My dream starting five — basketball_team 🇺🇸

Matchday 1 — vs Detroit Engine-Roar

91-133 (L)

Ball up the floor, change of speed right at the logo, and Marco Polo already has the defense a full step behind. That hesitation move is exactly why they keep sending a second body at John the Baptist the moment he crosses half court. John the Baptist beat the clock by a tenth of a second and missed by about four feet. Technically legal, competitively pointless.

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

Punish the help, that is the rule, and Iron Man just did it by hitting John the Baptist on the back side with acres of room. Watch the sell from John the Baptist here, he leans in, he gets the defender leaning with him, and then he backs away into all that space. Buzzer on the shot clock, John the Baptist heaves it off one leg, and the ball comes up short of everything.

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

The explorer just threaded a pocket pass through two defenders. Where exactly did that vision come from? Look at Iron Man mouthing an apology toward his own bench before the call is even announced. He knew instantly.

Halftime. John the Baptist wolfs down an energy bar in two bites. Did you know John the Baptist entered the dunk contest... At 5'9"? Courage knows no height. 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 players charge out of the tunnel. Smells like a comeback.

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

The hermit makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. The explorer just made the extra pass with a clean look of his own! You do not run into that kind of selflessness at the office! Rim, backboard, none of the above from the superhero! Ladies and gentlemen, that is a person with a real job, and we have all just been reminded of it.

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

You want basketball IQ? Ask the explorer, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. The beauty of it is that Zeus never has to set a screen at all, the exchange IS the screen. Nightmare to guard. Give and go! Marco Polo gives it up, cuts, and gets it right back with a clear lane to the cup! The explorer just fired one in from the logo and the roof nearly came off this place. That is in nobody's job description.

Marco Polo 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.

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

Deflection at midcourt, out and running, Marco Polo finishes through the contact and the run keeps rolling.

Iron Man launches it weak side, one pass, and the whole shell has to sprint. Good luck with that. Pass, cut, catch, wide open. Four things in about a second and a half from Marco Polo. BANG! Marco Polo steps back, creates the daylight, and buries it right in the defender's eye.

John the Baptist just took a shoulder to the chest to buy Marco Polo half a second, and half a second in this league is an eternity. That is a dime from Hulk that deserved so much better, and Marco Polo knows it, head down, jogging back before the ball even lands.

Nobody is touching the paint with the superhero parked in the middle of it. That is a full time defender doing a part time job, or the other way around. Hustle does not check your job title: the hermit tips it away and the possession is ours.

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

Marco Polo and John the Baptist 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! I learned backstage that John the Baptist also does explorer on weekends. That explains those reflexes. Thanks for watching this game. And now: 'Deal or No Deal: Office Fridge Edition.'

Matchday 2 — vs Miami Heart-Attack

86-105 (L)

You do not put the other team in the bonus this early. John the Baptist has to be smarter than contact that never had a chance at the ball. You can watch the math happen on that sideline: John the Baptist has four, there are big minutes left, and somebody has to hold the fort.

Marco Polo walks it up, two fingers in the air, and the whole offense shifts on his command. Right idea, no zip on it, and at this level Zeus either puts some heat on that ball or he keeps it in his hands.

Eight seconds off the shot clock and Marco Polo has not wasted one of them, the ball reaching Iron Man precisely where the play wanted it. Two defenders collide on the handoff and John the Baptist is gone, so Iron Man earned that one even if the box score disagrees. Court vision like that on the hermit is absurd. Whatever the day job pays him, the assist numbers say he is badly underpriced. Deep. Deeper. GONE. Iron Man drops it in from a spot the scouting report never even listed.

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.

The explorer is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. John the Baptist comes off the screen and the big man drops WAY back. Zeus just fades to the arc for the cleanest look of the night. Rises, releases, and Zeus sends the ball through the exact patch of sky where the rim is not.

Back to the locker room. Marco Polo punches his locker. Little secret: Marco Polo listens to Celine Dion to focus. I repeat, Celine Dion. And now, our halftime TV game show Fear Factor Lite! To win a scented candle that smells exactly like a bowling alley, text HOOPS to 555-0402 and answer this question: 'What is the wind speed inside a ceiling fan?' We're back! The coach drew stuff on the whiteboard, let's see if it works.

The superhero is the engine of a 10-0 run in front of a sold out arena! Somebody go check the schedule, this is not how the day was supposed to go!

The ball travels faster than five defenders can, and Marco Polo has known that all night long. Filthy. Absolutely filthy from Zeus, and the defender knows exactly what just happened to him. That is the shot chart lying to you. Zeus did everything right on this possession and has zero points to show for it.

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

You want basketball IQ? Ask the hermit, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. OHHHH that is filthy! Iron Man on the handoff and the man guarding it is still fighting over the top. Zeus rises up from fifteen feet and OHHHH, that rattled in and OUT!

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

Ejection. John the Baptist is gone for his part in that scrum while the officials sort out who did what to whom.

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

OHHHH, that one is going to leave a mark! Hulk gets flattened and gets the call.

HERE IT COMES! Every soul in this gym knows the ball is going to Iron Man, and it may not matter one bit. John the Baptist delivers on the second option, Marco Polo buries it, and the coach is already walking back to the bench like he knew. He did know.

Iron Man's eyes are glassy. Hulk mumbles 'we'll get them next time' without believing it. And here is the answer to our game Fear Factor Lite! Alvin Kluck of Cheese Ridge, Minnesota, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the wind speed inside a ceiling fan?' The answer was of course the same as outside it, only angrier. Alvin takes home a scented candle that smells exactly like a bowling alley! Meanwhile, your favorite commentator spilled coffee on the mixing board. Twice. We're wrapping up the mics. Up next: 'Chopped: Tupperware Lunch at the Office Edition.'

