My dream starting five — basketball_team 🇺🇸

Matchday 1 — vs Detroit Engine-Roar

80-125 (L)

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

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

Clean feed from David, nothing forced, just the offense breathing. Textbook two-man game: Dirk Nowitzki keeps the dribble alive, forces the big man to commit, and Kevin Hart rolls into an open runway. Give and go! Kevin Hart gives it up, cuts, and gets it right back with a clear lane to the cup! The film producer just dropped a teardrop over a seven footer. Soft hands must run in that trade!

Ice in the veins: Kevin Hart taps two fingers on his wrist, slow and cold, while the horn is still fading. Courtside is standing on the chairs. The visiting bench does not move an inch. Somebody in the second row has already turned it into a T-shirt.

The bench has completely lost its mind over the warlord! There are lifers in this league who never get a reaction like that. GET THAT OUTTA HERE! Malcolm X meets that jumper at the top of its flight and spikes it into the sideline.

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

Break. David collapses next to the vending machine. Small detail: David wears mismatched socks every game. Calls it a strategy. And now, our halftime TV game show Antiques Roadshow but Everything is Broken! To win an inflatable canoe with a slow but very honest leak, text HOOPS to 555-0116 and answer this question: 'What is the going rate for a rebound in small claims court?' Back for the second half. The coach slammed his fist on the table.

WALLED OFF! Kevin Hart slides over and the paint is CLOSED for business. This is the work that never shows up in a box score, and Kevin Hart just took two points off the board without a single stat.

The warlord turns clean out of two bodies in the paint. That is nowhere in the job description and yet here we are. Soft off the fingertips, the ball takes a full lap of the rim on David, and spits straight back out. That is theft.

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.

The association football 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! So close. Dirk Nowitzki can only stare at the iron.

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

Swing, swing, and Kevin Hart finds David on the wing before the help can even turn its head. OHHHH the pocket pass! David splits the coverage and the roll man is loose under the basket! Textbook footwork, textbook release from Kevin Hart, cruel result as it spins out and both teams go up for a contested board.

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

Punish the help, that is the rule, and Kevin De Bruyne just did it by hitting Dirk Nowitzki on the back side with acres of room. Hesitate, GO. Dirk Nowitzki is by that hip before the man even blinks. Dirk Nowitzki blows the wide open layup!

Count it and the foul. Brutal. Detroit Engine-Roar with a three point play and a gut punch in the same possession.

OHHHH the hesi! Kevin De Bruyne froze him solid and he is already gone! OFF THE IRON and halfway to the bench! Kevin De Bruyne missed that one with real conviction.

Dirk Nowitzki's gaze is cold, distant. Malcolm X's gaze is hot, angry. And here is the answer to our game Antiques Roadshow but Everything is Broken! Wayne Shropshire of Salt Lick Junction, Maine, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the going rate for a rebound in small claims court?' The answer was of course twelve dollars, or one covered dish. Wayne takes home an inflatable canoe with a slow but very honest leak! Tonight I nearly had a heart attack at least four times. And I'm just the commentator. Thanks everyone! And now: 'Keeping Up with the Kardashians: Season 312.' They will never stop.

Matchday 2 — vs Miami Heart-Attack

81-123 (L)

The film producer is running this zone like he has been drawing it up his entire life. Wrong career, my friend, absolutely the wrong career. Tipped away by Malcolm X! Loose ball, scramble, bodies everywhere, and it ends up in our hands.

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

You want basketball IQ? Ask the film producer, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. Court vision like that on the association football player is absurd. Whatever the day job pays him, the assist numbers say he is badly underpriced. Oh my. Kevin Hart did not even draw iron.

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

Everybody in the arena knew the stepback was coming from David, and not one single soul could do anything about it. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! The warlord just drew a shooting foul with a veteran pump fake. Two free throws for somebody who clocks in at a real job tomorrow morning. This is exactly why the coach wants the ball in his hands late. David has been money at that line all season long.

David slides on his knees down the free throw lane, arms wide, and ends up flat on his back watching his own replay on the video board. He points at himself on the screen. The officials have stopped pretending to have any control here.

Both teams head to the locker room. David wipes his forehead with his jersey. Confession: David believes the away locker room is haunted. Refuses to go in alone. And now, our halftime TV game show The Newlywed Regret Game! To win a genuine imitation leather fanny pack, text HOOPS to 555-0155 and answer this question: 'How many potato chips are in a family size bag before the air gets involved?' Tipoff! The ref blows the whistle, the ball is in the air.

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

A warlord breaking down a professional defender in front of a sold out house! Remember that day job, folks! Blocked into the floor. David will be seeing that one in his sleep.

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

Kevin Hart launches it weak side, one pass, and the whole shell has to sprint. Good luck with that. That hesitation move is exactly why they keep sending a second body at Kevin De Bruyne the moment he crosses half court. The help defender had position, leverage, everything but a chance. Kevin De Bruyne rose straight over the top of him, and one.

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

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

That is the pass that beats a zone, and David threw it before the help even committed. Kevin De Bruyne splits the coverage with a bounce pass you need slow motion to appreciate. Dimes. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Two points in every gym in America except this one, and Dirk Nowitzki is walking back with both hands on his head.

Left, right, gone. David put that defender on skates and never even looked back. The filthy euro-step in traffic was the idea, but the feet got greedy and the whistle blew David dead.

The association football player is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. From WAY downtown off the pop! David with the extra pass and CASH. Up goes the shot from Dirk Nowitzki and that is nothing but AIR, and every soul in this building saw it happen.

A full spin move through traffic from the warlord! Whatever they teach in that trade, footwork is apparently part of it. Three shots for David. Worst foul in the sport.

