called, Steve Smith waved out to the corner, and Zeus watches the spacing open up like a front door. Ice in his veins for a guy who answers to cricketer the rest of the week. Professional shot, amateur resume. Zeus fires that thing at the backboard like it owes him money. No chance from the moment it left his hand.

The cricketer makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. Telegraphed. John the Baptist announced that pass three days in advance and the defense RSVP'd.

Ohhh no. Corner three, Philadelphia Injury-Report in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

Eight seconds off the shot clock and Zeus has not wasted one of them, the ball reaching John the Baptist precisely where the play wanted it. 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 John the Baptist does. The big man never even contested it, and John the Baptist still could not get the runner to drop. That one is on him.

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

You want basketball IQ? Ask the superhero, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. The defender planted his feet, and Steve Smith said thank you very much and drove straight through his front pocket. A cruel spin-out for the cricketer, and whatever that day job is, tonight it came with a brand new way to break your heart.

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

Cheap. Nothing about that shot was going down, and Zeus handed over three freebies anyway.

Cross court, on a rope, from the superhero. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. Steve Smith comes flying off that screen and he is WIDE open! So close. Steve Smith can only stare at the iron.

Watch the sell from John the Baptist here, he leans in, he gets the defender leaning with him, and then he backs away into all that space. The bench has cleared, the crowd is screaming, and somewhere a photographer just got the shot of the season thanks to John the Baptist.

Backing all the way to half court with three fingers held over each eye, John the Baptist 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.

Zeus clenches his left fist, unclenches, clenches again. Galactus fidgets with his wristband nervously. And here is the answer to our game show Match Game Winding Down! Georgette Blalock of Little Persimmon, North Carolina, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'Which came first, the backboard or the regret?' The answer was of course the regret, by about eleven minutes. Georgette therefore wins a souvenir shot glass from a state park with no water in it! Tonight I nearly had a heart attack at least four times. And I'm just the commentator. Alright, good evening! Now it's 'Love Is in the Parking Lot.' Romance guaranteed.

Matchday 5 — vs Phoenix No-Defense

88-132 (L)

Careless stuff from Galactus. That is a free trip to the line for a steal that was never happening. Most defenders get to use their hands. Galactus has five, so he is out there guarding with his eyebrows.

That is the pass nobody puts on a highlight reel, and John the Baptist makes it every single trip down the floor. Down screen, and Scott Lang curls hard into the middle of the floor with a full step of daylight. Easy read. Nobody dribbled, nobody isolated, Scott Lang and John the Baptist just played basketball and the defense got shredded. Scott Lang attacks the baseline, the big man steps up to meet him, and it does not matter one bit. FILTHY.

Scott Lang does the bit whole team practiced in the hotel: a slow-motion handshake with John the Baptist that goes on far too long, sound effects included. Six full seconds. The referee stands there holding the ball. Neither man breaks character.

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

Lazy feed into the middle, Scott Lang read it the whole way, and that possession is over before it started. Tipped away by Scott Lang! Loose ball, scramble, bodies everywhere, and it ends up in our hands.

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

Halftime. Scott Lang's hair is completely soaked, like climbing out of a pool. Juicy intel: Scott Lang turned down an endorsement deal because he'd have to wear a mascot costume. And now, our halftime TV game show High Rollers Low Ceilings! To win a beach towel printed with a map of a landlocked county, text HOOPS to 555-1024 and answer this question: 'How many timeouts can a coach call before the crowd revolts?' The arena lights up, the players are back. Game on.

Off the pin-down comes the hermit with nobody inside a zip code. Somebody out there knows how to use a screen, and it is not who you would guess. The block is clean, the ball is gone, and John the Baptist is left staring at his empty hands like a man who lost his keys.

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

Galactus stopped the break and started a much bigger problem. Two free throws, the ball right back, and the officials heading to the monitor.

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.

John the Baptist rips it back into the stepback and suddenly there is a country mile between him and that defender. Rising into two defenders, John the Baptist launches a jumper that finds nothing but backboard and bad decisions.

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

Dagger from Phoenix No-Defense. You could hear the air leave this arena on that one.

Zeus comes off the screen and the big man drops WAY back. John the Baptist just fades to the arc for the cleanest look of the night. Two on the shot clock and the ball ends up with the hermit, which is how you get a twenty-eight footer off the wrong foot.

A full spin move through traffic from the hermit! Whatever they teach in that trade, footwork is apparently part of it. OHHHH! John the Baptist went up looking for a poster and came back down as the punchline.

This is the part of the league nobody loves and everybody watches: Scott Lang waits with both hands on top of his head. The player is finding out what this league does to people. It hands you the moment, then it rolls the tape.