Matchday 3 — vs Orlando Magic-Beans

74-119 (L)

Swing, swing, and John the Baptist finds Marco Polo on the wing before the help can even turn its head. This is the counter: Marco Polo punished a defense that kept going under, and now they have to rip up the game plan. Two on the shot clock and the ball ends up with the superhero, which is how you get a twenty-eight footer off the wrong foot.

John the Baptist hands it off to Iron Man, slices through the seam, and the return pass is sitting there waiting at the rim. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Two points in every gym in America except this one, and John the Baptist is walking back with both hands on his head.

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

The explorer reads the screen perfectly, comes off shoulder to shoulder, and buys himself an open look. Veteran movement, rookie resume. The block is clean, the ball is gone, and Marco Polo is left staring at his empty hands like a man who lost his keys.

OHHHH, what a read by John the Baptist! He never even glanced at the rim and it is CASH on the other end. Watch the feet on Marco Polo there, still drifting sideways at the release, and that is exactly why the floater sails wide left of everything. Hustle play of the night so far. Iron Man gave up his ribs for one extra possession and the bench is on its feet. Iron Man crashes the glass, snatches that miss out of the air and hammers it home. Onions!

Pointing up at the family section, Iron Man 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.

Halftime. Hulk's hair is completely soaked, like climbing out of a pool. Little scoop: Hulk collects Pokemon cards. That Charizard is worth more than his first contract. And now, our halftime TV game show The Weakest Ankle! To win a laminated placemat showing every single county in Nebraska, text HOOPS to 555-0212 and answer this question: 'How many minutes are in a halftime that feels like forever?' Both teams return. You can tell the coach gave them an earful.

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

The explorer just flattened a man who had both feet planted. Charge, turnover, and a very quiet walk back on defense.

Clean feed from John the Baptist, nothing forced, just the offense breathing. Hulk holds it, waits, waits some more, then lets it go at the last possible instant to Iron Man flying by. That is a half-second window and he threads it. Oldest play in the book and it still works: Iron Man passes, the defender peeks at the ball, and that one beat is the whole possession. Baby hook by Iron Man, right over that outstretched hand, high off the board, count it.

Golf swing follow-through, perfect form, Iron Man 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.

OHHHH! Zeus met him at the summit and sent that thing into the third row.

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

SKIP PASS! Marco Polo fires it cross court to Zeus and the defense is dead in the water! Watch Marco Polo plant his feet, absorb the hit, and spring Zeus out of that corner in a blink. Not a hand on him. Zeus flat missed the bunny.

Bucket for Orlando Magic-Beans. Wide open look, and nobody even ran at the shooter.

Lazy feed into the middle, Zeus read it the whole way, and that possession is over before it started.

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

The hermit gets whistled for the swipe. Forty honest hours a week and here he is, picking pockets in front of twenty thousand witnesses. Nothing but trouble ahead for John the Baptist. Third foul, and this crew is calling it tight on both ends of the floor.

Marco Polo pulls his cap down over his eyes. John the Baptist doesn't have a cap, and it shows. And here is the answer to our game The Weakest Ankle! Delbert Yoakum of Cold Biscuit, Missouri, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many minutes are in a halftime that feels like forever?' The answer was of course fifteen, though eleven of those are purely spiritual. Delbert takes home a laminated placemat showing every single county in Nebraska! I drank so much coffee tonight I'm going to commentate in my sleep. That was beautiful. And now: 'House Hunters International: 90-Square-Foot Studio, Wall View.' A steal.

Matchday 4 — vs Philadelphia Injury-Report

92-122 (L)

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

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Marco Polo whips that pass one-handed on the move and the roll man gathers it through contact. Filthy. Zeus fires that thing at the backboard like it owes him money. No chance from the moment it left his hand.

The extra pass! Iron Man had the look, gave it up anyway, and Hulk buries it. BANG! Hulk gets to his spot in the lane, lifts the runner over the big man, and leaves it a foot short. No dice. The shot is short, and Zeus is the only man moving. He rips it out of the crowd and the possession lives. BAAAANG! Zeus rips the offensive board and puts it right back through!

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

Arm across the body, whistle, dead ball. Reach on John the Baptist. The best defender on this floor is headed to the bench with four. John the Baptist goes off with his hand still up, insisting he was straight up and down.

Halftime. Zeus glances at his phone for two seconds and puts it back. Little scoop: Zeus tried to bribe the DJ to play his song. The DJ agreed. Nobody liked it. And now, our halftime TV game show Let Us Make a Deal! To win a jar of pickles from 1997 with the label soaked clean off, text HOOPS to 555-0044 and answer this question: 'Why do referees always walk faster than everybody else in the building?' The players are back. Some look fresh, others... Not so much.

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

The explorer 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 superhero misses absolutely everything, and honestly, the nerve to even attempt that shot deserves something. Not points. But something.

Hulk absorbs the hit on the catch, gives up nothing, and now that possession is starting over eighteen feet from the rim. Everything starts with that release, Hulk hitting Zeus in full flight before the defense has even turned around. Somebody check that job title again: the superhero hanging in the air like the paint owes him rent, and finishing anyway.

That is the pass nobody puts on a highlight reel, and Iron Man makes it every single trip down the floor. Screen, roll, DELIVERY from John the Baptist! Nothing but runway to the rim! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! That was IN for Hulk!

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

Watch the spacing there, Marco Polo hits Zeus right in the shooting pocket and the possession stays alive. The superhero runs a dribble handoff with the timing of a fifteen-year vet. Not bad for somebody who does this on weekends. From eight feet Hulk puts way too much on it, and the ball clears the rim entirely.