Kevin De Bruyne eats the contact so David can run free along the baseline, and the catch-and-shoot look is right there. The big man never even contested it, and David still could not get the runner to drop. That one is on him.

Dirk Nowitzki collapses into the first available chair. Malcolm X stays standing, eyes glazed over. And here is the answer to our game The Newlywed Regret Game! Loretta Bagwell of Turkey Foot, Georgia, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many potato chips are in a family size bag before the air gets involved?' The answer was of course eleven, and the remainder is atmosphere. Loretta takes home a genuine imitation leather fanny pack! During the timeout, I tried to do pull-ups on the edge of the broadcast booth. Zero. Good night! And now, 'The Bachelor: Stray Cat Edition.' Who will find love in this dumpster?

Matchday 3 — vs Orlando Magic-Beans

88-112 (L)

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

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

Right through the window. Kevin De Bruyne to Dirk Nowitzki on the roll, and the help was a half step late. DOUBLE DRIBBLE! Dirk Nowitzki picked it up, put it back down, and the whistle went off like a smoke alarm.

Malcolm X gets it on the reversal and now this defense is rotating, scrambling and losing ground, all because Kevin De Bruyne saw it a beat early. The imam pulls out the crossover of his life, and Monday morning he clocks in like nothing ever happened. Pull-up from the elbow by Malcolm X, halfway down, spinning inside the iron, and it pops right back out.

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

The players head in. Kevin Hart slips on the wet tunnel floor. Fun fact: Kevin Hart got rejected at a casting for a deodorant commercial. The irony. 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?' We pick up right where we left off. Time to play.

David drives, draws two bodies, and swings it one more time to the corner. That is the pass nobody is required to make. You are about to see a coach put his entire face in both hands, and Kevin Hart has earned every second of that reaction.

Watch the change of pace from David, half speed into full speed in one step, and that is a blow-by every time. Shot clock at one, and David just has to throw something at the rim. Nothing doing.

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

Kevin Hart wound up and clubbed the driver across the head on the way to the rim, and this building has gone completely silent.

Somebody explain how the association football player reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. BAAAANG! Kevin Hart with the alley-oop finish, and the defender never even left the floor.

The whole second unit is on the floor before the ball is out of the net. Kevin Hart disappears underneath them. Somewhere in the pile shoe comes off. Malcolm X is on the outside of it screaming straight up at the ceiling.

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

Push the pace! Kevin De Bruyne grabs it and hits Dirk Nowitzki in stride before the defense can even match up. Down screen, and Dirk Nowitzki curls hard into the middle of the floor with a full step of daylight. Easy read. David threads a BEAUTY to Dirk Nowitzki under the rim and... he lays it off the bottom of the iron! Ohhhh, no.

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

A association football player breaking down a professional defender in front of a sold out house! Remember that day job, folks! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Kevin De Bruyne rose up over the help and hammered it down on somebody's head!

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

Malcolm X slams his fist on the bench. Kevin De Bruyne places his palm flat, as if to calm the surface. 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! On my end, I ate peanuts through the entire third quarter. Salt is my drug of choice. Thanks for watching this game. And now: 'Deal or No Deal: Office Fridge Edition.'

Matchday 4 — vs Philadelphia Injury-Report

89-134 (L)

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

The ball travels faster than five defenders can, and David has known that all night long. Dirk Nowitzki comes flying off that screen and he is WIDE open! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! That was IN for Dirk Nowitzki!

Kevin Hart kicks it over to David, no dribble, no drama, and this offense settles into a rhythm. Here comes the slip from Dirk Nowitzki, and David reads it a half second before anybody else in the building. BRICK! Dirk Nowitzki throws up a prayer and the iron sends it straight back out to half court!

Kevin De Bruyne walks it up, two fingers in the air, and the whole offense shifts on his command. OHHHH the pin-down! Kevin Hart pops out clean while the defender is STILL tangled up with Malcolm X. Brutal. AROUND the cylinder and OUT! Kevin Hart cannot believe it, and neither can this building.

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

The players file out. Dirk Nowitzki exchanges a tense look with the coach. Exclusive info: Dirk Nowitzki is banned for life from the McDonald's near the arena. The details remain murky. And now, our halftime TV game show Go Fish for Answers! To win a porch swing missing every single chain, text HOOPS to 555-0468 and answer this question: 'What is the average lifespan of a whistle used in a middle school gym?' The players are back. Some look fresh, others... Not so much.

Reach-in on the film producer. He tried to take the ball the way he takes everything else on the job, politely and with both hands. Kevin Hart reaches, gets caught, whistle. Third personal, and the coach immediately looks down his bench.

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

Watch the sell from Kevin De Bruyne here, he leans in, he gets the defender leaning with him, and then he backs away into all that space. Kevin De Bruyne probes to the right, pulls the string, and rises over a helpless closeout from twenty six feet. Splash.

Kevin De Bruyne 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. Dirk Nowitzki photobombs with crossed eyes, and the clip runs on every highlight show by midnight.

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

OHHHH the bench is GONE! Towels over heads, bodies off the chairs, all because of Dirk Nowitzki! Lazy crosscourt pass, and David makes them pay. Clean pick, no whistle, two easy ones before that coach can sit back down.

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

This is the foul that gets your night cut short. Kevin De Bruyne has to contest with a high hand and land in his own space.

Over the top of everybody. Kevin De Bruyne to Malcolm X in the corner, wide open, catch and rise. 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 Malcolm X does. Watch the feet on Malcolm X there, still drifting sideways at the release, and that is exactly why the floater sails wide left of everything.