Scott Lang refuses to watch the replay on the jumbotron. Steve Smith watches it and immediately regrets it. And here is the answer to our game show High Rollers Low Ceilings! Marlene Trickett of Cornsilk Junction, South Dakota, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How many timeouts can a coach call before the crowd revolts?' The answer was of course three, and the fourth one starts a conversation nobody enjoys. Marlene therefore wins a beach towel printed with a map of a landlocked county! I spent the evening standing up and sitting down every thirty seconds. My Fitbit is congratulating me. That's all for tonight. And now: 'Deadliest Catch: Rush Hour on the Beltway.' Documentary.

Matchday 6 — vs Los Angeles Nursing-Home

78-123 (L)

The hermit just created his own space with a stepback. Somewhere a scout is spitting coffee all over his notepad. AND ONE! John the Baptist finishes THROUGH the contact and the whistle comes with it!

Swing, swing, and Steve Smith finds John the Baptist on the wing before the help can even turn its head. OHHHH, what a read by John the Baptist! He never even glanced at the rim and it is CASH on the other end. Rises, releases, and Zeus sends the ball through the exact patch of sky where the rim is not.

Across half court, a quick survey, a point to the weak side, and Zeus drops it off to John the Baptist on time and on target. OHHHH the separation! John the Baptist just manufactured three feet of daylight out of absolutely nothing. That is what heavy minutes do, John the Baptist has run all night and the legs have nothing left to give the jumper.

Total control. Zeus has this thing on a string. Full stop, full sprint, and the player is in the paint! Nobody back at the workplace is going to believe this one. John the Baptist threads a BEAUTY to Scott Lang under the rim and... he lays it off the bottom of the iron! Ohhhh, no.

No hero ball here: John the Baptist takes what the defense gives and moves it along. Day job, then this: the superhero reads a rolling big like a coach with twenty years on the bench. That is the shot Scott Lang wants every trip down the floor, it drops nine nights out of ten, and tonight is the tenth.

Halftime! Steve Smith has the hardwood pattern imprinted on his elbow. Anecdote: Steve Smith lost a bet and had to wear the center's shoes during warm-ups. Size 16. And now, our halftime TV game show The Chase to the Dollar Store! To win a boxed set of instructional VHS tapes about gutter care, text HOOPS to 555-0225 and answer this question: 'How long is a minute on a stopwatch held by somebody in a hurry?' Break's over, time for basketball. Let's go.

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.

Ooof. Steve Smith got put on SKATES right there. Reach-in on Zeus. He wanted the steal, he bought a foul.

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

A chair knocked flat, an assistant coach holding somebody back by the jersey, that whole row completely unhinged. That is the Steve Smith effect.

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

John the Baptist kicks it over to Galactus, no dribble, no drama, and this offense settles into a rhythm. Galactus holds it, waits, waits some more, then lets it go at the last possible instant to Zeus flying by. That is a half-second window and he threads it. Unselfish basketball. Zeus passes up a good shot and hands Steve Smith a GREAT one. Stop on a dime, up and over those outstretched arms, and the center can only stand there and watch Steve Smith walk away from it.

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

Count it and the foul. Brutal. Los Angeles Nursing-Home with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

Clean feed from Zeus, nothing forced, just the offense breathing. Not an inch to spare on the endline, but Scott Lang keeps both feet in bounds and the help gets there a beat too late. Perfect drop-off from Galactus, and Scott Lang answers with... whatever that was. Off the glass, off the rim, and gone.

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

Reverse it, make them slide all over again, that is how John the Baptist breaks a shell down. Screened, toasted, done. Steve Smith is loose and the defense is scrambling to find him. The cricketer misses absolutely everything, and honestly, the nerve to even attempt that shot deserves something. Not points. But something.

John the Baptist has bags under his eyes that weren't there before the game. Galactus has aged ten years in forty minutes. And here is the answer to our game The Chase to the Dollar Store! Lurlene Dobbins of Rusty Spoon, New Mexico, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How long is a minute on a stopwatch held by somebody in a hurry?' The answer was of course fifty-one seconds, give or take a conscience. Lurlene takes home a boxed set of instructional VHS tapes about gutter care! I learned backstage that Galactus also does superhero on weekends. That explains those reflexes. Thanks for being here. Coming up: 'Forbidden Zone: Behind the Scenes of a Vending Machine.'

Matchday 7 — vs Toronto Border-Patrol

80-124 (L)

Both guys crouch, both guys go, and it is Galactus who wins the little argument at center court.

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

OHHHH the hesi! Zeus froze him solid and he is already gone! Pull-up from the elbow by Zeus, halfway down, spinning inside the iron, and it pops right back out.

Ball moves. Zeus to John the Baptist, on time and on target. Read, screen, delivery, right on the money. A hermit making the right pass every single time, and the league is taking notes. BRICK! Galactus throws up a prayer and the iron sends it straight back out to half court!