Here is the part that never makes the highlight package: Marco Polo controlling tempo, burning clock, hunting the mismatch the second one shows up. From WAY downtown off the pop! Iron Man with the extra pass and CASH. So close. Marco Polo can only stare at the iron.

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

You can teach the jumper, you cannot teach the willingness, and John the Baptist gives up a decent shot every single time a better one exists. Rising into two defenders, Zeus launches a jumper that finds nothing but backboard and bad decisions.

Hulk takes off his shoes and carries them like a ghost. Zeus follows the same path. And here is the answer to our game Let Us Make a Deal! Herschel Bumgarner of Two Silos, Nebraska, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'Why do referees always walk faster than everybody else in the building?' The answer was of course because somewhere in that building there is a sandwich with their name on it. Herschel takes home a jar of pickles from 1997 with the label soaked clean off! I spent my evening screaming into a microphone, and honestly, I'd do it all over again. Thanks for the game! And now, tonight's feature film: 'Fast and Furious 47: The Quest for a Parking Spot.'

Matchday 5 — vs Phoenix No-Defense

81-113 (L)

Late rotation from Marco Polo, he arrives half a beat behind the drive and the contact is obvious to everybody in the building. Fourth foul on the explorer and he is headed for the bench. Longest break the man has had since he took that job.

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

The defense keeps turning contested looks by Iron Man into free points. STOP REACHING. Three dribbles, a deep breath, a nice smooth release from Iron Man, and then a whole lot of nothing.

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

OHHHH he went BACKDOOR! John the Baptist never broke stride and he has the ball UNDER THE RIM! Way short from John the Baptist off the bounce, the ball dies on the front of the rim and drops into traffic.

Halftime whistle! John the Baptist slides down against the hallway wall. Anecdote: John the Baptist once shot at the wrong basket during warm-ups. Nobody has forgotten. And now, our halftime TV game show The Big Spin Cycle! To win a toaster that only toasts one side of the bread, text HOOPS to 555-1057 and answer this question: 'What is the resale value of a game worn wristband?' Back on the hardwood. The tension has gone up a notch.

Laser from John the Baptist, corner to corner, and that closeout gets there about a second and a half too late. Off the pin-down comes the superhero with nobody inside a zip code. Somebody out there knows how to use a screen, and it is not who you would guess. Twenty-four seconds of standing around, and Zeus has to eat the last two of them. Possession wasted long before the shot went up.

Marco Polo slides, closes out, recovers. The ball goes all the way around the perimeter and comes back with nothing.

Push the pace! Marco Polo grabs it and hits Hulk in stride before the defense can even match up. A probe, a plant of the outside foot, and Hulk pushes off while his man is still fighting to recover his balance. The scientist tried the teardrop and never got it to the rim. Turns out soft touch does not come standard with that day job.

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

Two guys on the exact same page, Iron Man and John the Baptist, and the defense is left holding a bag of nothing. The superhero 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. No wasted motion at all from Iron Man. Both free throws split the net and the scoreboard ticks over twice.

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

The hermit just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. The superhero reads the screen perfectly, comes off shoulder to shoulder, and buys himself an open look. Veteran movement, rookie resume. The superhero just spun through two defenders and reversed that in. Nothing about this is a normal Tuesday!

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

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

OHHHH the pin-down! Iron Man pops out clean while the defender is STILL tangled up with John the Baptist. Brutal. Two points left on the floor by Iron Man, and those are exactly the ones that come back to bite you in the fourth.

Iron Man mutters while walking out. Zeus watches from the corner of his eye, worried. And here is the answer to our game show The Big Spin Cycle! Virgil Stanback of Buzzard Roost Landing, North Dakota, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'What is the resale value of a game worn wristband?' The answer was of course two dollars and a firm handshake. Virgil therefore wins a toaster that only toasts one side of the bread! Your favorite commentator survived. It's not much, but it's honest work. See you at the next game. In the meantime: 'MasterClass: How to Fold a Fitted Sheet.' Gripping television.

Matchday 6 — vs Los Angeles Nursing-Home

87-131 (L)

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

The explorer just froze a grown professional with a hesitation dribble. This man punches a clock and he is out here doing THAT. The explorer had that thing halfway down and the rim spat it back out. Nobody ever warns you that the iron has a personality.

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

That is the pass that beats a zone, and Marco Polo threw it before the help even committed. Oldest play in the book, and Zeus runs it in his sleep. That drop coverage never had a prayer. The superhero 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.

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

Halftime. Zeus throws his towel on the floor walking in. Fun fact: Zeus got rejected at a casting for a deodorant commercial. The irony. And now, our halftime TV game show Triple Dog Dare Hour! To win two pails of driveway sealer that have never once been opened, text HOOPS to 555-0405 and answer this question: 'How many peanuts are dropped on the floor of an average arena per game?' The players charge out of the tunnel. Smells like a comeback.

No hero ball here: Marco Polo takes what the defense gives and moves it along. Hulk turns the corner off the screen from Zeus, the help never rotates, and the lane is WIDE open! The superhero hammers a brick off the backboard so hard the rim is still shaking. Nothing in that resume prepared anybody for this.

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 hermit makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. Hulk comes flying off that screen and he is WIDE open! Stepback three from the scientist, ice in his veins. You cannot teach that, and apparently you cannot keep it out of the workforce either.

Hand in the air, hand in the air again, Marco Polo is calling for the rock on every trip and the defense has no answer for it. Four in a row for Marco Polo, so naturally he pulls up from the parking lot. Iron.

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

Textbook two-man game: Marco Polo keeps the dribble alive, forces the big man to commit, and John the Baptist rolls into an open runway. OFF THE IRON and halfway to the bench! John the Baptist missed that one with real conviction.