Laser from Kevin Hart, corner to corner, and that closeout gets there about a second and a half too late. OHHHH, what a read by Dirk Nowitzki! He never even glanced at the rim and it is CASH on the other end. Soft touch from Kevin Hart, the floater drops right over the big man. Cash.

Unselfish basketball. Kevin Hart passes up a good shot and hands David a GREAT one. Two hands on the ball, then a fresh bounce. Somewhere a youth coach is watching the warlord and quietly turning off the TV.

Dirk Nowitzki refuses to watch the replay on the jumbotron. Malcolm X watches it and immediately regrets it. And here is the answer to our game show Go Fish for Answers! Peggy Ann Winterbottom of Two Chairs, Nebraska, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'What is the average lifespan of a whistle used in a middle school gym?' The answer was of course six years, or two seasons of an especially loud coach. Peggy Ann therefore wins a porch swing missing every single chain! Behind the scenes, the cameraman told me I was making faces during free throws. I had no idea. Good night! And now, 'The Bachelor: Stray Cat Edition.' Who will find love in this dumpster?

Matchday 5 — vs Phoenix No-Defense

85-123 (L)

It started as a hard box out and it ended with David throwing an elbow the crew could not possibly ignore.

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

SKIP PASS! Kevin De Bruyne fires it cross court to Malcolm X and the defense is dead in the water! OHHHH he went BACKDOOR! Malcolm X never broke stride and he has the ball UNDER THE RIM! Gift wrapped by David, and Malcolm X cannot finish the two footer. That one is going to sting.

Punish the help, that is the rule, and Kevin Hart just did it by hitting David on the back side with acres of room. OHHHHH HE SNATCHED HIS ANKLES! David left him on the hardwood and this building is SHAKING! OHHHH, that one died in the air! David put nothing into it and the front rim eats the floater.

The association football player is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. They do not teach that in the imam handbook, and yet here we are. Beautiful little exchange. BANG! Kevin De Bruyne steps back, creates the daylight, and buries it right in the defender's eye.

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

Finally a breather. Kevin Hart has calf cramps, the physio rushes over. Anecdote: Kevin Hart tried to impress the Phoenix No-Defense players with a warm-up dunk. Hit the rim. With his face. 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?' The players come back running. Did someone set the locker room on fire?

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

Here is the part that never makes the highlight package: Kevin De Bruyne controlling tempo, burning clock, hunting the mismatch the second one shows up. BAAAANG! David sets the table and the pick-and-pop three goes down like somebody scripted it. The association football player had that thing halfway down and the rim spat it back out. Nobody ever warns you that the iron has a personality.

The association football player turns clean out of two bodies in the paint. That is nowhere in the job description and yet here we are. A timeout is coming, because no defense recovers from watching Kevin De Bruyne do that to one of their own.

Bow to the crowd, a full waist bend with one arm across the stomach, the whole theatrical thing. Kevin De Bruyne holds it three seconds. Dirk Nowitzki applauds behind him like a valet. Somebody in row two throws a bouquet of obviously fake roses onto the floor, and Kevin De Bruyne collects every last one.

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

Hand check on Kevin Hart. That is a foul in this league every single time. The film producer sits down with four. You want to be furious, but honestly, he came here straight off a full shift.

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

Set called, David waved out to the corner, and Kevin De Bruyne watches the spacing open up like a front door. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! David put that man in a blender and the third row felt it! Two on the shot clock and the ball ends up with the warlord, which is how you get a twenty-eight footer off the wrong foot.

Dirk Nowitzki sets the pick and DIVES to the cup. Kevin De Bruyne lays it right on his hands in traffic! Contested, off balance, fading away from the wrong shoulder, that is a shot Dirk Nowitzki should never take with three teammates standing wide open.

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

The warlord makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. The association football player runs a dribble handoff with the timing of a fifteen-year vet. Not bad for somebody who does this on weekends. Wide open at the top of the key and Dirk Nowitzki cannot make it count, the defense secures the board and takes off in transition.

Kevin De Bruyne walks like someone carrying the weight of the world. David drags one foot after the other. 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. See you at the next game! In the meantime: 'Pawn Stars: Selling a Pen Without a Cap.'

Matchday 6 — vs Los Angeles Nursing-Home

81-119 (L)

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

David forces a contested fadeaway with a hand in his face, front rim, and the drought rolls on. The offense stalls, David gets stuck on the wing with no exit and nobody flashing open, and the shot clock eats him alive.

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

Reverse it, make them slide all over again, that is how David breaks a shell down. The imam reads the screen perfectly, comes off shoulder to shoulder, and buys himself an open look. Veteran movement, rookie resume. That is the shot Malcolm X wants every trip down the floor, it drops nine nights out of ten, and tonight is the tenth.

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

Halftime. Malcolm X's hair is completely soaked, like climbing out of a pool. I've been told Malcolm X once ordered a pizza during a timeout. The coach was not amused. And now, our halftime TV game show Wheel of Slightly Damp Prizes! To win a wind chime built entirely out of old belt buckles, text HOOPS to 555-0081 and answer this question: 'How long does a squeaky sneaker stay squeaky?' We're back! The coach drew stuff on the whiteboard, let's see if it works.

Full stop, full sprint, and the warlord is in the paint! Nobody back at the workplace is going to believe this one. Straight back to the office for the warlord, and the group chat has already seen it twice.

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.

The warlord hit three straight and immediately decided he was allowed to shoot from the tunnel. He was not.

Cold blooded from Los Angeles Nursing-Home, way out beyond the arc, and our defense is scrambling in rotation.

Somebody explain how the association football player reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. Ball into Kevin De Bruyne at the elbow, Malcolm X plants his foot and goes backdoor, and the pass meets him in the air. Filthy. The imam tried the teardrop and never got it to the rim. Turns out soft touch does not come standard with that day job.

