My dream starting five — basketball_team 🇺🇸

Matchday 1 — vs Detroit Engine-Roar

90-134 (L)

Small thing, a jump ball, but Nikocado Avocado winning that tip means we set the tone. Coaches script that first play for a reason.

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

The Buddha walks it up, two fingers in the air, and the whole offense shifts on his command. Down screen, and Neil deGrasse Tyson curls hard into the middle of the floor with a full step of daylight. Easy read. A cruel spin-out for the philosopher, and whatever that day job is, tonight it came with a brand new way to break your heart.

Nobody is touching the paint with the philosopher parked in the middle of it. That is a full time defender doing a part time job, or the other way around.

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

Break! Neil deGrasse Tyson rips his shoes off the second he reaches the locker room. Physio's confession: Neil deGrasse Tyson purrs when you massage his calves. Like a cat. A big cat. 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?' Back at it! The players jog toward center court.

Laser from Magic Johnson, corner to corner, and that closeout gets there about a second and a half too late. OHHHH he went BACKDOOR! Nikocado Avocado never broke stride and he has the ball UNDER THE RIM! Third one of these from Nikocado Avocado this quarter, third time the arc is wrong. The lane is not open real estate anymore.

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

The religious founder makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. Donald Trump Jr. sets the pick and DIVES to the cup. Magic Johnson lays it right on his hands in traffic! Rising into two defenders, Donald Trump Jr. launches a jumper that finds nothing but backboard and bad decisions.

The philosopher out here on the deck fighting for loose balls. Nobody pays him for that, and he could not care less. Neil deGrasse Tyson grabs it, turns, and slings a one-hander three quarters of the floor. Filthy. The religious founder just outran an entire defense for the finish, and he clocks in for a shift in the morning. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

The Buddha freezes in his follow-through, wrist still hanging, and holds it while the Detroit Engine-Roar coach burns a timeout out of pure desperation. He holds it through the whistle. He holds it into the huddle. The cameras eat every single second of it.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the religious founder, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. The television host just caught a lob at the top of the rim and hammered it! That is nowhere in the job description!

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

You can read it right off the scoreboard: not one point since the last stoppage, and Nikocado Avocado is pressing badly now. Horn goes, ball still in the hands of Neil deGrasse Tyson. Shot clock violation, and that possession never existed.

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

Left, right, gone. The Buddha put that defender on skates and never even looked back. Pull-up from the elbow by The Buddha, halfway down, spinning inside the iron, and it pops right back out.

The television host is running this zone like he has been drawing it up his entire life. Wrong career, my friend, absolutely the wrong career. Hands like that on the religious founder? Whatever he does all day, by night he is robbing people blind.

Nikocado Avocado claps his hands in frustration. Donald Trump Jr. Clenches his jaw so hard you can hear it from here. 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! Confession: I bet against my favorite team tonight. Superstition. It works half the time. We're packing up. Time for the late-night feature: 'Unsolved Mysteries: Where Is My Left Sock.'

Matchday 2 — vs Miami Heart-Attack

91-110 (L)

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

Magic Johnson flops. Nobody in stripes even turns around.

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

That is a clean blow-by on Neil deGrasse Tyson, and the help defense was nowhere in the same area code. The youtuber swatted that one off the glass and handed over two free points. Somebody go over the cylinder rule at the next staff meeting.

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

First half is done. The Buddha is chugging Gatorade like it's water. Did you know The Buddha once tried to start an ASMR podcast of sneaker squeaks on the hardwood? One episode. Deleted. And now, our halftime TV game show Blockbusters at the Laundromat! To win a mannequin torso wearing a borrowed letterman jacket, text HOOPS to 555-0388 and answer this question: 'What is the boiling point of a chili at a firehouse cook-off?' There they are. The coach must have found the right words.

Hesitate, GO. The Buddha is by that hip before the man even blinks. Catch on the block, shoulder into the chest, one dribble, and The Buddha finishes over the top. Textbook.

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

The philosopher puts a shoulder into the ball handler and pays for it. He spends all day being polite to strangers and now he is hacking people for a living.

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

Somebody explain how the religious founder reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. Off the pin-down comes the television host with nobody inside a zip code. Somebody out there knows how to use a screen, and it is not who you would guess. Gift wrapped by Magic Johnson, and Donald Trump Jr. cannot finish the two footer. That one is going to sting.

The whistle goes, the crew huddles at the monitor, and Donald Trump Jr. gets the thumb, flagrant two, straight to the locker room.

Cross court, on a rope, from the religious founder. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. The defender crowded the middle, and Magic Johnson punished him along the baseline like it was drawn up in the huddle. BAAAANG! Magic Johnson catches it and lets it FLY, nothing but net from the corner!

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

Beautiful pass by Neil deGrasse Tyson. Wrong jersey.

Neil deGrasse Tyson grabs him before the ball even crosses half court. Intentional, obvious, and completely necessary.

The Buddha shakes Donald Trump Jr.'s hand in silence. Not a word. Just a look that says it all. And here is the answer to our game Blockbusters at the Laundromat! Reba Mae Odom of Skillet Fork, California, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the boiling point of a chili at a firehouse cook-off?' The answer was of course slightly above the legal limit. Reba Mae takes home a mannequin torso wearing a borrowed letterman jacket! Tonight my colleague told me I smell like stress. I told him it was my cologne. See you at the next game. In the meantime: 'MasterClass: How to Fold a Fitted Sheet.' Gripping television.

Matchday 3 — vs Orlando Magic-Beans

90-105 (L)

Tip is UP and Donald Trump Jr. gets there first! We are underway and it is our ball.

Dagger from Orlando Magic-Beans. You could hear the air leave this arena on that one.

Textbook stuff: feet set, arms crossed, Donald Trump Jr. eats the contact and hands us a turnover.