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

Full stop, full sprint, and the explorer is in the paint! Nobody back at the workplace is going to believe this one. Awful shot by Marco Polo with eleven still on the shot clock, off the front rim and out to the wing.

Five bodies moving as one, John the Baptist barking out every rotation, and there is not a crack anywhere in this thing. Snatched! Hulk came out of NOWHERE for that one.

Huddle is tight, marker squeaking on the board, and John the Baptist is already nodding before the coach finishes the sentence. BANG! Exactly the play on the clipboard: Zeus to Marco Polo, catch and rise.

Hulk has bags under his eyes that weren't there before the game. Iron Man has aged ten years in forty minutes. And here is the answer to our game show Triple Dog Dare Hour! Maureen Skaggs of North Fork Elbow, Idaho, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How many peanuts are dropped on the floor of an average arena per game?' The answer was of course four thousand and nine, not counting the ones nobody will admit to. Maureen therefore wins two pails of driveway sealer that have never once been opened! During the break, I tried doing crunches behind the console. My back remembers. That's it for tonight. Coming up: 'Nailed It: Cakes Ruined by My Mother-in-Law.'

Matchday 7 — vs Toronto Border-Patrol

99-124 (L)

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

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

Set called, Zeus waved out to the corner, and Marco Polo watches the spacing open up like a front door. Zeus rips it back into the stepback and suddenly there is a country mile between him and that defender. Long and gone. Zeus floats the teardrop over everything and bangs it off the back iron.

Ohhh no. Corner three, Toronto Border-Patrol in rhythm now, and our side of the building goes silent.

You want basketball IQ? Ask the hermit, who just moved the rock on time without one wasted dribble. Screen, pop, SPLASH! Iron Man kicks it out and that thing never touched iron. Unselfish basketball. Hulk passes up a good shot and hands John the Baptist a GREAT one. Nobody bothered to contest it, because nobody believed John the Baptist would shoot from there. Lesson learned the hard way.

Halftime. John the Baptist throws his towel on the floor walking in. Intel: John the Baptist asked Toronto Border-Patrol for their energy drink recipe. They refused. And now, our halftime TV game show Minute to Win It or Whatever! To win a bathrobe that is technically a curtain, text HOOPS to 555-0827 and answer this question: 'How many pairs of sneakers are hanging from power lines nationwide?' The players are back. Some look fresh, others... Not so much.

OHHHH the tension! Nobody is sitting, nobody is blinking, all of it rides on Iron Man. Call on the floor is overturned, that bench got its challenge right, and Iron Man steps out to inbound from the wing.

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

The explorer makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. That is vision. Iron Man sees the pocket open for a tenth of a second and puts the ball in it. Getting to his spot and elevating, Zeus 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.

Cross court, on a rope, from the hermit. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. Marco Polo drives, draws two bodies, and swings it one more time to the corner. That is the pass nobody is required to make. The scientist misses absolutely everything, and honestly, the nerve to even attempt that shot deserves something. Not points. But something.

Reverse it, make them slide all over again, that is how Iron Man breaks a shell down. The superhero pulls out the crossover of his life, and Monday morning he clocks in like nothing ever happened. Third look from distance for Zeus tonight and the arc keeps flattening out, tired legs writing checks the jumper cannot cash.

Oh my. Marco Polo did not even draw iron. Iron Man SKIES for it! Extra life for this offense. Kick out to Iron Man, one more to Hulk, splash from the wing and this bench is on its feet. The ball skips around the perimeter, John the Baptist finds the open man on the weak side, and Hulk buries it.

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

Somebody explain how the explorer reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. The defender planted his feet, and Zeus said thank you very much and drove straight through his front pocket. Prayer from Zeus. Not answered.

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

Zeus leaves the court at a jog. Hulk stays there, planted at center court, motionless. And here is the answer to our game show Minute to Win It or Whatever! Bernice Chadwick of Cabbage Patch Corners, Wisconsin, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How many pairs of sneakers are hanging from power lines nationwide?' The answer was of course two million and change, and not one pair matches. Bernice therefore wins a bathrobe that is technically a curtain! During the game, I counted how many times I said 'incredible.' Seventeen. A personal record. Thanks for watching this game. And now: 'Deal or No Deal: Office Fridge Edition.'

Matchday 8 — vs Minnesota Ice-Wall

74-118 (L)

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

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

That is a foot speed problem. Hulk keeps grabbing instead of sliding, and in this league that gets your coach a miserable night. The scientist sits down with four. You want to be furious, but honestly, he came here straight off a full shift.

SPIN and GO! Marco Polo pirouettes right through the traffic and comes out the other side clean! Marco Polo attacks the baseline, the big man steps up to meet him, and it does not matter one bit. FILTHY.

Marco Polo sets an invisible crown on his own head, adjusts it twice, and carries the thing off like it weighs forty pounds. The Minnesota Ice-Wall bench does not find it funny. John the Baptist pounds the crown down with one fist and steers him away before the technical arrives.

A explorer breaking down a professional defender in front of a sold out house! Remember that day job, folks! Textbook footwork, textbook release from Marco Polo, cruel result as it spins out and both teams go up for a contested board.

Halftime. John the Baptist wolfs down an energy bar in two bites. Did you know? John the Baptist has a personal mini-fridge in the locker room. Nobody knows what's inside. And now, our halftime TV game show Foul Line Confessions! To win a hood ornament from a truck that was never built, text HOOPS to 555-1098 and answer this question: 'Why does every gym in the country smell exactly the same?' We're back! The coach drew stuff on the whiteboard, let's see if it works.

