Secret recruit for Coach Tubbs

[PonyPride]

In an era in which altogether too many prized recruits head to the NBA without setting foot on a college campus -- and therefore, on a college basketball court -- SMU head coach Jimmy Tubbs has the inside track on a little-known recruit who can truthfully claim to have schooled new NBA Most Valuable Player Steve Nash:

Me.

Yes, it's true. I grew up a Maryland fan, but I will go on the record and say that the only school for which I'd ever suit up is SMU. If Coach Tubbs calls, I'm ready to suit up.

My historical butt-whipping of the Shaggy Sun actually came about as a result of my dedication to you, the PonyFans. About five years ago, I was at the gym (don't let my steroid-enhanced gut fool you -- I actually go once in a while). It was about a month before the Mavericks opened their training camp, and I saw Nash shooting hoops at the gym. When I came out of the locker room, I took (and mostly missed) some shots at the other end of the floor, wondering just how hacked off he'd be if I went over to talk to him. I like the way he plays, but I'm anything but a Nash fan. (Remember that note about me being a Maryland fan? I'm still a little bent over Nash single-handedly leading Santa Clara -- SANTA FREAKIN' CLARA? -- to a first-round NCAA upset over the sainted Terps.) But I had heard that SMU was considering whether or not to recruit his sister to play soccer. And while I was pretty sure he had no interest in being hassled by yet another would-be autograph seeker, I figured he might love the chance to talk up his sister.

Sure enough, he did. I told him about PonyFans.com (I'm sure he logs on every day), and said that I was curious about his sister. Sure enough, he talked her up like she was Freddy Adu with a PONYtail. (Ha! Get it?) His brother is a professional soccer player, and he grew up wanting the same career. He knows and loves the game (he and fellow soccer fan Dirk Nowitzki have been to a handful of SMU games). He clearly was (is) a very proud older brother, and said he would love to have his sister in Dallas, and talked about how he basically had tried to sell her on the idea. She had visited him before, and liked it here, but was reluctant to leave home. He assured me that he was doing everything he could to convince her to come to SMU. I told him that if she came to SMU, I wanted to do a story about her (always thinking PonyFans.com), and I wanted quotes from him and his brother, and a picture of the three of them juggling a soccer ball or somesuch. He said that would be cool.

So, not wanting to be another Nash-stalker, I told him I enjoyed talking to him (which was a lie -- I'm still angry about Maryland getting jobbed by Nash-led Santa Clara), thanked him for his time and went to work out. (No, really .... I did.) I went and put in the blood, sweat and tears that always emerge during the brutal workout that creates the Adonis-like physique of a sportswriter (think Chris Berman with a hairline that's quickly "getting back on defense.") When I headed for the locker room for 153 cups of ice water and a shower, Nash was shooting, just as he'd been when I started my workout. Some geek in Mavericks gear was rebounding for Nash as I walked by. Having seen me talk to Nash earlier, he asked me if I wanted to rebound for Nash. Rebound for Nash? Hell no. If it wasn't for him, Maryland undoubtedly would have won the NCAA title that year. I hate Nash.

So there I am, rebounding for Nash -- not sure how this happened, but there I was. He was very nice and appreciative, which was tough to stomach from a guy against whom I held a long-standing grudge. And then:

Nash: "You want to play?"
Me: "Play what?"
Nash: "One on one."
Me: "Sure. I also want to win the lottery."
Nash: "Come on, let's play."
Me: "Um .... you're in the NBA. I'm five years older than you, fat and I have no measurable basketball skills. When I was in high school, I (at a towering 6-foot-1) was the tallest starter on my team. We lost a game (admittedly to the top-ranked high school in the country) 181-12 -- seriously: 181-12. I'm terrible. No, I don't want to play."

So, being the swell guy that he is, he gives me the ball first. I'm tired, sore and -- compared to an actual athlete -- hideously uncoordinated. I am NOT thinking upset. I back in (my signature move) and he's laughing at me. Out loud. He doesn't know if I can make a layup, and already he's laughing at me. I basically back him into a racquetball court with my backside, making me look a little like Keith Chiles doing a pathetic version of the moonwalk. I bump him backward, almost off the court, turn and bury a highlight-quality layup. Picture a short, balding Eric Castro without the other-worldly athleticism and leaping ability.

I'm winning. I'm beating an actual NBA player. The same evil soul who single-handedly knocked Maryland from the NCAA Tournament a few years ago, and he can't handle my post game. I'm unstoppable.