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

Halftime! Zeus has the hardwood pattern imprinted on his elbow. Intel: Zeus asked Toronto Border-Patrol for their energy drink recipe. They refused. 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 step onto the hardwood once more. The second half starts now.

SKIP PASS! Steve Smith fires it cross court to Scott Lang and the defense is dead in the water! You can teach the jumper, you cannot teach the willingness, and Scott Lang gives up a decent shot every single time a better one exists. The hermit misses absolutely everything, and honestly, the nerve to even attempt that shot deserves something. Not points. But something.

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, Toronto Border-Patrol, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

The superhero is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. Enough room out there to set up a lawn chair, and the hermit made it himself. Total professional, in a completely unrelated profession. Soft touch from John the Baptist, the floater drops right over the big man. Cash.

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

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

Watch the spacing there, John the Baptist hits Steve Smith right in the shooting pocket and the possession stays alive. The cricketer just ran a give and go to perfection on national television! Somebody go tell his boss what he does after hours! The cricketer launched one from the logo as the horn sounded. In fairness, nobody in that huddle gave him a better option.

Scott Lang sets the pick and DIVES to the cup. Zeus lays it right on his hands in traffic! OHHHHH POSTERIZED! Scott Lang just ENDED that defender at the rim!

Scott Lang runs the baseline high-fiving every hand hanging over the rail, all the way to the corner and back. It takes forever. Play is waiting on him. Nobody in the building wants it to stop, including, visibly, the officials.

That is the pass nobody puts on a highlight reel, and John the Baptist makes it every single trip down the floor. Scott Lang just took a shoulder to the chest to buy Galactus half a second, and half a second in this league is an eternity. Oh my. Galactus did not even draw iron.

Perfect timing, no contact, no whistle from Scott Lang, just a clean swat and a stance that dares anybody else to try it.

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

Here is the part that never makes the highlight package: Zeus controlling tempo, burning clock, hunting the mismatch the second one shows up. The player just created his own space with a stepback. Somewhere a scout is spitting coffee all over his notepad. Textbook footwork, textbook release from Scott Lang, cruel result as it spins out and both teams go up for a contested board.

Galactus scratches the back of his neck nervously. Steve Smith has the look of someone who has seen things. 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! Your commentator lost his press badge during the game. I had to climb over a barrier. Thanks for being here. Now put down the remote, it's time for 'Wheel of Misfortune.'

Matchday 8 — vs Minnesota Ice-Wall

83-127 (L)

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

Cold blooded from Minnesota Ice-Wall, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the superhero, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. Court vision like that on the player is absurd. Whatever the day job pays him, the assist numbers say he is badly underpriced. Getting to his spot and elevating, John the Baptist puts it on the back iron, up over the front, and out. Half a rotation from two points.

Push the pace! Zeus grabs it and hits John the Baptist in stride before the defense can even match up. The hermit reads the screen perfectly, comes off shoulder to shoulder, and buys himself an open look. Veteran movement, rookie resume. AROUND the cylinder and OUT! John the Baptist cannot believe it, and neither can this building.

The cricketer just made the extra pass with a clean look of his own! You do not run into that kind of selflessness at the office! Blocked into the floor. Scott Lang will be seeing that one in his sleep.

Halftime whistle! John the Baptist grabs a towel and collapses on the bench. Locker room intel: John the Baptist has a tattoo of a basketball hoop on his butt. That's commitment. And now, our halftime TV game show Big Brother-in-Law! To win a novelty license plate that spells HOTDOG incorrectly, text HOOPS to 555-0296 and answer this question: 'How many pockets can cargo shorts have before they legally become furniture?' Play resumes. The DJ drops a beat to hype up the crowd.

SPIN and GO! Zeus pirouettes right through the traffic and comes out the other side clean! Soft off the fingertips, the ball takes a full lap of the rim on Zeus, and spits straight back out. That is theft.

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

Day job, then this: the cricketer reads a rolling big like a coach with twenty years on the bench. Ambition, ten out of ten. Footwork, two out of ten. Zeus beat himself before the defender ever showed up.

The superhero just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. A player breaking down a professional defender in front of a sold out house! Remember that day job, folks! Scott Lang rises up from fifteen feet and OHHHH, that rattled in and OUT!

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.

The superhero is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. Watch the spacing, Galactus drags two bodies toward the ball and Scott Lang is standing alone behind the line. Geometry, not luck. Scott Lang hands it off to John the Baptist, slices through the seam, and the return pass is sitting there waiting at the rim. The player just dropped a teardrop over a seven footer. Soft hands must run in that trade!

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

A probe, a plant of the outside foot, and Zeus pushes off while his man is still fighting to recover his balance. The superhero had that thing halfway down and the rim spat it back out. Nobody ever warns you that the iron has a personality.