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

Help defense from the film producer! Somebody in this league is getting paid millions to be a full step slower than that.

Towels are FLYING for the warlord! Going back to the day job on Monday is going to feel extremely strange after a night like this.

Rises, releases, and Malcolm X sends the ball through the exact patch of sky where the rim is not. Second-chance points are how you steal games on the road, and Kevin Hart has now cleaned up four misses tonight. OHHHH he went and GOT that! Kevin Hart with the putback jam over two bodies.

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

Dirk Nowitzki collapses into the first available chair. Malcolm X stays standing, eyes glazed over. And here is the answer to our game Wheel of Slightly Damp Prizes! Geraldine Sump of Grimy Elbow, Washington, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How long does a squeaky sneaker stay squeaky?' The answer was of course until the exact second somebody else listens for it. Geraldine takes home a wind chime built entirely out of old belt buckles! Tonight I nearly had a heart attack at least four times. And I'm just the commentator. Good night! And now: 'Naked and Afraid: Lost in the Shopping Mall.'

Matchday 7 — vs Toronto Border-Patrol

75-119 (L)

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

Goaltending on Dirk Nowitzki. Great athleticism, terrible timing.

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

Eight seconds off the shot clock and Kevin De Bruyne has not wasted one of them, the ball reaching Dirk Nowitzki precisely where the play wanted it. Dirk Nowitzki hands it off to Kevin Hart, slices through the seam, and the return pass is sitting there waiting at the rim. Dirk Nowitzki gets to his spot in the lane, lifts the runner over the big man, and leaves it a foot short. No dice.

The warlord pulls out the crossover of his life, and Monday morning he clocks in like nothing ever happened. Get that one framed. David took off from the block and the defender is still lying on the floor.

Halftime whistle! David grabs a towel and collapses on the bench. I've been told David once ordered a pizza during a timeout. The coach was not amused. And now, our halftime TV game show Card Sharks and Minnows! To win a case of off-brand soda called Mister Fizz, text HOOPS to 555-0209 and answer this question: 'How deep is the deep end of a kiddie pool?' Second half! The crowd is on its feet, and so are the players.

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

Pass, cut, catch, wide open. Four things in about a second and a half from Kevin Hart. Somewhere there is a coaching video being edited right now, and the film producer is the star of it. Three steps and a prayer.

Ball moves. Kevin Hart to Malcolm X, on time and on target. Malcolm X stutters at the elbow, the defender bites on it, and now there is nothing but open floor between him and the rim. Getting to his spot and elevating, Malcolm X puts it on the back iron, up over the front, and out. Half a rotation from two points.

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

The film producer makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. Ice in his veins for a guy who answers to imam the rest of the week. Professional shot, amateur resume. The association football player launched one from the logo as the horn sounded. In fairness, nobody in that huddle gave him a better option.

Dribble handoff from Kevin De Bruyne, and the defender gets wiped out on the exchange! Stop on a dime, up and over those outstretched arms, and the center can only stand there and watch Dirk Nowitzki walk away from it.

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

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

The association football player is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. Off the pin-down comes the film producer with nobody inside a zip code. Somebody out there knows how to use a screen, and it is not who you would guess. Missed layup for the film producer and the whole arena groans as one. Great hands in the day job, apparently they do not travel.

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

No hero ball here: Kevin De Bruyne takes what the defense gives and moves it along. Dirk Nowitzki rips it back into the stepback and suddenly there is a country mile between him and that defender. No good. Dirk Nowitzki rushed that one.

Kevin De Bruyne looks like someone who hasn't slept in three days. David looks like someone who won't sleep tonight. And here is the answer to our game Card Sharks and Minnows! Norma Jean Slaughterbeck of Grease Rack, Indiana, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How deep is the deep end of a kiddie pool?' The answer was of course approximately one confident toddler. Norma Jean takes home a case of off-brand soda called Mister Fizz! Did you know that David practices association football player on Tuesdays? Builds character, that does. That's all for tonight! Coming up: 'CSI: Underground Parking Garage.' Riveting stuff.

Matchday 8 — vs Minnesota Ice-Wall

87-131 (L)

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

Somebody explain how the association football player reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. Watch the spacing, Dirk Nowitzki drags two bodies toward the ball and David is standing alone behind the line. Geometry, not luck. The warlord hammers a brick off the backboard so hard the rim is still shaking. Nothing in that resume prepared anybody for this.

Whirl, and GONE! David leaves the defender grabbing at a jersey that stopped being there half a second ago. The warlord baits the contact, gets the whistle, and struts to the line like a ten-year pro. His boss is watching this and quietly rethinking next week's schedule. Two shots, two makes. David does not flinch.

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

The imam walls up like a closed door and the shot never gets home. Nine to five, and now this.

Halftime! Kevin De Bruyne has the hardwood pattern imprinted on his elbow. Small detail: Kevin De Bruyne whistles the national anthem before every game. Off-key. Consistently off-key. 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?' Back on the court. The coach changed the starting five, that'll be a surprise.

The association football player makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. You can teach the jumper, you cannot teach the willingness, and David gives up a decent shot every single time a better one exists. Kevin Hart rises up from fifteen feet and OHHHH, that rattled in and OUT!

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

Filthy. Absolutely filthy from Kevin De Bruyne, and the defender knows exactly what just happened to him. It went halfway down! The ball sat in the cylinder, thought about it, and rolled off the far side on Kevin De Bruyne. Cruel.

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

The association football player pulls out the crossover of his life, and Monday morning he clocks in like nothing ever happened. The association football player just had his shot delivered into the courtside seats. Tough scene, but at least the day job is safe.