Neil deGrasse Tyson kicks it over to Magic Johnson, no dribble, no drama, and this offense settles into a rhythm. OHHHH the pin-down! Magic Johnson pops out clean while the defender is STILL tangled up with The Buddha. Brutal. HAMMER! Magic Johnson goes right through the trees and throws it DOWN with the foul!

Somebody's towel goes up, then thirty of them, and the bench turns into a laundry emergency. Magic Johnson stands in the middle of it with his arms out, letting them rain down on his head. An assistant coach is spinning one like a helicopter. Institutional collapse.

Screen, hesitation, delivery, The Buddha drops it off perfectly for Neil deGrasse Tyson diving to the rim. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Two points in every gym in America except this one, and Neil deGrasse Tyson is walking back with both hands on his head.

Halftime whistle! Magic Johnson slides down against the hallway wall. Did you know? Magic Johnson launched a basketball podcast. Two episodes. Zero listeners. Still going. 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?' We're back! Flushed cheeks and hungry eyes on the players.

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

The philosopher makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. A cut with that timing from the religious founder? He is on the clock somewhere else all week and he still found time to learn the two-man game. Two on the shot clock and the ball ends up with the religious founder, which is how you get a twenty-eight footer off the wrong foot.

The religious founder just ran a give and go to perfection on national television! Somebody go tell his boss what he does after hours! Nobody drew up that arc. The religious founder floated one halfway to the rafters, and the rim never even got a say.

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

The Buddha feels the contact, spins off that shoulder, and the defender is left hugging a whole lot of nothing. Rip through, one dribble, contact. The Buddha plays that little game better than anybody on this floor. Two for two from the religious founder, calm as a Tuesday afternoon. Whatever that job involves all day, it clearly builds very steady hands.

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

OHHHH the separation! Neil deGrasse Tyson just manufactured three feet of daylight out of absolutely nothing. The philosopher launched one from the logo as the horn sounded. In fairness, nobody in that huddle gave him a better option.

Hard drive, hard stop, and Neil deGrasse Tyson retreats into an ocean of open hardwood. The philosopher had that thing halfway down and the rim spat it back out. Nobody ever warns you that the iron has a personality.

Punish the help, that is the rule, and The Buddha just did it by hitting Nikocado Avocado on the back side with acres of room. Rough look for the youtuber there. In his line of work you get to take that one back, out here it is two points going the other way.

Magic Johnson slams his fist on the bench. Neil deGrasse Tyson places his palm flat, as if to calm the surface. 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! During the game, my colleague ordered sushi. It arrived at the final buzzer. Perfect timing. Thanks for being here. Now put down the remote, it's time for 'Wheel of Misfortune.'

Matchday 4 — vs Philadelphia Injury-Report

78-122 (L)

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

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

Not an inch to spare on the endline, but Magic Johnson keeps both feet in bounds and the help gets there a beat too late. No good. Magic Johnson rushed that one.

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

TECHNICAL on Neil deGrasse Tyson! He found the one word you cannot say out here.

That's a wrap for now. Nikocado Avocado dives into the tunnel. Anecdote: Nikocado Avocado once wore his jersey inside out for the entire first quarter. Nobody dared say anything. 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?' We pick up right where we left off. Time to play.

Eight seconds off the shot clock and The Buddha has not wasted one of them, the ball reaching Magic Johnson precisely where the play wanted it. Nobody is getting a hand near that. Magic Johnson has all the room in the world. Textbook footwork, textbook release from Magic Johnson, cruel result as it spins out and both teams go up for a contested board.

Neil deGrasse Tyson rips it back into the stepback and suddenly there is a country mile between him and that defender. Neil deGrasse Tyson drives the lane, wears a forearm across the chest, and still finishes it with the off hand. Count it AND the foul!

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

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

That is the pass nobody puts on a highlight reel, and Magic Johnson makes it every single trip down the floor. Dribble alive, patient, patient, and then The Buddha slips it to Nikocado Avocado right in the pocket. Surgical. Two on the shot clock and the ball ends up with the youtuber, which is how you get a twenty-eight footer off the wrong foot.

Cold blooded from Philadelphia Injury-Report, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

Iso for the religious founder, and after the shift that man put in today, the defender is the one I feel sorry for. Wasted possession from The Buddha. Charge, dead ball, and the other team walks its offense right back up the floor with a free one.

Clean feed from The Buddha, nothing forced, just the offense breathing. Watch the sell from Nikocado Avocado here, he leans in, he gets the defender leaning with him, and then he backs away into all that space. Nobody expects touch like that from the youtuber, but that floater had more feel than half the starting guards in the league.

Nikocado Avocado 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. Magic Johnson grabs his shoulders from behind and shakes him like a snow globe. The floor is genuinely vibrating.

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

STOP AND GO! The Buddha hit the brakes, hit the gas, and the lane opened up like a garage door. BRICK! The Buddha throws up a prayer and the iron sends it straight back out to half court!

You do not need a scholarship to figure that one out. The religious founder just stopped the clock the way people have been stopping clocks in gyms for sixty years.

Donald Trump Jr. Walks like someone carrying the weight of the world. Nikocado Avocado drags one foot after the other. 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! I learned tonight that Donald Trump Jr. Used to be a religious founder. That explains the unique running style. Good evening! Now: 'Destination Unknown: The Roundabout in Scranton, PA.' Total adventure.

Matchday 5 — vs Phoenix No-Defense

87-132 (L)

The religious founder just froze a grown professional with a hesitation dribble. This man punches a clock and he is out here doing THAT. Rim out for The Buddha, the crowd came up and sat right back down, and you can hear the groan from every corner of the arena.

The religious founder is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. The youtuber just created his own space with a stepback. Somewhere a scout is spitting coffee all over his notepad. The youtuber had that thing halfway down and the rim spat it back out. Nobody ever warns you that the iron has a personality.

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

Right on time, not a half step late. Magic Johnson makes that ball handler pull it back out with absolutely nothing to show for it. No block, no foul, just Magic Johnson being ENORMOUS in the lane, and that shot never had a chance.