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

Ball up the floor, change of speed right at the logo, and Zeus already has the defense a full step behind. The player turns clean out of two bodies in the paint. That is nowhere in the job description and yet here we are. From WAY downtown! Galactus launched that one from the parking lot!

Steve Smith pulls his cap down over his eyes. John the Baptist doesn't have a cap, and it shows. And here is the answer to our game Big Brother-in-Law! Peggy Ann Hollifield of Sassafras Gap, South Carolina, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many pockets can cargo shorts have before they legally become furniture?' The answer was of course eleven, and at twelve you have to register them with the county. Peggy Ann takes home a novelty license plate that spells HOTDOG incorrectly! I learned that Steve Smith's father was a superhero. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. That's a wrap for tonight. Coming up: 'The Amazing Race: Subway Line 13.' Viewer discretion advised.

Matchday 9 — vs Houston Blast-Off

80-124 (L)

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

Count it and the foul. Brutal. Houston Blast-Off with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

Ejected for fighting, the player. Tomorrow morning he goes right back to being the calmest person in the room, allegedly.

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

Zeus walks it up, two fingers in the air, and the whole offense shifts on his command. STOP AND GO! Steve Smith hit the brakes, hit the gas, and the lane opened up like a garage door. Missed layup for the cricketer and the whole arena groans as one. Great hands in the day job, apparently they do not travel.

Halftime! John the Baptist is limping slightly heading off the court. Did you know John the Baptist entered the dunk contest... At 5'9"? Courage knows no height. And now, our halftime TV game show Let Us Make a Deal! To win a jar of pickles from 1997 with the label soaked clean off, text HOOPS to 555-0044 and answer this question: 'Why do referees always walk faster than everybody else in the building?' Back on the floor, faces full of determination.

Clean feed from Zeus, nothing forced, just the offense breathing. Galactus attacks the baseline and the ENTIRE defense has to rotate behind him! Galactus blows the wide open layup!

Ball moves. John the Baptist to Steve Smith, on time and on target. Hard drive, hard stop, and Steve Smith retreats into an ocean of open hardwood. Steve Smith lets it FLY from way downtown and... front rim. Not this time.

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, Houston Blast-Off, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

Here comes the slip from Scott Lang, and Zeus reads it a half second before anybody else in the building. Two points left on the floor by Scott Lang, and those are exactly the ones that come back to bite you in the fourth.

Somebody explain how the superhero reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. The player takes the baseline and bends an entire defense out of shape. Absolutely absurd stuff in this building tonight. Onions! Galactus did that with a hand in his face.

Backing all the way to half court with three fingers held over each eye, Galactus 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.

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.

OHHHH he went BACKDOOR! Zeus never broke stride and he has the ball UNDER THE RIM! No touch. Zeus left the soft hands in the locker room tonight.

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

Ball up the floor, change of speed right at the logo, and Zeus already has the defense a full step behind. Textbook two-man game: John the Baptist keeps the dribble alive, forces the big man to commit, and Zeus rolls into an open runway. That is the shot chart lying to you. Zeus did everything right on this possession and has zero points to show for it.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the superhero, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. The player just ran that two-man game like he has a decade of film on it. Somebody get this man a contract. Nobody dribbled, nobody isolated, John the Baptist and Galactus just played basketball and the defense got shredded. Nobody expects touch like that from the hermit, but that floater had more feel than half the starting guards in the league.

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

Zeus refuses to watch the replay on the jumbotron. John the Baptist watches it and immediately regrets it. And here is the answer to our game Let Us Make a Deal! Herschel Bumgarner of Two Silos, Nebraska, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'Why do referees always walk faster than everybody else in the building?' The answer was of course because somewhere in that building there is a sandwich with their name on it. Herschel takes home a jar of pickles from 1997 with the label soaked clean off! During the third quarter, I spilled my soup. Yes, I had soup in the booth. Don't judge. Thanks for tonight. Up next: 'American Ninja Warrior: No Elevator Edition.' Sixth floor, no landing.

Matchday 10 — vs Denver Horse-Track

86-131 (L)

Reverse it, make them slide all over again, that is how Steve Smith breaks a shell down. Everybody in the arena knew the stepback was coming from Zeus, and not one single soul could do anything about it. Third look from distance for Zeus tonight and the arc keeps flattening out, tired legs writing checks the jumper cannot cash.

Clean feed from Steve Smith, nothing forced, just the offense breathing. Hesitate, GO. Galactus is by that hip before the man even blinks. Awful shot by Galactus with eleven still on the shot clock, off the front rim and out to the wing.