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

Second pass beats the rotation, Kevin Hart to Kevin De Bruyne, and the closeout gets there about half a second too late. The association football player 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.

Iron AGAIN for Dirk Nowitzki! Somebody put a lid on that rim and every possession has turned into pure suffering. Whistle, red light, nothing to show for it. Kevin Hart hands it over.

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

Across half court, a quick survey, a point to the weak side, and Kevin De Bruyne drops it off to Malcolm X on time and on target. STOP AND GO! Malcolm X hit the brakes, hit the gas, and the lane opened up like a garage door. That is a throwback bucket: Malcolm X with his back to the basket, and the defense has absolutely no answer for it.

Malcolm X pulls the jersey away from his chest and points at the crest, twice, hard, then taps his heart. No smile, no theater. The arena horn keeps going long after it should stop. Somebody up in the rafters is holding a sign about this exact city.

Dirk Nowitzki and Malcolm X walk side by side without looking at each other. The silence is deafening. 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! Tonight I learned Dirk Nowitzki used to be an association football player before basketball. Found out during a timeout. Threw me off completely. That was beautiful. And now: 'House Hunters International: 90-Square-Foot Studio, Wall View.' A steal.

Matchday 9 — vs Houston Blast-Off

87-130 (L)

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

Nothing left to play for here. Dirk Nowitzki plays out the string and the box score does the rest of the talking.

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

Cross court, on a rope, from the association football player. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. Nobody is getting a hand near that. Dirk Nowitzki has all the room in the world. Buzzer on the shot clock, Dirk Nowitzki heaves it off one leg, and the ball comes up short of everything.

Towels are FLYING for the imam! Going back to the day job on Monday is going to feel extremely strange after a night like this. Snatched! Malcolm X came out of NOWHERE for that one.

That's a cut. Kevin De Bruyne stumbles slightly reaching the locker room. Anecdote: Kevin De Bruyne once shot at the wrong basket during warm-ups. Nobody has forgotten. And now, our halftime TV game show Hollywood Squares Off! To win a punch card for a sandwich shop that stopped honoring punch cards, text HOOPS to 555-0431 and answer this question: 'Why do basketballs bounce higher when nobody is watching?' The arena lights up, the players are back. Game on.

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

Ball up the floor, change of speed right at the logo, and Kevin De Bruyne already has the defense a full step behind. The film producer just froze a grown professional with a hesitation dribble. This man punches a clock and he is out here doing THAT. OHHHH, the cylinder rejects the film producer! Somewhere a whole workplace just yelled at a television.

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

Total control. Kevin De Bruyne has this thing on a string. Watch Kevin De Bruyne plant his feet, absorb the hit, and spring Malcolm X out of that corner in a blink. Off the dribble, a full step behind the logo, straight down. Tomorrow the imam goes back to work, tonight he owns this arena.

Malcolm X guesses left, the ball handler goes right, and suddenly this is a two-on-one before anybody can rotate. Reach-in on Dirk Nowitzki. He wanted the steal, he bought a foul.

Here is the danger of a hot night: Kevin De Bruyne stops taking the shots that got him going and starts taking the ones that cool him off.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the warlord, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. Two defenders, one gap, and Dirk Nowitzki finds it. Onions on that pass. The film producer launched one from the logo as the horn sounded. In fairness, nobody in that huddle gave him a better option.

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

The ball travels faster than five defenders can, and Kevin Hart has known that all night long. The imam just made the extra pass with a clean look of his own! You do not run into that kind of selflessness at the office! OHHHHH POSTERIZED! David just ENDED that defender at the rim!

The crew chief has the headset on, three angles on the screen, everybody in here staring at Kevin De Bruyne. The building went up, the building came right back down, and Kevin De Bruyne is staring at a scoreboard that never moved.

David hurls his mouthguard into the trash. Dirk Nowitzki keeps his in, chewing on the frustration. And here is the answer to our game show Hollywood Squares Off! Harlan Prewitt of Muddy Boot, Mississippi, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'Why do basketballs bounce higher when nobody is watching?' The answer was of course that they are showing off for the ceiling. Harlan therefore wins a punch card for a sandwich shop that stopped honoring punch cards! As for me, I powered through three coffees and a gas station sandwich. The glamorous life of sports journalism. Thanks! And now, 'Neighbors from Hell: The Community Compost Bin Saga.' Episode 1 of 74.

Matchday 10 — vs Denver Horse-Track

83-119 (L)

The press did exactly what it was drawn up to do. David panicked, the timeline did the rest, and the defense gets a turnover without stealing a thing.

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

POCKET PASS! Kevin Hart threads it to Kevin De Bruyne between two bodies and the rim is wide open! Count them with me: one step, two steps, and a third one nobody asked for. The official has seen enough of Kevin De Bruyne.

SKIP PASS! Kevin De Bruyne fires it cross court to Kevin Hart and the defense is dead in the water! Not an inch to spare on the endline, but Kevin Hart keeps both feet in bounds and the help gets there a beat too late. Stuck holding it as the clock bleeds out, Kevin Hart fades away from twenty-six feet, and it is not close.

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

Finally a breather. Malcolm X has calf cramps, the physio rushes over. Physio's confession: Malcolm X purrs when you massage his calves. Like a cat. A big cat. And now, our halftime TV game show Hee Haw Halftime Hoedown! To win a stack of TV listings magazines from the winter of 1986, text HOOPS to 555-0466 and answer this question: 'How many gallons of sweat does an average pep band produce?' Act two! The bench players are fired up, the starters too.