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

The superhero makes the simple read look automatic. Clock out of work, clock in for clean basketball decisions. Screened, toasted, done. Marco Polo is loose and the defense is scrambling to find him. Pull-up from the elbow by Marco Polo, halfway down, spinning inside the iron, and it pops right back out.

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

Iron Man gets it on the reversal and now this defense is rotating, scrambling and losing ground, all because Marco Polo saw it a beat early. Follow the ball there: four sets of hands, Iron Man makes the last read, and the defense never gets set. That is training camp offense. Rim, backboard, none of the above from the superhero! Ladies and gentlemen, that is a person with a real job, and we have all just been reminded of it.

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

Marco Polo kicks it over to Zeus, no dribble, no drama, and this offense settles into a rhythm. The big rolls, the defense collapses, and Zeus punishes it with a read most guys never even see. That is the shot Iron Man wants every trip down the floor, it drops nine nights out of ten, and tonight is the tenth.

Handoff, turn the corner, BUCKET! Marco Polo did all the dirty work on that one. Perfect drop-off from Hulk, and Iron Man answers with... whatever that was. Off the glass, off the rim, and gone.

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

Total control. Marco Polo has this thing on a string. Straight down the baseline goes the hermit! Whatever shift he worked this morning, he clearly left plenty in the tank. John the Baptist takes two dribbles past halfcourt, rises from thirty five feet, and the net barely moves. Filthy.

The explorer just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. Second pass beats the rotation, Iron Man to Hulk, and the closeout gets there about half a second too late. Nobody drew up that arc. The scientist floated one halfway to the rafters, and the rim never even got a say.

Iron Man lets out a big exhale walking through the door. Hulk holds his in. And here is the answer to our game show Foul Line Confessions! Wendell Crabtree of Lost Mitten, Colorado, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'Why does every gym in the country smell exactly the same?' The answer was of course floor wax, popcorn, and forty years of accumulated nervousness. Wendell therefore wins a hood ornament from a truck that was never built! My chair squeaked the entire game. Everyone thinks it was me. It was not me. Until next time! Up next: 'Kitchen Nightmares: Corporate Cafeteria.' This is gonna be good.

Matchday 9 — vs Houston Blast-Off

83-110 (L)

Hand check on Zeus. That is a foul in this league every single time. Hands off, feet moving, no reaching. That is the entire instruction sheet for Zeus the rest of the way.

Ball moves. Iron Man to Hulk, on time and on target. Day job, then this: the scientist reads a rolling big like a coach with twenty years on the bench. Down, up, and gone for John the Baptist. The rim is just toying with him now.

That is the pass nobody puts on a highlight reel, and Marco Polo makes it every single trip down the floor. Screen, hesitation, delivery, Hulk drops it off perfectly for Marco Polo diving to the rim. Stuck holding it as the clock bleeds out, Marco Polo fades away from twenty-six feet, and it is not close.

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

Swing, swing, and Marco Polo finds Zeus on the wing before the help can even turn its head. The superhero just created his own space with a stepback. Somewhere a scout is spitting coffee all over his notepad. Long miss from the superhero and the rebound goes the other way, but let the record show that most people in that line of work never even get to take that shot.

End of the second quarter. Iron Man is breathing so loud you can hear it from here. Did you know? Iron Man launched a basketball podcast. Two episodes. Zero listeners. Still going. And now, our halftime TV game show Grand Prize Giveaway Extravaganza Deluxe! To win a wood chipper rated exclusively for grass clippings, text HOOPS to 555-1263 and answer this question: 'How many people in this country are named after a basketball game?' Both teams return with fresh instructions from the coach.

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 explorer. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. Everybody in the arena knew the stepback was coming from John the Baptist, and not one single soul could do anything about it. OHHHH the FADEAWAY! John the Baptist rises over the defender and it falls through.

Over the top of everybody. Iron Man to John the Baptist in the corner, wide open, catch and rise. Down screen, and John the Baptist curls hard into the middle of the floor with a full step of daylight. Easy read. Fifth possession this half where John the Baptist has been left to bail everybody out with the clock at zero. He cannot keep doing this alone.

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

Somebody explain how the explorer reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. Hulk crosses, crosses back, the defender slides half a step the wrong way and the whole arena lets out the same OHHHH. Gift wrapped by Zeus, and Hulk cannot finish the two footer. That one is going to sting.

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

The explorer just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. Unselfish basketball. John the Baptist passes up a good shot and hands Iron Man a GREAT one. OHHHH, that one died in the air! Iron Man put nothing into it and the front rim eats the floater.

The hermit lines one up from four feet behind the line and the rim rejects the application on the spot. Back to the day job on that possession. OFFENSIVE GLASS! Hulk beats three men to the spot! Court vision like that on the scientist is absurd. Whatever the day job pays him, the assist numbers say he is badly underpriced. Soft touch from Zeus, the floater drops right over the big man. Cash.

The hermit reads the screen perfectly, comes off shoulder to shoulder, and buys himself an open look. Veteran movement, rookie resume. The big man never even contested it, and John the Baptist still could not get the runner to drop. That one is on him.

Zeus stands alone at center court as the lights go dim. Hulk comes back to get him. And here is the answer to our game show Grand Prize Giveaway Extravaganza Deluxe! Ezra Bottomley of Grand Prairie Elbow, California, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How many people in this country are named after a basketball game?' The answer was of course four thousand two hundred, and a suspicious number of them were born nine months after a title run. Ezra therefore wins a wood chipper rated exclusively for grass clippings! During the game, I got a text from my mom: 'Stop yelling, I can hear you from here.' She lives 120 miles away. See you tomorrow! Up next: 'Extreme Reading: The Terms and Conditions.' 4-hour special.

Matchday 10 — vs Denver Horse-Track

80-125 (L)

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.

