The Rich Kid had gear that everyone envied. His sneakers cost $150. He wore authentic NBA and NCAA shorts to practice. His gym bag was bigger and more luxurious than your bedroom. Even his water bottle shamed yours. Which was appropriate because, while he dressed like an NBA player, his playing ability was close to water boy level.
Maybe his rich parents should have sprung for some instructional camps, too. Oh, they did? And a personal trainer, too? Wow, he was truly terrible at basketball.
While some kids watched Sesame Street or Baby Einstein as a baby, this kid was apparently raised watching AND1 Mixtape Tour tapes. He never saw a shot he didn't like and no one can remember if he ever threw one pass that wasn't a "no look" or behind-the-back pass.
He led the team in scoring, but he also led the team in shot attempts (by 150) and, if turnovers were tracked in biddy basketball, would have set a league record with 17.4 per game. But it's not how he filled up the stat sheet that everyone remembers. It's that one game when he had a breakaway layup and tried a 360 from the free throw line, only to airball the attempt 11-feet short of the rim.
There aren't many plays in biddy basketball. And they're not very complex. It's not exactly the triangle offense. Nevertheless, The Moron couldn't remember any of them.
He did one of three things:
1. Ran around in circles, bumping into people.
2. Stood there.
3. Acted like he knew the play by flashing to the lane or setting a pick every few seconds.
The Moron's basketball future went one of two ways. If he had talent, he would grow up to play in college (after sitting out a semester to get eligible). If he did not, he would grow up to be the GM of your favorite NBA team.
Poor, The Fat Kid. He didn't really want to be on the team. But his mom signed him up in a misguided attempt to have him get in shape. (Misguided because she also packed him Snickers bars to eat at halftime.) Instead of shedding some pounds and boosting his self-esteem, The Fat Kid just felt worse about himself thanks to his mercilessly tight jersey clinging to his doughy torso.
The thing is, The Fat Kid was one of the better players on the team. On the occasions he actually made it down the court, his body took up a lot of space in the lane and he grabbed more than his share of rebounds. He also scored a lot of uncontested layups because no one wanted to make contact with his slimy, sweat-covered body.
"Basketball is played by tall people. Come out of for the team, Tall Kid! You'll probably be great!" And so he did.
Unfortunately, no one in the history of the world has been both freakishly tall AND coordinated before the age of 15. So all this kid's height did for him was make his many failures stand out from all those around him. Thankfully, his season was cut short when his pediatrician found some sort of weird issue with the growth plates in his knees. And so ended his pursuit of the league's fouls and times-falling-down record. Too bad.