The film producer just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. Screened, toasted, done. Kevin De Bruyne is loose and the defense is scrambling to find him. Baby hook by Kevin De Bruyne, right over that outstretched hand, high off the board, count it.

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

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! David was at the other free throw line when that break started! OUTLET! David rips the board and fires it ahead to Dirk Nowitzki before anybody gets back! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Dirk Nowitzki scooped that in from underneath the rim!

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

Oldest play in the book and it still works: Kevin Hart passes, the defender peeks at the ball, and that one beat is the whole possession. Long and gone. Kevin Hart floats the teardrop over everything and bangs it off the back iron.

Kevin Hart gets it on the reversal and now this defense is rotating, scrambling and losing ground, all because David saw it a beat early. Nobody dribbled, nobody isolated, Kevin Hart and Dirk Nowitzki just played basketball and the defense got shredded. Two points left on the floor by Kevin Hart, and those are exactly the ones that come back to bite you in the fourth.

The officials swallow a LOT of noise in this league, so understand exactly what it took for Kevin De Bruyne to get whistled up for that one. The association football player argued himself right off the floor. That mouth pays the bills in that line of work, and tonight it cost him the fourth quarter.

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

Cross court, on a rope, from the association football player. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. This is the work that never shows up on a stat sheet, Dirk Nowitzki gets the credit and the guy setting the screen gets the bruise. Fifth possession this half where Dirk Nowitzki has been left to bail everybody out with the clock at zero. He cannot keep doing this alone.

They do not teach that in the association football player handbook, and yet here we are. Beautiful little exchange. Look at Malcolm X mouthing an apology toward his own bench before the call is even announced. He knew instantly.

Kevin De Bruyne and Dirk Nowitzki share a single look. Just one. It contains all the disappointment in the world. And here is the answer to our game Hee Haw Halftime Hoedown! Trudy Gebhardt of Sauerkraut Bend, North Dakota, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many gallons of sweat does an average pep band produce?' The answer was of course just under four, and most of it from the tuba section. Trudy takes home a stack of TV listings magazines from the winter of 1986! Your commentator lost his press badge during the game. I had to climb over a barrier. Until next time! Up next: 'Kitchen Nightmares: Corporate Cafeteria.' This is gonna be good.

Matchday 11 — vs New York Over-Timers

90-134 (L)

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.

The association football player is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. Kevin De Bruyne just took a shoulder to the chest to buy Malcolm X half a second, and half a second in this league is an eternity. No touch. Malcolm X left the soft hands in the locker room tonight.

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

SPIN and GO! David pirouettes right through the traffic and comes out the other side clean! Two on the shot clock and the ball ends up with the warlord, which is how you get a twenty-eight footer off the wrong foot.

The association football player just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Dirk Nowitzki spun out of a double team like it was a revolving door! Catch on the block, shoulder into the chest, one dribble, and Dirk Nowitzki finishes over the top. Textbook.

Halftime. The physio pounces on Dirk Nowitzki to massage his thighs. Bus driver's confession: Dirk Nowitzki raps gibberish during road trips. Loudly. And now, our halftime TV game show Double Dare You! To win a three-pound bag of gas station beef jerky, text HOOPS to 555-0091 and answer this question: 'How many times does a basketball bounce before it forgives you?' Let's go, we're back. The crowd claps in rhythm.

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

Ball up the floor, change of speed right at the logo, and Kevin De Bruyne already has the defense a full step behind. Oldest play in the book, and Malcolm X runs it in his sleep. That drop coverage never had a prayer. Perfect drop-off from Malcolm X, and Kevin De Bruyne answers with... whatever that was. Off the glass, off the rim, and gone.

Dirk Nowitzki pushes it in transition, pulls up from the elbow, cash. That is a 10-0 run and the visitors have not scored in three minutes. That is a coaching staff completely out of answers. Dirk Nowitzki has taken this game over and the only tool left in the box is a stoppage.

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

Punish the help, that is the rule, and Kevin De Bruyne just did it by hitting Malcolm X on the back side with acres of room. OHHHH that is filthy! Malcolm X on the handoff and the man guarding it is still fighting over the top. Down, up, and gone for Kevin Hart. The rim is just toying with him now.

Awful shot by Kevin De Bruyne with eleven still on the shot clock, off the front rim and out to the wing. Dirk Nowitzki SKIES for it! Extra life for this offense. That is pure want-to: Dirk Nowitzki was the only man on the floor who decided that rebound belonged to him.

Shimmy from the corner all the way to half court, shoulders loose, chin high. Dirk Nowitzki is in no hurry whatsoever. The home bench tries to copy it and produces something closer to a seizure. The building decides it loves both versions equally.

Push the pace! Kevin De Bruyne grabs it and hits David in stride before the defense can even match up. Two guys on the exact same page, David and Malcolm X, and the defense is left holding a bag of nothing. The warlord 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.

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

Ball squirts loose off the knee of the association football player. Back to the day job, my friend. Back to the day job.

The ball travels faster than five defenders can, and Kevin De Bruyne has known that all night long. Dirk Nowitzki turns the corner off the screen from David, the help never rotates, and the lane is WIDE open! The warlord launched one from the logo as the horn sounded. In fairness, nobody in that huddle gave him a better option.

Dirk Nowitzki and Malcolm X share a single look. Just one. It contains all the disappointment in the world. And here is the answer to our game Double Dare You! Opal Sisk of Nickel Plate, Colorado, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many times does a basketball bounce before it forgives you?' The answer was of course six, and the seventh is only out of politeness. Opal takes home a three-pound bag of gas station beef jerky! Fun fact: my sound engineer fell asleep during the second quarter. I woke him with an elbow. That was beautiful. And now: 'House Hunters International: 90-Square-Foot Studio, Wall View.' A steal.