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

Nobody is getting a hand near that. John the Baptist has all the room in the world. Wide open at the top of the key and John the Baptist cannot make it count, the defense secures the board and takes off in transition.

The superhero just froze a grown professional with a hesitation dribble. This man punches a clock and he is out here doing THAT. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! That was IN for Zeus!

The players disappear. Zeus has a makeshift neck brace out of a towel. Little scoop: Zeus collects Pokemon cards. That Charizard is worth more than his first contract. 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?' The buzzer calls the players. Time for the show, act II.

No hero ball here: John the Baptist takes what the defense gives and moves it along. Dribble handoff from Galactus, and the defender gets wiped out on the exchange! That is the shot John the Baptist wants every trip down the floor, it drops nine nights out of ten, and tonight is the tenth.

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

That is vision. John the Baptist sees the pocket open for a tenth of a second and puts the ball in it. Stonewalled at the top of the square! The big man meets Scott Lang up there and returns it with interest.

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

POCKET PASS! Zeus threads it to John the Baptist between two bodies and the rim is wide open! A timeout is coming, because no defense recovers from watching John the Baptist do that to one of their own.

Five bodies moving as one, Galactus barking out every rotation, and there is not a crack anywhere in this thing. Somewhere there is a shift with the player written on it for tomorrow morning. Tonight he is out here erasing shots.

Turnover, layup, Denver Horse-Track straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

Somebody explain how the superhero reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. A probe, a plant of the outside foot, and John the Baptist pushes off while his man is still fighting to recover his balance. Rim, backboard, none of the above from the hermit! Ladies and gentlemen, that is a person with a real job, and we have all just been reminded of it.

Dagger from Denver Horse-Track. You could hear the air leave this arena on that one.

John the Baptist launches it weak side, one pass, and the whole shell has to sprint. Good luck with that. Watch the sell from Steve Smith here, he leans in, he gets the defender leaning with him, and then he backs away into all that space. Isolation on the wing, shot clock draining, and Steve Smith rocks the defender to sleep before dropping it through.

Zeus walks head down toward the tunnel. John the Baptist drags his feet behind, shoulders slumped. 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! Tonight I learned Zeus used to be a superhero before basketball. Found out during a timeout. Threw me off completely. And now, a brand new episode of 'Desperately Seeking My Cat.' Good night, everyone.

Matchday 11 — vs New York Over-Timers

81-125 (L)

Galactus controls the tip, and the offense gets to run its first set on schedule. Little edges like that stack up over forty-eight minutes.

Turnover, layup, New York Over-Timers straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

That is the pass that beats a zone, and Steve Smith threw it before the help even committed. A full spin move through traffic from the hermit! Whatever they teach in that trade, footwork is apparently part of it. The help defender had position, leverage, everything but a chance. John the Baptist rose straight over the top of him, and one.

Kisses the biceps, one and then the other, and John the Baptist strolls to the free throw line like a man on vacation. Steve Smith fans him with a rolled-up game program. The bench is in tears. Even the guy running the game clock is grinning into his monitor.

More second chance points for New York Over-Timers, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

Straight down the baseline goes the cricketer! Whatever shift he worked this morning, he clearly left plenty in the tank. Nobody touched him, nobody trapped him, and Steve Smith still coughed it up. Easiest whistle these officials will blow all night.

Back to the locker room. Zeus punches his locker. Anecdote: Zeus slipped on a banana peel during practice. The videos leaked. The internet never forgets. And now, our halftime TV game show Jeopar-Dee-Dee! To win a mounted singing bass that only knows half the song, text HOOPS to 555-0305 and answer this question: 'How much does a rumor weigh at sea level?' The players come back running. Did someone set the locker room on fire?

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

In a game this tight, John the Baptist cannot be giving away a free point over a call that was never coming back. Unforgivable.

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

The bench has completely lost its mind over the superhero! There are lifers in this league who never get a reaction like that. Nobody told the player that chasedown blocks are supposed to be above his pay grade.

SKIP PASS! John the Baptist fires it cross court to Scott Lang and the defense is dead in the water! OHHHH the pocket pass! Scott Lang splits the coverage and the roll man is loose under the basket! Pull-up from the elbow by Galactus, halfway down, spinning inside the iron, and it pops right back out.

That hesitation move is exactly why they keep sending a second body at Zeus the moment he crosses half court. That is a shot selection problem, plain and simple. Zeus drove into three bodies and the help defender was waiting the whole way.

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

Oh, John the Baptist wanted to be heard. Congratulations, he was heard. Free throw the other way. Composure is a skill, and John the Baptist just flunked the test at the worst imaginable moment for his team.

Follow the ball there: four sets of hands, Zeus makes the last read, and the defense never gets set. That is training camp offense. That is a dime from John the Baptist that deserved so much better, and Steve Smith knows it, head down, jogging back before the ball even lands.