Ball up the floor, change of speed right at the logo, and The Buddha already has the defense a full step behind. A cut with that timing from the youtuber? He is on the clock somewhere else all week and he still found time to learn the two-man game. OHHHH, that one died in the air! Nikocado Avocado put nothing into it and the front rim eats the floater.

Heading in. Magic Johnson's eyes are bloodshot from sheer effort. Rumor has it Magic Johnson talks to his basketball in the locker room. Nobody dares say it's weird. And now, our halftime TV game show The Weakest Rebound! To win a first place pepper jelly ribbon from the 1996 state fair, text HOOPS to 555-1327 and answer this question: 'What is the official color of the squeak sneaker makes on a wet floor?' The show goes on. Players take position. Silence. Whistle.

Count it and the foul. Brutal. Phoenix No-Defense with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

Magic Johnson guesses left, the ball handler goes right, and suddenly this is a two-on-one before anybody can rotate.

Swing, swing, and The Buddha finds Neil deGrasse Tyson on the wing before the help can even turn its head. OHHHHH HE SNATCHED HIS ANKLES! Neil deGrasse Tyson left him on the hardwood and this building is SHAKING! Off the back iron for Neil deGrasse Tyson, that one had all the distance and none of the accuracy, and the board goes the other way.

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

That is vision. Neil deGrasse Tyson sees the pocket open for a tenth of a second and puts the ball in it. Put him on skates, then put him on a POSTER. Magic Johnson owns the highlight reel tonight.

Chest bump so violent that Magic Johnson and Nikocado Avocado both end up on the hardwood. They lie there laughing while play is stopped. A trainer jogs out to make sure nobody cracked a rib. The crowd is chanting before either man gets back to his feet.

Set called, Donald Trump Jr. waved out to the corner, and The Buddha watches the spacing open up like a front door. Lazy one-hander from Donald Trump Jr. through the middle of the floor, and the defender did not even have to leave his feet to take it.

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

Nikocado Avocado did that, and now the loudest twelve people in this arena are all wearing the same uniform he is. Verticality, timing, discipline: The Buddha never bites on the pump fake and still finds a way to erase the shot.

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

A probe, a plant of the outside foot, and The Buddha pushes off while his man is still fighting to recover his balance. Donald Trump Jr. threads a BEAUTY to The Buddha under the rim and... he lays it off the bottom of the iron! Ohhhh, no. You want to know why this team keeps winning the possession battle? The Buddha treats every miss like it belongs to him. OHHHH he went and GOT that! The Buddha with the putback jam over two bodies.

Donald Trump Jr. Mutters while walking out. Nikocado Avocado watches from the corner of his eye, worried. And here is the answer to our game show The Weakest Rebound! Earlene Tidwell of Gizzard Ridge, Tennessee, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'What is the official color of the squeak sneaker makes on a wet floor?' The answer was of course a light mustard yellow, per the county Department of Squeaks. Earlene therefore wins a first place pepper jelly ribbon from the 1996 state fair! My chair squeaked the entire game. Everyone thinks it was me. It was not me. We're packing up. Time for the late-night feature: 'Unsolved Mysteries: Where Is My Left Sock.'

Matchday 6 — vs Los Angeles Nursing-Home

96-99 (L)

Ball moves. Magic Johnson to Neil deGrasse Tyson, on time and on target. Filthy. Absolutely filthy from Neil deGrasse Tyson, and the defender knows exactly what just happened to him. Wide open at the top of the key and Neil deGrasse Tyson cannot make it count, the defense secures the board and takes off in transition.

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

Beautiful footwork on that one from The Buddha, the pivot foot never budges, which is precisely why the whistle stays in the pocket. The religious founder just had his shot delivered into the courtside seats. Tough scene, but at least the day job is safe.

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

Reverse it, make them slide all over again, that is how Neil deGrasse Tyson breaks a shell down. The youtuber reads the screen perfectly, comes off shoulder to shoulder, and buys himself an open look. Veteran movement, rookie resume. Rim, backboard, none of the above from the youtuber! Ladies and gentlemen, that is a person with a real job, and we have all just been reminded of it.

Break. The coach is yelling in the tunnel, The Buddha picks up the pace. Bus driver's confession: The Buddha raps gibberish during road trips. Loudly. And now, our halftime TV game show Last Call Bingo! To win a lifetime pass to a museum of regional soil, text HOOPS to 555-0150 and answer this question: 'How many people does it take to change a light bulb in a scoreboard?' The locker room empties, the court fills up. Act 2.

Screen, pop, SPLASH! The Buddha kicks it out and that thing never touched iron. In, around, and gone. The iron gives Magic Johnson nothing. The youtuber outworked everybody on the glass! Effort does not care what is printed on your business card. The whole possession dies right there without Nikocado Avocado on the offensive glass, and instead it becomes the two easiest points of the quarter.

Nikocado Avocado 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. Neil deGrasse Tyson refuses to touch him. This building has never been happier about anything.

The religious founder is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. That crossover was not about getting a shot up. Magic Johnson pulled it out to tell everybody in the gym whose possession this is. Fifth possession this half where Magic Johnson has been left to bail everybody out with the clock at zero. He cannot keep doing this alone.

Whirl, and GONE! Neil deGrasse Tyson leaves the defender grabbing at a jersey that stopped being there half a second ago. Wrapped up the arm on the gather, plain as day. Neil deGrasse Tyson gets two, and the bench is already standing. This is exactly why the coach wants the ball in his hands late. Neil deGrasse Tyson has been money at that line all season long.

Right hand to the mouthguard, out, pointed at the rafters, back in. Neil deGrasse Tyson 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.

Handoff, turn the corner, BUCKET! The Buddha did all the dirty work on that one. The ball skips around the perimeter, Neil deGrasse Tyson finds the open man on the weak side, and Nikocado Avocado buries it.