Matchday 12 — vs Cleveland Twin-Towers

88-127 (L)

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

The beauty of it is that Kevin De Bruyne never has to set a screen at all, the exchange IS the screen. Nightmare to guard. Stuck out on the perimeter with no outlet, David panics, re-dribbles, and hands the possession over on a silver platter.

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

Dirk Nowitzki gets it on the reversal and now this defense is rotating, scrambling and losing ground, all because David saw it a beat early. One little shoulder dip from Dirk Nowitzki and the guy guarding him turned into a traffic cone in real time. Catching it right at the cup with nobody within eight feet, Dirk Nowitzki goes up too strong and the ball rides high off the backboard.

Eight seconds off the shot clock and Kevin De Bruyne has not wasted one of them, the ball reaching Dirk Nowitzki precisely where the play wanted it. Hard drive, hard stop, and Dirk Nowitzki retreats into an ocean of open hardwood. They do not teach that footwork anymore, and yet here is Dirk Nowitzki running a full masterclass on the low block.

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

Break. Kevin Hart collapses next to the vending machine. Juicy intel: Kevin Hart turned down an endorsement deal because he'd have to wear a mascot costume. And now, our halftime TV game show Hollywood Squares of Cheese! To win a taxidermy squirrel holding a tiny fishing rod, text HOOPS to 555-0134 and answer this question: 'What is the correct number of ice cubes in a gas station soda?' The players step onto the hardwood once more. The second half starts now.

Somebody explain how the association football player reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. Read, screen, delivery, right on the money. A imam making the right pass every single time, and the league is taking notes. Not a hand on him. Kevin Hart flat missed the bunny.

The association football player is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. David crosses, crosses back, the defender slides half a step the wrong way and the whole arena lets out the same OHHHH. That is another catch and shoot triple for David, and you can see the closeouts getting more desperate every single trip.

Baseline spin from David at full speed, and his man never even gets a hand into the picture. Filthy stuff. OHHHH, the cylinder rejects the warlord! Somewhere a whole workplace just yelled at a television.

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

Day job, then this: the warlord reads a rolling big like a coach with twenty years on the bench. The gather was clean, the decision after it was not. Dirk Nowitzki had a live pivot foot and threw it away for a bounce he did not need.

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

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

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

Watch the spacing there, David hits Malcolm X right in the shooting pocket and the possession stays alive. OHHHH the separation! Malcolm X just manufactured three feet of daylight out of absolutely nothing. That is what heavy minutes do, Malcolm X has run all night and the legs have nothing left to give the jumper.

Back at the shop they have got this review up on every phone with the imam in the frame, and nobody is getting any work done. Freeze it right there: leather glued to the fingers of Malcolm X, horn already screaming. No basket.

Kevin De Bruyne is the last one off the court, shoulders hunched. David waits at the tunnel entrance. And here is the answer to our game Hollywood Squares of Cheese! Dwayne Pickle of Beaver Hollow, Pennsylvania, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the correct number of ice cubes in a gas station soda?' The answer was of course all of them, that is the entire business model. Dwayne takes home a taxidermy squirrel holding a tiny fishing rod! Tonight I had a revelation: David runs exactly like my neighbor when he misses the bus. Sleep tight! Coming up: 'Forensic Files: Who Finished the Milk Without Telling Anyone.'

Matchday 13 — vs Boston Ring-Chasers

87-131 (L)

Won it clean! Dirk Nowitzki got up and over him with room to spare.

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

Dribble alive, patient, patient, and then Kevin De Bruyne slips it to Dirk Nowitzki right in the pocket. Surgical. Ambition, ten out of ten. Footwork, two out of ten. Dirk Nowitzki beat himself before the defender ever showed up.

Kevin De Bruyne walks it up, two fingers in the air, and the whole offense shifts on his command. GONE down the baseline! Dirk Nowitzki beat him on the first step and the paint is collapsing. Range like that bends a defense completely out of shape, and Dirk Nowitzki keeps proving the arc is only a suggestion.

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

Both teams head to the locker room. Malcolm X wipes his forehead with his jersey. Did you know Malcolm X started basketball because he was terrible at soccer? Sometimes failure leads to greatness. 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?' We resume. Eyes locked in, jaws clenched.

Clean block, all ball, no whistle, and Dirk Nowitzki jogs back down the floor like nothing happened.

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

That is the second personal charged to Malcolm X and the bench is already staring at the clipboard. Foul trouble rewrites a rotation in a hurry. Careful now. Three fouls this early means Malcolm X plays the next stretch with his hands straight up in the air.

Screen, hesitation, delivery, Kevin Hart drops it off perfectly for Malcolm X diving to the rim. Nobody touched him, nobody trapped him, and Malcolm X still coughed it up. Easiest whistle these officials will blow all night.

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

OHHHH this thing is out of control! Kevin Hart will not let that rival star have the last word tonight!

The association football player just ran that two-man game like he has a decade of film on it. Somebody get this man a contract. Even the imam knows better than that. You do not get to walk your man into the paint and call it a pick.

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

A probe, a plant of the outside foot, and David pushes off while his man is still fighting to recover his balance. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! The warlord just drew a shooting foul with a veteran pump fake. Two free throws for somebody who clocks in at a real job tomorrow morning. No wasted motion at all from David. Both free throws split the net and the scoreboard ticks over twice.

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

Off the pin-down comes the association football player with nobody inside a zip code. Somebody out there knows how to use a screen, and it is not who you would guess. From eight feet Kevin De Bruyne puts way too much on it, and the ball clears the rim entirely.