Hesitate, GO. John the Baptist is by that hip before the man even blinks. Textbook footwork, textbook release from John the Baptist, cruel result as it spins out and both teams go up for a contested board.

Cross court, on a rope, from the superhero. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. OHHHH, what a read by Marco Polo! He never even glanced at the rim and it is CASH on the other end. That is a forced shot from the superhero that was doomed the moment it left the hand, and the bench has quietly decided to look at the floor for a moment.

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

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

Halftime. The doctor examines John the Baptist's shoulder while the others catch their breath. Rumor has it John the Baptist talks to his basketball in the locker room. Nobody dares say it's weird. And now, our halftime TV game show The Bachelor of Science! To win a ceramic frog wearing tiny sunglasses and nothing else, text HOOPS to 555-0264 and answer this question: 'How tall would a stack of every whistle ever blown be?' Play resumes! The coach set a few things straight in the locker room.

Ten to nothing. John the Baptist is COOKING and there is not one answer on that other bench.

The box score will show nothing at all for the superhero, just a ruined shot and a shooter who will remember that wall all night. BAAAANG! John the Baptist throws the outlet ahead and Iron Man finishes through contact at the rim!

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

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

OHHHH the separation! Marco Polo just manufactured three feet of daylight out of absolutely nothing. It went halfway down! The ball sat in the cylinder, thought about it, and rolled off the far side on Marco Polo. Cruel.

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

Somebody explain how the explorer reads a defense faster than half this league. Whatever he does all day, it clearly involves thinking three steps ahead. Ball into Marco Polo at the elbow, John the Baptist plants his foot and goes backdoor, and the pass meets him in the air. Filthy. Rim out for John the Baptist, the crowd came up and sat right back down, and you can hear the groan from every corner of the arena.

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

Full stop, full sprint, and the hermit is in the paint! Nobody back at the workplace is going to believe this one. Nobody moved, nobody cut, nobody set a screen, so John the Baptist launches a contested jumper with the horn already going. Ugly offense.

That is the pass that beats a zone, and Iron Man threw it before the help even committed. The scientist just ran a give and go to perfection on national television! Somebody go tell his boss what he does after hours! Hulk blows the wide open layup!

Nine seconds to work with, one play call, and it runs through John the Baptist. When the game shrinks like this, you go to your guy. Sixty seconds in the huddle and Iron Man cashes it without a single wasted dribble. Textbook.

Iron Man freezes in his follow-through, wrist still hanging, and holds it while the Denver Horse-Track 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.

Zeus chews his nails on the bench. Hulk stares at his shoes like they're the source of the problem. And here is the answer to our game The Bachelor of Science! Bonnie Faye Gulick of Windy Gap, Wyoming, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How tall would a stack of every whistle ever blown be?' The answer was of course tall enough to be a problem for airplanes. Bonnie Faye takes home a ceramic frog wearing tiny sunglasses and nothing else! My evening in one word? Epic. In two words? Epic and loud. That's a wrap! Coming up: 'American Idol: Accountant Edition.' Singing, dancing, and spreadsheets.

Matchday 11 — vs New York Over-Timers

76-121 (L)

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

No roll this time. Marco Polo swings it right back to Iron Man above the break, and it is PURE. So close. Iron Man can only stare at the iron.

The hermit reads the screen perfectly, comes off shoulder to shoulder, and buys himself an open look. Veteran movement, rookie resume. The hermit tried the teardrop and never got it to the rim. Turns out soft touch does not come standard with that day job.

BAAAANG! Marco Polo sets the table and the pick-and-pop three goes down like somebody scripted it. In, around, and gone. The iron gives John the Baptist nothing. Nobody put a body on Iron Man and he made them pay, tipping it to himself and coming down with two hands in the trees. Second chance points for Iron Man, tipping his own miss straight back in before his feet ever touched the floor.

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

Halftime whistle! Zeus slides down against the hallway wall. Fun fact: Zeus tried to negotiate a 'mandatory nap' clause in his contract. Denied. And now, our halftime TV game show The Price is Wrong, Bob! To win a velvet painting of a raccoon in a tuxedo, text HOOPS to 555-0187 and answer this question: 'What is the middle name of the man who invented the folding chair?' Back on the hardwood. The tension has gone up a notch.

Peacemaker duty for Marco Polo, hands on his coach, steering him back toward the huddle before this gets more expensive.

Beaten on the glass again, and Hulk needs help down there.

The extra pass! Iron Man had the look, gave it up anyway, and Hulk buries it. BANG! Missed layup for the scientist and the whole arena groans as one. Great hands in the day job, apparently they do not travel.

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

That is the second personal charged to Iron Man and the bench is already staring at the clipboard. Foul trouble rewrites a rotation in a hurry. No argument at all. Iron Man claps once, hands the ball to the official and heads for the chair. Four fouls, night on pause.

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.

Across half court, a quick survey, a point to the weak side, and Marco Polo drops it off to Zeus on time and on target. This is the work that never shows up on a stat sheet, Zeus gets the credit and the guy setting the screen gets the bruise. Textbook footwork, textbook release from Zeus, cruel result as it spins out and both teams go up for a contested board.

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

Ball up the floor, change of speed right at the logo, and Marco Polo already has the defense a full step behind. The hermit pulls out the crossover of his life, and Monday morning he clocks in like nothing ever happened. John the Baptist attacks the paint, absorbs the bump, twists his body all the way around the defender and reverses it in. FILTHY.

Total control. Marco Polo has this thing on a string. Hard drive, hard stop, and Zeus retreats into an ocean of open hardwood. No touch. Zeus left the soft hands in the locker room tonight.

