As a young boy, my father signed me up for several basketball camps. He even got crazy enough to send me to a shooting specific camp. All shooting. No playing.
The camp was at Flint Hill Prep School and was run by some famous shooting coach. They used video tapes and some kind of strange arm strap, to improve your shot. The shooting coach watched every video, and commented on each individual person.
All of this mattered to my dad. The only thing that mattered to me was that this shooting coach knew several NBA players, one of which would make a special appearance. The brochure mentioned many players that were stars in the league and the kids wondered which one would be the special guest on the last day.
Finally the day arrived and "without furthur ado, I present to you, NBA star Walt Williams" Damn. Who the hell is Walt Williams.
If the players in the brochure listed were foods, it would have said Candy, Cakes, Brownies, Brussel Sprouts. The Sprouts being Walt Williams. It was like a brochure for music camp saying that you will meet someone in Wham, and having the other guy show up.
Still, he was an NBA player, and a great thing to brag about to my friends. "I met an NBA player!" After Williams gave his speach about shooting, everyone lined up for autographs. I got my camp shirt autographed. This was great for one day, until my friends informed me that WHO CARES about Walt Williams.
The shirt sat in my closet for a few years before I tossed it. What a terrible special guest, and a terrible story...sorry.
Showing posts with label NBA Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NBA Stories. Show all posts
The Michael Jordan (Cards) Story
Written By Chris C-Ford ----
Back when I was in middle school, I was a big time basketball card collector. My collection sucked, mostly because I made terrible trades, and also because I liked to buy Topps or Collector's Choice. All of my friends had better, more valuable collections. (I actually went into a card store and asked if the guy had any Muggsy Bogues singles.)
So I decided to become a better collecter, AKA spend more money. Since I was a kid, I had no money. Any time my parents gave me some cash, I went straight to the card store. I recall stealing quarters from home and scrounging for every penny just to get my next pack. It was an addiction.
My friends & I would gamble for cards. Mostly playing horse at the courts, winner takes all. That is where I picked up most of my good cards.
After a while, my cards were much better. Instead of only having Muggsy Bogues, Larry Johnson, & Alonzo Mourning cards (i loved the Hornets), i actually had a small collection of Michael Jordan cards. My most "valuable" card was a $13 Antonio McDyess rookie card subset, which was had no value in trading with friends.
One day we were hanging at a friends, playing some pool, and some trouble happened. My one friend lost ALL of his cards at a game of pool. (Our bets got pretty heated up, hopefully we don't all go to Vegas) The guy was devastated. I felt terrible and I wasn't even involved. We had collected so long, and to lose ALL your cards.
So I made one of the worst deals in the history of the world.
Later: I played with the Laser tag ONCE after that day. It was pretty terrible. Not what I expected. Plus no one wanted to play with me. Sad face. That was the beginning of the end of my card collecting days.
So I decided to become a better collecter, AKA spend more money. Since I was a kid, I had no money. Any time my parents gave me some cash, I went straight to the card store. I recall stealing quarters from home and scrounging for every penny just to get my next pack. It was an addiction.
My friends & I would gamble for cards. Mostly playing horse at the courts, winner takes all. That is where I picked up most of my good cards.
After a while, my cards were much better. Instead of only having Muggsy Bogues, Larry Johnson, & Alonzo Mourning cards (i loved the Hornets), i actually had a small collection of Michael Jordan cards. My most "valuable" card was a $13 Antonio McDyess rookie card subset, which was had no value in trading with friends.
One day we were hanging at a friends, playing some pool, and some trouble happened. My one friend lost ALL of his cards at a game of pool. (Our bets got pretty heated up, hopefully we don't all go to Vegas) The guy was devastated. I felt terrible and I wasn't even involved. We had collected so long, and to lose ALL your cards.
So I made one of the worst deals in the history of the world.
- The guy who won the pool game returned the collection to the guy who lost.