Nikocado Avocado 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.

The religious founder pops to the arc and buries it, and nobody in this building believes that man clocks in somewhere in the morning. Neil deGrasse Tyson had that one all the way, perfect release, perfect arc, and the rim simply refuses to let it drop.

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

The philosopher just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. Everybody in the arena knew the stepback was coming from Nikocado Avocado, and not one single soul could do anything about it. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! That was IN for Nikocado Avocado!

This is the entire night compressed into eight seconds, and the ball never leaves the hands of The Buddha. Exactly the way he wanted it. The horn goes off while the ball is still spinning on the iron, and The Buddha watches it drop away. Brutal, absolutely brutal.

Nikocado Avocado hurls his mouthguard into the trash. Neil deGrasse Tyson keeps his in, chewing on the frustration. And here is the answer to our game Last Call Bingo! Leon Poteet of Fence Post, Hawaii, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many people does it take to change a light bulb in a scoreboard?' The answer was of course four, plus one man who insists he could have done it alone. Leon takes home a lifetime pass to a museum of regional soil! During halftime, I tried to interview the mascot. It ignored me. I'll recover eventually. Off to bed! And now: 'Jeopardy: Cafeteria Trivia Edition.'

Matchday 7 — vs Toronto Border-Patrol

79-124 (L)

Magic Johnson gets it on the reversal and now this defense is rotating, scrambling and losing ground, all because Neil deGrasse Tyson saw it a beat early. Right idea, no zip on it, and at this level Magic Johnson either puts some heat on that ball or he keeps it in his hands.

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

Magic Johnson hands it off to Nikocado Avocado, slices through the seam, and the return pass is sitting there waiting at the rim. Magic Johnson probes the lane, cups the ball with two hands, then bounces it again. That is the violation they fix in third grade.

Screen, roll, DELIVERY from The Buddha! Nothing but runway to the rim! Perfect drop-off from Neil deGrasse Tyson, and Magic Johnson answers with... whatever that was. Off the glass, off the rim, and gone.

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

Halftime! Magic Johnson walks barefoot on the cold tunnel tiles. Bus driver's confession: Magic Johnson raps gibberish during road trips. Loudly. 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?' The arena lights up, the players are back. Game on.

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

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.

Full stop, full sprint, and the philosopher is in the paint! Nobody back at the workplace is going to believe this one. Into traffic goes Neil deGrasse Tyson, he gets clubbed, he scores anyway, and the free throw is PURE. Three the hard way.

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

The religious founder makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. This is the counter: Magic Johnson 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, Donald Trump Jr. fades away from twenty-six feet, and it is not close.

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

The philosopher turns clean out of two bodies in the paint. That is nowhere in the job description and yet here we are. From WAY downtown! Neil deGrasse Tyson launched that one from the parking lot!

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

A full spin move through traffic from the religious founder! Whatever they teach in that trade, footwork is apparently part of it. The Buddha gets both toes behind the line and the contest arrives through his forearm. Here comes the gift.

No hero ball here: Neil deGrasse Tyson takes what the defense gives and moves it along. Textbook two-man game: The Buddha keeps the dribble alive, forces the big man to commit, and Neil deGrasse Tyson rolls into an open runway. Down, up, and gone for Neil deGrasse Tyson. The rim is just toying with him now.

Whistle! Donald Trump Jr. gets him on the arm. Personal foul, nothing clever about it. That is number THREE on Donald Trump Jr., and we have not even reached the half.

Magic Johnson replays the score in his head on a loop. Neil deGrasse Tyson tries to think about something else. 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 chewed through two pens. The office supply budget is going to explode. Thanks for being here. Now put down the remote, it's time for 'Wheel of Misfortune.'

Matchday 8 — vs Minnesota Ice-Wall

83-122 (L)

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

Watch the spacing there, The Buddha hits Donald Trump Jr. right in the shooting pocket and the possession stays alive. Nikocado Avocado eats the contact so Donald Trump Jr. can run free along the baseline, and the catch-and-shoot look is right there. Not close, not warm, not anywhere for Donald Trump Jr., straight into the hands of a defender who never had to leave his feet.

Reverse it, make them slide all over again, that is how Magic Johnson breaks a shell down. GONE down the baseline! Neil deGrasse Tyson beat him on the first step and the paint is collapsing. The philosopher just put somebody on a POSTER! That defender is going to see this clip for the rest of his life!

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

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

The extra pass! The Buddha had the look, gave it up anyway, and Magic Johnson buries it. BANG! Twenty-four seconds of standing around, and Magic Johnson has to eat the last two of them. Possession wasted long before the shot went up.

Break. Magic Johnson collapses next to the vending machine. Confession: Magic Johnson tried yoga. Lasted two sessions before declaring it a combat sport. And now, our halftime TV game show Blockbusters the Video Store One! To win a garden gnome missing both arms, text HOOPS to 555-0712 and answer this question: 'Which is louder, an air horn or a grandmother who disagrees with a call?' Jump ball to restart. Let the second half begin!

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

Magic Johnson launches it weak side, one pass, and the whole shell has to sprint. Good luck with that. The help defender committed way too early, and Donald Trump Jr. made him pay for it with a spin they will be replaying all week. The crowd has found its chant, and Donald Trump Jr. is going to be hearing it all night.

Ohhh no. Corner three, Minnesota Ice-Wall in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

OHHHH the help side! Magic Johnson comes flying out of nowhere and that drive is DEAD on arrival! This is the work that never shows up in a box score, and Magic Johnson just took two points off the board without a single stat.

Here is the part that never makes the highlight package: The Buddha controlling tempo, burning clock, hunting the mismatch the second one shows up. Magic Johnson comes flying off that screen and he is WIDE open! Magic Johnson blows the wide open layup!

The other bench sent their best perimeter stopper out on The Buddha, and they are learning in real time that it will not be enough tonight. OHHHH, the cylinder rejects the religious founder! Somewhere a whole workplace just yelled at a television.