First option: Scott Lang. Everything else on that clipboard is decoration. Sixty seconds in the huddle and John the Baptist cashes it without a single wasted dribble. Textbook.

Bent double with his hands on his knees, John the Baptist takes one breath, straightens up and points at the coach who drew the play in the huddle. The coach nods once, no smile. Steve Smith pounds the man's shoulder anyway. Respect, delivered at maximum volume.

Zeus slams his fist on the bench. John the Baptist places his palm flat, as if to calm the surface. And here is the answer to our game Jeopar-Dee-Dee! Ludene Crabtree of Dry Creek Junction, Oklahoma, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How much does a rumor weigh at sea level?' The answer was of course a pound and a half, considerably more in humid weather. Ludene takes home a mounted singing bass that only knows half the song! Confession: I bet against my favorite team tonight. Superstition. It works half the time. Good night everyone! And now, the show nobody asked for: 'Pigeon Hunters.'

Matchday 12 — vs Cleveland Twin-Towers

89-134 (L)

Cross court, on a rope, from the hermit. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. Pass, cut, catch, wide open. Four things in about a second and a half from Scott Lang. Catching it right at the cup with nobody within eight feet, Scott Lang goes up too strong and the ball rides high off the backboard.

Watch the change of pace from Zeus, half speed into full speed in one step, and that is a blow-by every time. This building is SHAKING. Zeus just stepped into a logo three like it was a warmup rep.

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.

Ball up the floor, change of speed right at the logo, and Zeus already has the defense a full step behind. Off the pin-down comes the cricketer with nobody inside a zip code. Somebody out there knows how to use a screen, and it is not who you would guess. In, around, and gone. The iron gives Steve Smith nothing.

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

Halftime whistle. Scott Lang has dried blood on his elbow but plays tough. Bus driver's confession: Scott Lang raps gibberish during road trips. Loudly. And now, our halftime TV game show Match Game Seventy-Eight and a Half! To win a hand-crank ice cream maker missing the crank, text HOOPS to 555-0413 and answer this question: 'What is the average lifespan of an ink pen at a bank?' There they are. The coach must have found the right words.

Set called, Galactus waved out to the corner, and Zeus watches the spacing open up like a front door. Working him at the top of the key, low dribble, low dribble, then Galactus rips it across and his man lunges at a ghost. Galactus blows the wide open layup!

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

Give and go! John the Baptist gives it up, cuts, and gets it right back with a clear lane to the cup! Nobody moved, nobody cut, nobody set a screen, so John the Baptist launches a contested jumper with the horn already going. Ugly offense.

The superhero just created his own space with a stepback. Somewhere a scout is spitting coffee all over his notepad. Up goes the shot from Zeus and that is nothing but AIR, and every soul in this building saw it happen.

Full-court pressure on the superhero, and the trade skills do not transfer one bit. Painful to watch.

More second chance points for Cleveland Twin-Towers, and our bench is up screaming for a timeout. Rightly so.

The superhero is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. No roll this time. John the Baptist swings it right back to Galactus above the break, and it is PURE. AIRBALL! Galactus missed the rim, the backboard and everything in between!

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

Zeus kicks it over to Scott Lang, no dribble, no drama, and this offense settles into a rhythm. Nobody is getting a hand near that. Scott Lang has all the room in the world. Not close, not warm, not anywhere for Scott Lang, straight into the hands of a defender who never had to leave his feet.

Nine seconds to work with, one play call, and it runs through Steve Smith. When the game shrinks like this, you go to your guy. John the Baptist delivers on the second option, Galactus buries it, and the coach is already walking back to the bench like he knew. He did know.

Zeus takes a sip of water and spits it right back out. John the Baptist doesn't drink. Throat too tight. And here is the answer to our game Match Game Seventy-Eight and a Half! Roscoe Tidwell of Frog Level, Alabama, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the average lifespan of an ink pen at a bank?' The answer was of course nine minutes, after which it goes home with a man named Gary. Roscoe takes home a hand-crank ice cream maker missing the crank! Tonight my colleague told me I smell like stress. I told him it was my cologne. That's all for today. Up next: 'Dateline: The True Cost of a Cup of Yogurt.' Deep investigation.

Matchday 13 — vs Boston Ring-Chasers

79-124 (L)

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

You want basketball IQ? Ask the cricketer, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. Ice in his veins for a guy who answers to superhero the rest of the week. Professional shot, amateur resume. The hermit launched one from the logo as the horn sounded. In fairness, nobody in that huddle gave him a better option.

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

The officials swallow a LOT of noise in this league, so understand exactly what it took for Zeus to get whistled up for that one. Two technicals and the superhero is out. Whatever happened at work today, he clearly brought every bit of it to the arena.