Zeus scratches the back of his neck nervously. Marco Polo has the look of someone who has seen things. And here is the answer to our game The Price is Wrong, Bob! Wendell Frobisher of Gravy Fork, West Virginia, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the middle name of the man who invented the folding chair?' The answer was of course Delbert, and the man himself never once sat down. Wendell takes home a velvet painting of a raccoon in a tuxedo! My evening in one word? Epic. In two words? Epic and loud. Thanks everyone! Up next: 'Ice Road Truckers: Uber Eats Delivery on a Rainy Night.'

Matchday 12 — vs Cleveland Twin-Towers

78-123 (L)

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 Marco Polo does. That is twice tonight Marco Polo has tried to create with the dribble already dead, and this league does not reward that.

They do not teach that in the explorer handbook, and yet here we are. Beautiful little exchange. The hermit 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.

Nobody told the hermit that a hot hand expires, and there he is launching from thirty feet with a defender draped all over him. Back to work.

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

The superhero throws up a prayer at the horn and it goes DOWN, and tomorrow morning he goes back to work like none of this happened. Both coaches are up off the bench pleading while the officials walk the Iron Man sequence back frame by frame. Dagger upheld! Release from Iron Man was legal and that scoreboard is not changing.

Chest bump so violent that Iron Man and Marco Polo 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.

Halftime whistle. John the Baptist flops into the first available chair. Intel: John the Baptist asked Cleveland Twin-Towers for their energy drink recipe. They refused. 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?' We're back! The players look fired up.

OHHHH the pocket pass! Marco Polo splits the coverage and the roll man is loose under the basket! Catching it right at the cup with nobody within eight feet, Iron Man goes up too strong and the ball rides high off the backboard.

Textbook two three with John the Baptist manning the back line, and they have not seen a clean look in three trips. The hermit out here on the deck fighting for loose balls. Nobody pays him for that, and he could not care less.

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

The explorer is out here running a pro offense with hand signals, not one hint of panic, and he clocks in somewhere else in the morning. Telegraphed. Zeus announced that pass three days in advance and the defense RSVP'd.

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

You can read it right off the scoreboard: not one point since the last stoppage, and Hulk is pressing badly now. A whole possession dies in the hands of the scientist without a single attempt going up. Back to the day job for a rethink.

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

Nobody is getting a hand near that. John the Baptist has all the room in the world. John the Baptist went for the deep heat check and produced the loudest silence of the night, roar to OHHHH in half a second.

Cleveland Twin-Towers 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 Marco Polo already has the defense a full step behind. OHHHH the separation! Zeus just manufactured three feet of daylight out of absolutely nothing. Somewhere a defender is explaining to his family why the superhero is going to be on the front page tomorrow morning.

Zeus 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.

Zeus bites the inside of his cheek. Iron Man pinches the bridge of his nose. 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! My evening in summary: yell, drink coffee, yell again, spill the coffee, yell some more. Good night everyone! And now, the show nobody asked for: 'Pigeon Hunters.'

Matchday 13 — vs Boston Ring-Chasers

75-119 (L)

Careless. Zeus had the entire frontcourt open in front of him and chose to reverse into a violation.

Nobody is getting a hand near that. Marco Polo has all the room in the world. Long miss from the explorer and the rebound goes the other way, but let the record show that most people in that line of work never even get to take that shot.

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

The explorer just froze a grown professional with a hesitation dribble. This man punches a clock and he is out here doing THAT. Three free throws for the explorer! That is the single most expensive mistake in basketball, and a person with a real day job just engineered it.

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

Halftime! Iron Man looks in the mirror and shakes his head. Locker room anecdote: Iron Man talks to a sock called 'Assistant Coach.' We don't judge. And now, our halftime TV game show The Chase But Everyone Is Walking! To win a milk crate full of cassette tapes with no labels, text HOOPS to 555-0853 and answer this question: 'What is the record for most consecutive high fives that missed?' Here we go again. The players have changed jerseys.

The scientist is running this zone like he has been drawing it up his entire life. Wrong career, my friend, absolutely the wrong career.

STOP AND GO! Marco Polo hit the brakes, hit the gas, and the lane opened up like a garage door. Catch, rise, splash. The explorer owns the cleanest jumper on this floor and still has a shift to work in the morning.

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

Laser from Iron Man, corner to corner, and that closeout gets there about a second and a half too late. OHHHH the separation! John the Baptist just manufactured three feet of daylight out of absolutely nothing. Third one of these from John the Baptist this quarter, third time the arc is wrong. The lane is not open real estate anymore.

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

The hermit 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 John the Baptist, and spits straight back out. That is theft.

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.

PICKED HIS POCKET! Marco Polo jumps the passing lane and he is GONE the other way! Marco Polo grabs it, turns, and slings a one-hander three quarters of the floor. Filthy. That is the kind of finish that changes a defense's body language, and Zeus has already done it twice this quarter.

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

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

A full spin move through traffic from the explorer! Whatever they teach in that trade, footwork is apparently part of it. Iron Man threads a BEAUTY to Marco Polo under the rim and... he lays it off the bottom of the iron! Ohhhh, no.

Zeus watches the crowd file out in silence. Hulk prefers not to look. And here is the answer to our game show The Chase But Everyone Is Walking! Otis Wagstaff of Empty Barrel, Nevada, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'What is the record for most consecutive high fives that missed?' The answer was of course forty one, set at a rec league in 1998 and never approached since. Otis therefore wins a milk crate full of cassette tapes with no labels! I learned backstage that Hulk also does explorer on weekends. That explains those reflexes. We're done for tonight. And now: 'Ancient Aliens: The True History of the Coffee Break.'