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

Neil deGrasse Tyson kicks it over to Donald Trump Jr., no dribble, no drama, and this offense settles into a rhythm. Donald Trump Jr. stutters at the elbow, the defender bites on it, and now there is nothing but open floor between him and the rim. That is the shot Donald Trump Jr. wants every trip down the floor, it drops nine nights out of ten, and tonight is the tenth.

OHHHH the hesi! The Buddha froze him solid and he is already gone! Nasty finish. The Buddha hangs, adjusts in midair, and drops it through.

The Buddha 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.

The crew chief has the headset on, three angles on the screen, everybody in here staring at Nikocado Avocado. The youtuber is finding out what this league does to people. It hands you the moment, then it rolls the tape.

The Buddha kicks his towel across the floor. Nikocado Avocado has already left for the locker room, alone. And here is the answer to our game show Blockbusters the Video Store One! Travis Wayne Trundle of Hardtack, Indiana, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'Which is louder, an air horn or a grandmother who disagrees with a call?' The answer was of course the grandmother, by a margin researchers declined to publish. Travis Wayne therefore wins a garden gnome missing both arms! Your favorite commentator survived. It's not much, but it's honest work. Sleep tight! Coming up: 'Forensic Files: Who Finished the Milk Without Telling Anyone.'

Matchday 9 — vs Houston Blast-Off

91-126 (L)

Houston Blast-Off again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

SKIP PASS! The Buddha fires it cross court to Donald Trump Jr. and the defense is dead in the water! From WAY downtown off the pop! Donald Trump Jr. with the extra pass and CASH. Ball into The Buddha at the elbow, Neil deGrasse Tyson plants his foot and goes backdoor, and the pass meets him in the air. Filthy. The defender fronted him, so Neil deGrasse Tyson sealed, waited for the entry and went to work. Patient, mean, effective.

Full stop, full sprint, and the philosopher is in the paint! Nobody back at the workplace is going to believe this one. Rises, releases, and Neil deGrasse Tyson sends the ball through the exact patch of sky where the rim is not.

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

Total control. The Buddha has this thing on a string. Donald Trump Jr. crosses, crosses back, the defender slides half a step the wrong way and the whole arena lets out the same OHHHH. Two points left on the floor by Donald Trump Jr., and those are exactly the ones that come back to bite you in the fourth.

Break! Magic Johnson takes his jersey off before even reaching the locker room. Intel: Magic Johnson once called an imaginary timeout in the middle of a game. The ref actually hesitated. 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?' We're back! The players look fired up.

The religious founder is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Neil deGrasse Tyson whips that pass one-handed on the move and the roll man gathers it through contact. Filthy. The television host 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.

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

The religious founder reads the screen perfectly, comes off shoulder to shoulder, and buys himself an open look. Veteran movement, rookie resume. No touch. The Buddha left the soft hands in the locker room tonight.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! The Buddha spun out of a double team like it was a revolving door! Two on the shot clock and the ball ends up with the religious founder, which is how you get a twenty-eight footer off the wrong foot.

Over the top of everybody. Neil deGrasse Tyson to Magic Johnson in the corner, wide open, catch and rise. Baseline spin from Magic Johnson at full speed, and his man never even gets a hand into the picture. Filthy stuff. Oh my. Magic Johnson did not even draw iron.

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

Whistle! The Buddha got hacked on the way up. Two shots coming. The crowd has already started the chant, and The Buddha can hear every syllable. There is no hiding at that line.

Nobody on earth enjoys taking a charge, which is exactly why Magic Johnson keeps doing it and keeps swinging games.

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

That is the pass that beats a zone, and The Buddha threw it before the help even committed. Off the pin-down comes the philosopher with nobody inside a zip code. Somebody out there knows how to use a screen, and it is not who you would guess. Drop step, jump hook, bucket! Neil deGrasse Tyson is doing it the old way.

Nothing but a nod. Neil deGrasse Tyson 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 Houston Blast-Off bench looks personally insulted.

Magic Johnson lets out a big exhale walking through the door. Neil deGrasse Tyson holds his in. 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! My evening? A microphone, cold coffee, and the greatest show on earth. What more could you ask for. Good evening! Up next: 'Fixer Upper: Renovating a Studio on a Twelve-Dollar Budget.' Challenge accepted.

Matchday 10 — vs Denver Horse-Track

82-126 (L)

No hero ball here: The Buddha takes what the defense gives and moves it along. Second pass beats the rotation, Magic Johnson to The Buddha, and the closeout gets there about half a second too late. Soft off the fingertips, the ball takes a full lap of the rim on The Buddha, and spits straight back out. That is theft.

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

A philosopher breaking down a professional defender in front of a sold out house! Remember that day job, folks! Every highlight show in the country runs that clip tonight, and unfortunately for Neil deGrasse Tyson he is on the wrong end of it.

The religious founder just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. Two defenders collide on the handoff and Donald Trump Jr. is gone, so Neil deGrasse Tyson earned that one even if the box score disagrees. Donald Trump Jr. rises up from fifteen feet and OHHHH, that rattled in and OUT!

That is the pass nobody puts on a highlight reel, and Neil deGrasse Tyson makes it every single trip down the floor. Nobody dribbled, nobody isolated, Magic Johnson and Neil deGrasse Tyson just played basketball and the defense got shredded. Nobody moved, nobody cut, nobody set a screen, so Magic Johnson launches a contested jumper with the horn already going. Ugly offense.

Break time. Donald Trump Jr. Bolts to the locker room without looking at anyone. Small detail: Donald Trump Jr. Whistles the national anthem before every game. Off-key. Consistently off-key. And now, our halftime TV game show Win, Lose, or Shrug! To win a giant novelty check made out for two dollars, text HOOPS to 555-0075 and answer this question: 'How many pieces are missing from a jigsaw puzzle at a lake house?' Alright, it's time. The second half waits for no one.