Count it and the foul. Brutal. Boston Ring-Chasers with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

Halftime! John the Baptist looks in the mirror and shakes his head. Anecdote: John the Baptist threw up before his first pro game. No more pre-game burgers ever since. And now, our halftime TV game show Who Wants to Be a Thousandaire! To win a commemorative spoon rest shaped like Ohio, text HOOPS to 555-0119 and answer this question: 'How many free throws would it take to fill a public swimming pool?' Resetting the counters for this second half. Well, not really.

REJECTED! Galactus gets ALL of that jumper and the building erupts! The player just threw an outlet that traveled farther than most people commute. Absurd. HAMMER! Zeus goes right through the trees and throws it DOWN with the foul!

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

The hermit makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. OHHHH the hesi! Zeus froze him solid and he is already gone! Textbook footwork, textbook release from Zeus, cruel result as it spins out and both teams go up for a contested board.

SKIP PASS! Steve Smith fires it cross court to Scott Lang and the defense is dead in the water! Look how low Scott Lang keeps that shoulder on the drive, that is how you turn a sliver of space into a walk to the rim. Rising up out of the corner, Scott Lang sends it LONG, clanging off the far side and out to the wing.

The superhero just ran that two-man game like he has a decade of film on it. Somebody get this man a contract. Whistle. Moving screen on Steve Smith, and that one was not even close. Ball goes the other way.

Scott Lang gets his, then has to stand and watch the other side's best player walk down and get his right back. Ruthless exchange.

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

Ball moves. Steve Smith to Scott Lang, on time and on target. Two defenders, one gap, and Scott Lang finds it. Onions on that pass. Buzzer on the shot clock, Galactus heaves it off one leg, and the ball comes up short of everything.

One little shoulder dip from Zeus and the guy guarding him turned into a traffic cone in real time. Somebody show the rest of the league what the superhero just did on that block. Footwork straight out of 1987!

Wiping imaginary dust off both shoulders, Zeus strolls back on defense at the speed of a man walking his dog. Steve Smith carries the bit further and mimes brushing off his shoes. The bench is on the floor. The head coach is not laughing, but only barely.

The hermit is parked under the rim while three grown men in stripes squint at a screen. Just another day at the office, apparently. Late by a blink. John the Baptist is going to see that frame in his sleep tonight.

Scott Lang collapses into the first available chair. Zeus stays standing, eyes glazed over. And here is the answer to our game Who Wants to Be a Thousandaire! Earlene Stubbs of Possum Notch, Tennessee, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many free throws would it take to fill a public swimming pool?' The answer was of course it depends entirely on whether the pool is paying attention. Earlene takes home a commemorative spoon rest shaped like Ohio! Tonight I nearly had a heart attack at least four times. And I'm just the commentator. Good evening! Coming up: 'Dancing with the Stars: My Cousin's Wedding Edition.' Open bar.

Matchday 14 — vs San Antonio Skyscrapers

77-122 (L)

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

Beautiful footwork on that one from Zeus, the pivot foot never budges, which is precisely why the whistle stays in the pocket. Fifth possession this half where Zeus has been left to bail everybody out with the clock at zero. He cannot keep doing this alone.

Over and back on the superhero, who just lost a possession to a painted line. No defender required.

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

That is the pass nobody puts on a highlight reel, and John the Baptist makes it every single trip down the floor. Screen, roll, DELIVERY from Scott Lang! Nothing but runway to the rim! The superhero had that thing halfway down and the rim spat it back out. Nobody ever warns you that the iron has a personality.

Cut! Halftime. John the Baptist's jersey is completely drenched in sweat. Juicy anecdote: John the Baptist was caught dancing the Macarena in the showers. Alone. And now, our halftime TV game show Minute to Win It Back! To win a lawn ornament goose with exactly one seasonal outfit, text HOOPS to 555-0319 and answer this question: 'What is the halftime score of a game that nobody is watching?' Back on the hardwood. The tension has gone up a notch.

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

Lazy one-hander from Steve Smith through the middle of the floor, and the defender did not even have to leave his feet to take it.

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.

Zeus rips it back into the stepback and suddenly there is a country mile between him and that defender. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! The superhero just drew a shooting foul with a veteran pump fake. Two free throws for somebody who clocks in at a real job tomorrow morning. Both knocked down without the slightest wobble. Free throws are just a shift on the clock, and the superhero punched in on time.

Zeus finds the courtside camera lens, leans all the way in and says absolutely nothing. Just breathes on it. Eight seconds of national television filled by one enormous face. Steve Smith photobombs with crossed eyes, and the clip runs on every highlight show by midnight.

Galactus goes fishing at the point of attack, the ball handler feels the hand on his elbow, and the arm goes straight up. There is no choice to make here. Four fouls with this much clock left means Galactus sits and the lead has to survive without him.