Malcolm X whispers 'this can't be real' under his breath. Kevin Hart nods without conviction. 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! During the third quarter, I spilled my soup. Yes, I had soup in the booth. Don't judge. Good night everyone! And now, the show nobody asked for: 'Pigeon Hunters.'

Matchday 14 — vs San Antonio Skyscrapers

85-129 (L)

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

That is the pass nobody puts on a highlight reel, and David makes it every single trip down the floor. The imam just threaded a pocket pass through two defenders. Where exactly did that vision come from? Nobody moved, nobody cut, nobody set a screen, so David launches a contested jumper with the horn already going. Ugly offense.

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

Clean feed from Kevin De Bruyne, nothing forced, just the offense breathing. A single dribble is all David needed to get downhill, and the back side of that defense is in complete disarray. The bench has cleared, the crowd is screaming, and somewhere a photographer just got the shot of the season thanks to David.

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

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

That's a cut. Kevin De Bruyne stumbles slightly reaching the locker room. Fun fact: Kevin De Bruyne tried to patent a celebration after a three-pointer. The application was rejected. And now, our halftime TV game show Countdown to Nothing in Particular! To win a jigsaw puzzle with all four corner pieces missing, text HOOPS to 555-1207 and answer this question: 'How many hot dogs does a mascot eat before he stops enjoying it?' Back on the floor, faces full of determination.

Contested! Malcolm X makes him change it in midair.

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

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

The film producer just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Kevin De Bruyne whips that pass one-handed on the move and the roll man gathers it through contact. Filthy. Textbook footwork, textbook release from Dirk Nowitzki, cruel result as it spins out and both teams go up for a contested board.

The association football player just froze a grown professional with a hesitation dribble. This man punches a clock and he is out here doing THAT. The association football player just had his shot delivered into the courtside seats. Tough scene, but at least the day job is safe.

San Antonio Skyscrapers again, and again nobody is home. Three straight trips down the floor with zero resistance.

BAAAANG! Ten straight for Dirk Nowitzki and this place is a volcano! The opposing coach is off his seat waving both arms before the ball is even inbounded. Malcolm X forced that.

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

Punish the help, that is the rule, and Kevin De Bruyne just did it by hitting Dirk Nowitzki on the back side with acres of room. Dirk Nowitzki rips it back into the stepback and suddenly there is a country mile between him and that defender. Third one of these from Dirk Nowitzki this quarter, third time the arc is wrong. The lane is not open real estate anymore.

The association football player runs a dribble handoff with the timing of a fifteen-year vet. Not bad for somebody who does this on weekends. Count it AND the foul! Dirk Nowitzki refused to be denied at the rim.

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

Kevin De Bruyne takes off his shoes and carries them like a ghost. Malcolm X follows the same path. And here is the answer to our game show Countdown to Nothing in Particular! Norma Jean Sprinkle of Butterbean Flats, Alaska, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How many hot dogs does a mascot eat before he stops enjoying it?' The answer was of course nine, and the tenth one is purely professional. Norma Jean therefore wins a jigsaw puzzle with all four corner pieces missing! My wife texted me: 'when are you coming home?' I said 'after the game.' That was two hours ago. See you soon. In the meantime: 'Wipeout: IKEA on a Saturday.' Worse than the actual obstacles.

Matchday 15 — vs Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest

81-126 (L)

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

The association football player makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. A cut with that timing from the film producer? He is on the clock somewhere else all week and he still found time to learn the two-man game. Kevin Hart beat the clock by a tenth of a second and missed by about four feet. Technically legal, competitively pointless.

The big rolls, the defense collapses, and Kevin Hart punishes it with a read most guys never even see. The imam just put somebody on a POSTER! That defender is going to see this clip for the rest of his life!

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

Arm across the body, whistle, dead ball. Reach on Kevin De Bruyne. You can watch the math happen on that sideline: Kevin De Bruyne has four, there are big minutes left, and somebody has to hold the fort.

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

Halftime. Malcolm X is holding his ribs walking toward the tunnel. Did you know Malcolm X once tried to start an ASMR podcast of sneaker squeaks on the hardwood? One episode. Deleted. 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?' Both teams emerge from the tunnel. The second half can begin.

Screened, toasted, done. David is loose and the defense is scrambling to find him. Two defenders in the lane, David splits them, double clutches and kisses it off the square. Count it!

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

Trapped in the corner of the backcourt, Malcolm X picks up his dribble, and the clock does the rest.

The warlord just made the extra pass with a clean look of his own! You do not run into that kind of selflessness at the office! The association football player just double dribbled in front of a sold-out building. Nobody back at work is ever letting that one go.

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

In a game this tight, David cannot be giving away a free point over a call that was never coming back. Unforgivable. David would not let it go. He already had one, he knew the rule, and he kept talking anyway.

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

The association football player is going shot for shot with the best scorer on this floor and refusing to flinch. On a weeknight. After a full shift.

Court vision like that on the association football player is absurd. Whatever the day job pays him, the assist numbers say he is badly underpriced. REJECTED! Malcolm X takes it in and gets it sent straight back into his own chest.

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.

Over the top of everybody. Kevin De Bruyne to Kevin Hart in the corner, wide open, catch and rise. Screen, roll, DELIVERY from Kevin Hart! Nothing but runway to the rim! That is a dime from Malcolm X that deserved so much better, and Kevin De Bruyne knows it, head down, jogging back before the ball even lands.

Kevin De Bruyne hurls his water bottle at the wall. Kevin Hart flinches but doesn't react. 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! Tonight I nearly had a heart attack at least four times. And I'm just the commentator. Good evening! Now: 'Destination Unknown: The Roundabout in Scranton, PA.' Total adventure.