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

The ball travels faster than five defenders can, and Magic Johnson has known that all night long. That is the third live-ball giveaway of the half, and each one has been the same read: Donald Trump Jr. deciding late and throwing early.

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

Cross court, on a rope, from the philosopher. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. 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 Jr. does. Prayer from Donald Trump Jr.. Not answered.

SKIP PASS! The Buddha fires it cross court to Nikocado Avocado and the defense is dead in the water! Read, screen, delivery, right on the money. A youtuber making the right pass every single time, and the league is taking notes. Missed layup for the television host and the whole arena groans as one. Great hands in the day job, apparently they do not travel.

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

Somebody explain how the religious founder reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. Watch the spacing, Donald Trump Jr. drags two bodies toward the ball and Neil deGrasse Tyson is standing alone behind the line. Geometry, not luck. Zero hesitation, zero conscience. Neil deGrasse Tyson made that closeout look completely pointless.

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

A cut with that timing from the religious founder? He is on the clock somewhere else all week and he still found time to learn the two-man game. That is the shot chart lying to you. The Buddha did everything right on this possession and has zero points to show for it.

HERE IT COMES! Every soul in this gym knows the ball is going to Nikocado Avocado, and it may not matter one bit. Drawn up in the huddle, executed by the philosopher, who clocks in somewhere else on Monday morning. Perfect.

Neil deGrasse Tyson 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. Nikocado Avocado refuses to touch him. This building has never been happier about anything.

The Buddha pushes away the reporter's microphone with a gesture. Nikocado Avocado takes the interview and says 'not tonight'. And here is the answer to our game Win, Lose, or Shrug! Maxine Skaggs of Bitter Root Draw, New Jersey, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many pieces are missing from a jigsaw puzzle at a lake house?' The answer was of course two, always the same two, and one of them is sky. Maxine takes home a giant novelty check made out for two dollars! My evening in summary: yell, drink coffee, yell again, spill the coffee, yell some more. Thanks for being here. Coming up: 'Forbidden Zone: Behind the Scenes of a Vending Machine.'

Matchday 11 — vs New York Over-Timers

75-120 (L)

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

Across half court, a quick survey, a point to the weak side, and The Buddha drops it off to Donald Trump Jr. on time and on target. Here comes the slip from Nikocado Avocado, and Donald Trump Jr. reads it a half second before anybody else in the building. It went halfway down! The ball sat in the cylinder, thought about it, and rolled off the far side on Nikocado Avocado. Cruel.

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

OHHHH the pocket pass! The Buddha splits the coverage and the roll man is loose under the basket! Donald Trump Jr. wanted the contact so badly that he forgot the small detail where your feet have to be planted.

That is the pass that beats a zone, and Magic Johnson threw it before the help even committed. The religious founder runs a dribble handoff with the timing of a fifteen-year vet. Not bad for somebody who does this on weekends. The whistle blows, the crowd erupts, and Donald Trump Jr. hangs on the iron just long enough to make his point.

Right hand to the mouthguard, out, pointed at the rafters, back in. Donald Trump Jr. 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.

Buzzer sounds, halftime! Nikocado Avocado walks head down toward the tunnel. True story: Nikocado Avocado walked into the wrong locker room during his first game against New York Over-Timers. Awkward. And now, our halftime TV game show Backyard Survivor: Aisle Nine! To win a riding mower that will only turn left, text HOOPS to 555-0384 and answer this question: 'How many raccoons live at an average county fairgrounds?' The players emerge from the tunnel. Stern faces, clenched fists.

You do not put the other team in the bonus this early. Neil deGrasse Tyson has to be smarter than contact that never had a chance at the ball.

This is the work that never shows up on a stat sheet, Neil deGrasse Tyson gets the credit and the guy setting the screen gets the bruise. The big man never even contested it, and Neil deGrasse Tyson still could not get the runner to drop. That one is on him.

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

Shot clock bleeding down to nine, Neil deGrasse Tyson still rocking the ball, taking his sweet time. Ice in his veins. BAAAANG! Neil deGrasse Tyson drills the three AND gets hammered! The four point play is ON.

Right hand to the mouthguard, out, pointed at the rafters, back in. Neil deGrasse Tyson 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.

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

POCKET PASS! Magic Johnson threads it to The Buddha between two bodies and the rim is wide open! AROUND the cylinder and OUT! The Buddha cannot believe it, and neither can this building.

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

OHHHH, what a read by Magic Johnson! He never even glanced at the rim and it is CASH on the other end. Watch the feet on Donald Trump Jr. there, still drifting sideways at the release, and that is exactly why the floater sails wide left of everything.

The defender planted his feet, and Neil deGrasse Tyson said thank you very much and drove straight through his front pocket. Neil deGrasse Tyson rises, the big man rises higher, and the shot is stuffed into the second row. Return to sender.

Foul to give, and Donald Trump Jr. gives it. Clock stops.

The Buddha punches his locker when he gets to the locker room. Nikocado Avocado slides down the wall to the floor. And here is the answer to our game Backyard Survivor: Aisle Nine! Roberta Klump of Pumpkin Center, Utah, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many raccoons live at an average county fairgrounds?' The answer was of course six during the day and considerably more after dark. Roberta takes home a riding mower that will only turn left! I learned tonight that The Buddha used to be a religious founder. That explains the unique running style. That's a wrap! Coming up: 'What Would You Do: People Who Say Hello in the Elevator.' Exposing the truth.

Matchday 12 — vs Cleveland Twin-Towers

88-104 (L)

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

Push the pace! The Buddha grabs it and hits Magic Johnson in stride before the defense can even match up. Two guys on the exact same page, Magic Johnson and Donald Trump Jr., and the defense is left holding a bag of nothing. In, around, and gone. The iron gives Magic Johnson nothing.