Over the top of everybody. Steve Smith to Zeus in the corner, wide open, catch and rise. Rough look for the superhero there. In his line of work you get to take that one back, out here it is two points going the other way.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the hermit, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. The player reads the screen perfectly, comes off shoulder to shoulder, and buys himself an open look. Veteran movement, rookie resume. The crowd has found its chant, and Galactus is going to be hearing it all night.

Ohhh no. Corner three, San Antonio Skyscrapers in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

OHHHH they are coming apart! Scott Lang again, and the defense has no idea where to turn! The opposing coach is off his seat waving both arms before the ball is even inbounded. Steve Smith forced that.

Watch how they bury Steve Smith in the corner on the inbound. Nothing happens until he moves, and by then the defense is beaten. Drawn up in the huddle, executed by the cricketer, who clocks in somewhere else on Monday morning. Perfect.

Nothing but a nod. Steve Smith jogs back on defense with his eyes half closed, like the shot was a formality he had penciled in. The entire arena is levitating and he could not look less involved. The San Antonio Skyscrapers bench looks personally insulted.

Zeus scratches the back of his neck nervously. John the Baptist has the look of someone who has seen things. And here is the answer to our game Minute to Win It Back! Otis Fenstermacher of Tin Roof, Virginia, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the halftime score of a game that nobody is watching?' The answer was of course still tied, philosophically speaking. Otis takes home a lawn ornament goose with exactly one seasonal outfit! Tonight I nearly had a heart attack at least four times. And I'm just the commentator. Thanks for being here. Coming up: 'Forbidden Zone: Behind the Scenes of a Vending Machine.'

Matchday 15 — vs Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest

90-135 (L)

Second pass beats the rotation, John the Baptist to Scott Lang, and the closeout gets there about half a second too late. The player tried the teardrop and never got it to the rim. Turns out soft touch does not come standard with that day job.

The hermit just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. 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 Zeus does. Zeus backs his man down, feels the contact, spins middle and drops it in over both hands. Fundamentals!

Zeus 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. Steve Smith grabs his shoulders from behind and shakes him like a snow globe. The floor is genuinely vibrating.

The ball travels faster than five defenders can, and Zeus has known that all night long. Oldest play in the book, and Steve Smith runs it in his sleep. That drop coverage never had a prayer. A cruel spin-out for the player, and whatever that day job is, tonight it came with a brand new way to break your heart.

Nobody boxed out. Tip in, Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest, and two of ours were standing right there watching it happen.

This is a game inside the game, and Steve Smith is holding up his end of it in style.

Intermission. Galactus dumps an entire water bottle over his head. Fun fact: Galactus tried to patent a celebration after a three-pointer. The application was rejected. And now, our halftime TV game show Family Feudal! To win a five-gallon bucket of assorted screws from a stranger's garage, text HOOPS to 555-0263 and answer this question: 'What color is a school bus at two in the morning?' There they are. The coach must have found the right words.

Turnover, layup, Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest straight through us in transition. Careless basketball.

Ball up the floor, change of speed right at the logo, and Zeus already has the defense a full step behind. Watch Zeus plant his feet, absorb the hit, and spring Scott Lang out of that corner in a blink. The player had that thing halfway down and the rim spat it back out. Nobody ever warns you that the iron has a personality.

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

That is a charge on John the Baptist, and you can hear the groan roll around every level of this building.

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.

Reverse it, make them slide all over again, that is how Zeus breaks a shell down. Here comes Galactus sprinting off the elbow. Scott Lang slides it into his pocket and that chase defender is buried. BANG is what Galactus was hearing in his head. Clang is what this building actually got.

The player walls up like a closed door and the shot never gets home. Nine to five, and now this. OHHHH the speed of Galactus! Nobody in this building was catching him.

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

Laser from Steve Smith, corner to corner, and that closeout gets there about a second and a half too late. OHHHH the hesi! John the Baptist froze him solid and he is already gone! Two points left on the floor by John the Baptist, and those are exactly the ones that come back to bite you in the fourth.

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

The superhero just threaded a pocket pass through two defenders. Where exactly did that vision come from? Long and gone. Galactus floats the teardrop over everything and bangs it off the back iron.

Scott Lang pushes away the reporter's microphone with a gesture. Galactus takes the interview and says 'not tonight'. And here is the answer to our game Family Feudal! Randy Dinkins of Sockburn, Ohio, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What color is a school bus at two in the morning?' The answer was of course still yellow, but it means something different. Randy takes home a five-gallon bucket of assorted screws from a stranger's garage! Yours truly survived this game without losing his voice. It was touch and go. Good evening! Now: 'Destination Unknown: The Roundabout in Scranton, PA.' Total adventure.