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.
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.
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.
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.
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.