SKIP PASS! Neil deGrasse Tyson fires it cross court to Donald Trump Jr. and the defense is dead in the water! Enough room out there to set up a lawn chair, and the television host made it himself. Total professional, in a completely unrelated profession. So close. Donald Trump Jr. can only stare at the iron.

A single dribble is all Magic Johnson needed to get downhill, and the back side of that defense is in complete disarray. REJECTED! Magic Johnson takes it in and gets it sent straight back into his own chest.

That is the pass that beats a zone, and Magic Johnson threw it before the help even committed. Watch Donald Trump Jr. plant his feet, absorb the hit, and spring The Buddha out of that corner in a blink. Not a hand on him. The Buddha flat missed the bunny.

Both teams head to the locker room. Donald Trump Jr. Wipes his forehead with his jersey. Rumor has it Donald Trump Jr. Has been wearing the same lucky underwear for three seasons. The medical staff is concerned. 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?' Back at it! The coach said two words. Two words that were enough.

Bucket for Cleveland Twin-Towers. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

Set called, Magic Johnson waved out to the corner, and The Buddha watches the spacing open up like a front door. Screened, toasted, done. Magic Johnson is loose and the defense is scrambling to find him. From eight feet Magic Johnson puts way too much on it, and the ball clears the rim entirely.

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

The Buddha walks it up, two fingers in the air, and the whole offense shifts on his command. That hesitation move is exactly why they keep sending a second body at Magic Johnson the moment he crosses half court. Magic Johnson had that one all the way, perfect release, perfect arc, and the rim simply refuses to let it drop.

Reach-in on Magic Johnson. He wanted the steal, he bought a foul. Brutal timing on that whistle. This team loses its rim protection the moment Magic Johnson takes a seat, and the paint is wide open now.

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

Off the pin-down comes the religious founder with nobody inside a zip code. Somebody out there knows how to use a screen, and it is not who you would guess. Two defenders in the lane, The Buddha splits them, double clutches and kisses it off the square. Count it!

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

Look at the shoulders on the religious founder. Everybody has a rough shift at work, but most people do not have twenty thousand witnesses. Twenty-four seconds, zero shots. Donald Trump Jr. holds it, the buzzer sounds, and we give it back without ever testing the rim.

Watch how they bury Donald Trump Jr. in the corner on the inbound. Nothing happens until he moves, and by then the defense is beaten. BANG! Exactly the play on the clipboard: Magic Johnson to Nikocado Avocado, catch and rise.

Nikocado Avocado rocks an imaginary baby down the sideline, cradling nothing at all and completely serious about it. Neil deGrasse Tyson plays along, tiptoeing beside him and shushing the front row. Half the arena is doing it too. The other half is filming the half that is doing it.

The Buddha pushes away the reporter's microphone with a gesture. Donald Trump Jr. Takes the interview and says 'not tonight'. 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! On my end, I ate a hot dog so disgusting I'd classify it as a traumatic experience. That was beautiful. And now: 'House Hunters International: 90-Square-Foot Studio, Wall View.' A steal.

Matchday 13 — vs Boston Ring-Chasers

88-133 (L)

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

Cross court, on a rope, from the philosopher. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. Neil deGrasse Tyson just took a shoulder to the chest to buy Magic Johnson half a second, and half a second in this league is an eternity. Follow the ball there: four sets of hands, Magic Johnson makes the last read, and the defense never gets set. That is training camp offense. The television host just fired one in from the logo and the roof nearly came off this place. That is in nobody's job description.

Golf swing follow-through, perfect form, Donald Trump Jr. Tracks the imaginary ball into the upper deck with a hand shading his eyes. Somebody in the front row yells about a hole in one. The referee has now warned this team twice and been ignored twice.

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

Third straight empty trip for the other guys, third straight bucket involving Magic Johnson. That is exactly how a 10-0 stretch gets built.

Worst possession of the night for the other team, and Magic Johnson just turned it into three points at the stripe. Free of charge.

End of the first half. The Buddha is beet red but still standing. Little secret: The Buddha listens to Celine Dion to focus. I repeat, Celine Dion. And now, our halftime TV game show Guy Reads a Manual! To win a family-size tub of margarine autographed by a stranger, text HOOPS to 555-0345 and answer this question: 'How many people can hear a vending machine at three in the morning?' Back in action! The coach got the message across.

A full spin move through traffic from the religious founder! Whatever they teach in that trade, footwork is apparently part of it. Baby hook by The Buddha, right over that outstretched hand, high off the board, count it.

Wiping imaginary dust off both shoulders, The Buddha strolls back on defense at the speed of a man walking his dog. Magic Johnson 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.

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

Oh, The Buddha wanted to be heard. Congratulations, he was heard. Free throw the other way. The Buddha would not let it go. He already had one, he knew the rule, and he kept talking anyway.

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

He tried to rise over Nikocado Avocado. That was a mistake, and the ball is now several rows deep.

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

The religious founder just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. You could hear the whole building groan, and Donald Trump Jr. knew it the second the ball left his fingers, already jogging back on defense.

Working him at the top of the key, low dribble, low dribble, then The Buddha rips it across and his man lunges at a ghost. TRAVEL! The Buddha took the scenic route to the rim and the whistle ended the tour.

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

Two alpha scorers refusing to look away from each other, and Neil deGrasse Tyson is the reason this game has stayed at this altitude all night.

Magic Johnson clenches his left fist, unclenches, clenches again. The Buddha fidgets with his wristband nervously. And here is the answer to our game Guy Reads a Manual! Doris Ann Hoke of Butter Churn, New Hampshire, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many people can hear a vending machine at three in the morning?' The answer was of course everybody in the building, including the ones pretending to sleep. Doris Ann takes home a family-size tub of margarine autographed by a stranger! I discovered tonight that my mic was off for three minutes. Three minutes of pure genius, lost forever. Thanks everyone! And now: 'Keeping Up with the Kardashians: Season 312.' They will never stop.