Matchday 14 — vs San Antonio Skyscrapers

78-123 (L)

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

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

Here is the part that never makes the highlight package: Marco Polo controlling tempo, burning clock, hunting the mismatch the second one shows up. Hulk eats the contact so Iron Man can run free along the baseline, and the catch-and-shoot look is right there. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! That was IN for Iron Man!

Shot clock violation! John the Baptist owns the nail, the middle is a no fly zone, and that possession just expired in their hands.

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

Halftime! Marco Polo looks in the mirror and shakes his head. Did you know Marco Polo started basketball because he was terrible at soccer? Sometimes failure leads to greatness. And now, our halftime TV game show Scrabble But With Numbers! To win a stack of forty three unread warranty cards, text HOOPS to 555-0736 and answer this question: 'How many numbers are on a jersey that has no numbers?' The players emerge from the tunnel. Stern faces, clenched fists.

OHHHH, what a read by Iron Man! He never even glanced at the rim and it is CASH on the other end. The scientist hammers a brick off the backboard so hard the rim is still shaking. Nothing in that resume prepared anybody for this.

Personal foul on the explorer. Somewhere a shift is going uncovered and not one soul in this arena cares. OHHHH the whistle! Number five on Marco Polo, and this bench cannot believe what it just saw.

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

Eight seconds off the shot clock and Marco Polo has not wasted one of them, the ball reaching Iron Man precisely where the play wanted it. Full stop, full sprint, and the superhero is in the paint! Nobody back at the workplace is going to believe this one. Shot clock at one, and Iron Man just has to throw something at the rim. Nothing doing.

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

Cross court, on a rope, from the hermit. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. The superhero turns clean out of two bodies in the paint. That is nowhere in the job description and yet here we are. Off the dribble, a full step behind the logo, straight down. Tomorrow the superhero goes back to work, tonight he owns this arena.

Beautiful footwork on that one from Marco Polo, the pivot foot never budges, which is precisely why the whistle stays in the pocket. The explorer 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.

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

Zeus 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.

Swing, swing, and John the Baptist finds Zeus on the wing before the help can even turn its head. OHHHH the pin-down! Zeus pops out clean while the defender is STILL tangled up with Iron Man. Brutal. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Zeus builds the whole thing from nothing. No screen, no help, three points.

Straight to the logo at center court, Zeus 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.

Hulk's gaze is cold, distant. Iron Man's gaze is hot, angry. And here is the answer to our game show Scrabble But With Numbers! Nadine Frankenberry of Pothole Junction, Iowa, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How many numbers are on a jersey that has no numbers?' The answer was of course one, and it is invisible, and it is a seven. Nadine therefore wins a stack of forty three unread warranty cards! I drank so much coffee tonight I'm going to commentate in my sleep. Good night! Up next: 'America's Got Talent: Mouth Noises Edition.' The judges are baffled.

Matchday 15 — vs Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest

90-134 (L)

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

Watch the change of pace from John the Baptist, half speed into full speed in one step, and that is a blow-by every time. A cruel spin-out for the hermit, and whatever that day job is, tonight it came with a brand new way to break your heart.

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

Whirl, and GONE! John the Baptist leaves the defender grabbing at a jersey that stopped being there half a second ago. Range like that bends a defense completely out of shape, and John the Baptist keeps proving the arc is only a suggestion.

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

Halftime whistle. Zeus has dried blood on his elbow but plays tough. I've been told Zeus once ordered a pizza during a timeout. The coach was not amused. And now, our halftime TV game show The Newlywed Timeout! To win a family size bag of off brand cheese puffs, text HOOPS to 555-0472 and answer this question: 'How far away can a scoreboard buzzer be heard by a dog?' The locker room empties, the court fills up. Act 2.

One little shoulder dip from Marco Polo and the guy guarding him turned into a traffic cone in real time. Marco Polo had that one all the way, perfect release, perfect arc, and the rim simply refuses to let it drop.

Foul on the three-point shooter, and it is Hulk. The coach is off the bench with both arms out. The scientist sits down with four. You want to be furious, but honestly, he came here straight off a full shift.

The superhero just moved an entire defense with one flick of the wrist. Somebody check that resume again. Screened, toasted, done. Hulk is loose and the defense is scrambling to find him. Somebody show the rest of the league what the scientist just did on that block. Footwork straight out of 1987!

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

Cross court, on a rope, from the superhero. In this league that pass earns a contract, and he does it on his night off. John the Baptist attacks the baseline and the ENTIRE defense has to rotate behind him! AROUND the cylinder and OUT! John the Baptist cannot believe it, and neither can this building.

Ball up the floor, change of speed right at the logo, and Marco Polo already has the defense a full step behind. A cut with that timing from the hermit? He is on the clock somewhere else all week and he still found time to learn the two-man game. From eight feet John the Baptist puts way too much on it, and the ball clears the rim entirely.

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.

A hermit breaking down a professional defender in front of a sold out house! Remember that day job, folks! Ohhh no. John the Baptist just walked. In front of everybody.

Dagger from Oklahoma City Treasure-Chest. You could hear the air leave this arena on that one.

Here comes John the Baptist sprinting off the elbow. Marco Polo slides it into his pocket and that chase defender is buried. Not a hand on him. John the Baptist flat missed the bunny.

Marco Polo and Zeus walk side by side without looking at each other. The silence is deafening. And here is the answer to our game show The Newlywed Timeout! Dewey Spillman of Frostbite Flats, Minnesota, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How far away can a scoreboard buzzer be heard by a dog?' The answer was of course three and a half miles, and the dog does not care for it. Dewey therefore wins a family size bag of off brand cheese puffs! Confession: I bet against my favorite team tonight. Superstition. It works half the time. That's all for today. Up next: 'Dateline: The True Cost of a Cup of Yogurt.' Deep investigation.