Somehow he ends up with the ball. I don't remember him stealing it from me, but I'm sure he did. Or at least I assume he did. All I know is that I scored on him, I'm thinking about clever clauses to include in contract as the first sportswriter to be the subject of a bidding war between shoe companies, and the next thing you know, he's got the ball. And he's not giving it up. He hit jumpers over me (two points behind the stripe when you're playing one-on-one). He's driving past me -- repeatedly (all those announcers who say he's not fast are shameless liars. From my perspective, he seems like Carl Lewis being chased by predatory animals. Yes, he's even faster than an out-of-shape sportswriter. Did you know he could dunk? Neither did I. But I found out -- he can.

The final score (21-1, 21-0, 21-0) isn't what's important here. What's important is that I scored on the man named tonight as the Most Valuable Player in the NBA. Coach Tubbs, if you're in need of a recruit with that on his résumé, I'm your man .... and I've grown an inch -- there just aren't that many overweight, 6-foot-2 guards who can't shoot or defend out there. There are some wrinkles that need to be ironed out: I graduated over a dozen years ago, and I'm pretty sure I'm way past the NCAA age limit for athletic freshmen. But if there's a way to get me on the floor, I'd be happy to share my array of filthy moves with Hopkins and Willingham. Depending on which report you read, Bamba Fall might weigh as much as I do, and I'm sure that once he develops a gut like mine, he'll be unstoppable in the paint.

So that's it: I'm offering my services to Coach Tubbs and the Ponies. I love Maryland, but I'm not going there, even if Gary Williams calls me himself. Coach K doesn't need to waste a phone call. Roy Williams? I'm hanging up on him (I don't care how many players he lost to the NBA). Bill Self? Sorry -- I'm a PonyFan, and I'm a Pony, either as an alum or as a player.

Any coach can claim to have recruited a stud out of high school. How many can say they recruited someone who embarrassed a future NBA MVP? Give me a call, Coach Tubbs.

[originaloverthehilltop1]

never mind coach. probly nonqualifier.

[PonyPride]

HEY!
(How'd you know? )

[Corso]

That's pretty good stuff!

[PK]

Sadly...or is it luckily...PonyPride has used up his eligibility, but great story.

[Dooby]

About five years ago? So what, like 2000? Do you mean when Nash was battling ankle injuries and having one of the worst year of his career?

[SMULLET]

That's pure gold, Dooby.

[KnuckleStang]

Excellent story, Ponypride. (BTW, I handily defeated Popeye Jones in a game of "Horse" in 1995, and no one believes me to this day.)

[PonyPride]

About five years ago? So what, like 2000? Do you mean when Nash was battling ankle injuries and having one of the worst year of his career?

Oh, man, you're killing me!
But yes, that's probably when it happened. And I'm sure he was suffering from food poisoning and two torn ACLs at the time, too. I don't care if he was in a coma. By the time I die, this story will grow until I was throwing down monster dunks over Ben Wallace.

[DiamondM]

My husband once beat Steve Kerr in a game of HORSE while a ballboy for University of Arizona. At 6-4, with a wicked "Joe Tightshorts" double head fake, double pump, spin move, Tubbs can recruit him as a PF. He and PonyPride can be that dreaded 1-2 punch feared by all Conf-USA foes.

[Dirty Bird]

I know you, PonyPride, and you sir, aren't a basketball player.
Perhaps a burger taster, but never a hoopster.
Go Terps, Go O's and God Bless Earl Weaver.

[PonyPride]

Not true, my man. I'm an unstoppable player.
OK, maybe I'm not.
I'll still beat you, though.

[Water Pony]

Great post! My face is hurting!



Here is my story(ies):

(a) - I once beat Lance Armstrong on a long climb. Mt. Hood, OR
(b) - I had negotiated that the America's Cup would be raced on Lake Michigan, after we took it back from the Australians in 1985.
(c) - From Wrigley Field's right field Bleachers I watched Ernie Banks play as a rookie.
(d) - Laura Welch Bush, Jerry LeVias and I were classmates in 1968.

Which one is true?


Answer:

(c) and (d)


Go Cubs! Go Bears! Go Bulls! Go Blackhawks!

Go Mustangs!

[GrapevineMustang]

I'm going to say C is true.

And there's no way Nash can dunk!
(And even if he can, I'm not sure I'd admit getting dunked on by him! Great player, but a dunker? Come on, tell us you drew the charge or something. He's not exactly LeBron when it comes to leaping ability -- or height.)

[giacfsp]

One of the funniest posts I've ever read. Great story.