Matchday 14 — vs San Antonio Skyscrapers

84-128 (L)

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

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

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

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

The religious founder 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. OFFENSIVE GLASS! Nikocado Avocado beats three men to the spot! That is pure want-to: Nikocado Avocado was the only man on the floor who decided that rebound belonged to him.

Break. Nikocado Avocado asks the medical staff for coffee. Request denied. Confession: Nikocado Avocado tried yoga. Lasted two sessions before declaring it a combat sport. And now, our halftime TV game show The Dating Game of Horseshoes! To win a cast-iron skillet seasoned by four generations of strangers, text HOOPS to 555-0313 and answer this question: 'What is the world record for longest halftime shot made by a man holding a soft drink?' And we're off! The energy in the arena just went up a notch.

In a game this tight, Magic Johnson cannot be giving away a free point over a call that was never coming back. Unforgivable. There it is! Second technical on Magic Johnson, automatic ejection, his night is OVER.

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

A full spin move through traffic from the religious founder! Whatever they teach in that trade, footwork is apparently part of it. OHHHH, the cylinder rejects the religious founder! Somewhere a whole workplace just yelled at a television.

The Buddha comes off the screen and the big man drops WAY back. Magic Johnson just fades to the arc for the cleanest look of the night. Baseline drive by Magic Johnson, he absorbs the hammer from the help defender, and the official is already pointing to the line. Two shots, two makes. Magic Johnson does not flinch.

Magic Johnson 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.

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

You judge a locker room by moments like this. Neil deGrasse Tyson makes the play, and every man on that sideline erupts right along with him. Somewhere there is a shift with the philosopher written on it for tomorrow morning. Tonight he is out here erasing shots.

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

You want basketball IQ? Ask the philosopher, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. Dribble handoff from The Buddha, and the defender gets wiped out on the exchange! The youtuber tried the teardrop and never got it to the rim. Turns out soft touch does not come standard with that day job.

The Buddha 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: Neil deGrasse Tyson passes, the defender peeks at the ball, and that one beat is the whole possession. Nobody drew up that arc. The philosopher floated one halfway to the rafters, and the rim never even got a say.

Across half court, a quick survey, a point to the weak side, and The Buddha drops it off to Neil deGrasse Tyson on time and on target. Nikocado Avocado sets it and slides out instead of rolling, Neil deGrasse Tyson finds him late, and the defense pays for cheating under the screen. Getting to his spot and elevating, Nikocado Avocado puts it on the back iron, up over the front, and out. Half a rotation from two points.

Nikocado Avocado looks like someone who hasn't slept in three days. Neil deGrasse Tyson looks like someone who won't sleep tonight. And here is the answer to our game The Dating Game of Horseshoes! Sherman Pilkington of Chicken Bristle, Rhode Island, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the world record for longest halftime shot made by a man holding a soft drink?' The answer was of course forty-one feet, and he did not spill a drop, which is the real story. Sherman takes home a cast-iron skillet seasoned by four generations of strangers! I learned backstage that Neil deGrasse Tyson also does religious founder on weekends. That explains those reflexes. That's it. Up next: 'Anthony Bourdain Visits: The Park-and-Ride in Poughkeepsie.' Culture shock.

Matchday 15 — vs Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest

82-126 (L)

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

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

The Buddha walks it up, two fingers in the air, and the whole offense shifts on his command. Watch the sell from Neil deGrasse Tyson 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 Neil deGrasse Tyson.

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

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

A cut with that timing from the philosopher? He is on the clock somewhere else all week and he still found time to learn the two-man game. Straight back to the office for the philosopher, and the group chat has already seen it twice.

Break time. Magic Johnson bolts to the locker room without looking at anyone. Intel: Magic Johnson refuses to play if the ball isn't inflated to exactly 8 PSI. Not 7.9, not 8.1. Eight. 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?' The show goes on. Players take position. Silence. Whistle.

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

OHHHH no, Neil deGrasse Tyson floats it crosscourt and it gets picked off clean. That thing is going the other way.

Late rotation from Neil deGrasse Tyson, he arrives half a beat behind the drive and the contact is obvious to everybody in the building. FOUR on Neil deGrasse Tyson! Grab a towel, that is the bench for a while.

Over the top of everybody. Magic Johnson to Nikocado Avocado in the corner, wide open, catch and rise. One hard step and Nikocado Avocado owns that whole side of the floor, which means the low man has to make a decision he does not want. Buzzer on the shot clock, Nikocado Avocado heaves it off one leg, and the ball comes up short of everything.

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

Onions from Magic Johnson! He plants himself in front of a freight train and just wears the whole thing. Filthy defense from Magic Johnson. He never touched a thing and he still won the possession.

No hero ball here: Magic Johnson takes what the defense gives and moves it along. The Buddha attacks the baseline and the ENTIRE defense has to rotate behind him! The religious founder spots up in the corner and drills it like it is nothing. Somewhere a shooting coach is crying tears of joy.

Hands out, palms up, The Buddha shrugs at the officials like he cannot explain what he just did either. Dry as a bone. Magic Johnson is doubled over at half court and the broadcast crew is howling. It goes viral before the next possession even starts.

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.

Total control. The Buddha has this thing on a string. Donald Trump Jr. eats the contact so Magic Johnson can run free along the baseline, and the catch-and-shoot look is right there. Magic Johnson went for the deep heat check and produced the loudest silence of the night, roar to OHHHH in half a second.

Both coaches are up off the bench pleading while the officials walk the Neil deGrasse Tyson sequence back frame by frame. The officials come back out, cross their arms, and Neil deGrasse Tyson goes from hero to spectator on one signal.

Donald Trump Jr. Avoids the cameras like the plague. Nikocado Avocado gets caught. Just says 'we'll be better'. 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 this game nervously chewing gum. I'm on my seventh piece. Thanks for tonight. And now: '60 Minutes: The Secrets of the Office Coffee Machine.'