- I gave all my Jordan's to the guy who won the pool game
- The guy who lost the pool game gave me his Laser Tag set
Later: I played with the Laser tag ONCE after that day. It was pretty terrible. Not what I expected. Plus no one wanted to play with me. Sad face. That was the beginning of the end of my card collecting days.
The Roger Mason Story
Written By Chris C-Ford ----
This is by far the worst story ever.
Back in high school, we played Good Counsel 3 times. This was always exciting because I would get 0 playing time and could watch 2 great players in Roger Mason & ? Monroe. I hoped they would go to the NBA so I could tell my friends I played against them, even if I didn't.
One of these games, the coach called my number. Surprised, but happy, I went into the game. What I recall from the game is playing for 15 seconds, picking up 2 fouls, and coming right back out. What my dad recalls is a little different.
Back in the present (ish) I came home from a big Wizards victory. My dad says, "How about that Roger Mason". I replied something like, "Yeah, How bout him"
Then he asks me If I recall playing against him in high school. Yes, I remember Dad. In fact I tell all my friends about it all the time.
Then he asks me, "remember when he took the ball away from you". This, I did not recall.
Apparantly I had blacked out the worst part of the story. In between getting those 2 fouls in 15 seconds, I apparantly picked up my dribble, and Mason ripped the ball out of my hands and went down the court for an easy 2 pts. According to my dad, "I looked like a weakling".
Thanks Dad!
Back in high school, we played Good Counsel 3 times. This was always exciting because I would get 0 playing time and could watch 2 great players in Roger Mason & ? Monroe. I hoped they would go to the NBA so I could tell my friends I played against them, even if I didn't.
One of these games, the coach called my number. Surprised, but happy, I went into the game. What I recall from the game is playing for 15 seconds, picking up 2 fouls, and coming right back out. What my dad recalls is a little different.
Back in the present (ish) I came home from a big Wizards victory. My dad says, "How about that Roger Mason". I replied something like, "Yeah, How bout him"
Then he asks me If I recall playing against him in high school. Yes, I remember Dad. In fact I tell all my friends about it all the time.
Then he asks me, "remember when he took the ball away from you". This, I did not recall.
Apparantly I had blacked out the worst part of the story. In between getting those 2 fouls in 15 seconds, I apparantly picked up my dribble, and Mason ripped the ball out of my hands and went down the court for an easy 2 pts. According to my dad, "I looked like a weakling".
Thanks Dad!
The Jarret Jack Story
Written By Chris C-Ford ----
I wrote this before, but here is a recap...
A few years ago I decided that I would visit my friend down in Atlanta. I booked a super cheap flight with a layover or 2. Anything to save a few bucks.
The first plane was delayed like woah. When I finally got on board, it seemed that the connection I had was going to be missed. Most of the people on the flight had similar thoughts. The guy in the seat next to me started to talk to me about the situation.
"CRAP" I thought to myself. I didn't want to talk. I wanted to not talk.
The guy was an older guy wearing a warm up suit and a Trailblazers hat. He was reading the box scores on the sports page. He talked about how his nephew Chris Duhon had a good game the other night at Duke. He then mentioned that Jarret Jack also had a good game the other night in the NBA. He then mentioned that Jarret Jack was his son.
I did not believe him. He seemed like a crazy obsessed basketball fan. The fact that he was claiming 2 NBA players was crazy. Also, why was he on this cheap ass flight?
I grilled him over as much as I could, and he passed the test. This actually was Jarret Jack's father.
He told me about the time that his son bought him an SUV, and about how Jarret & Duhon were cousins, and about family reunions and stuff. I told him about my glory days in High School where I "played against" (bench) his son at Palotti (which I didn't know about), and my other great stories.
After all the basketball talk, Mr. Jack told me all the ways to save money. Take cheap flights, try to get bumped, hope for flight delays. He was Carl Wethers in Arrested Development. ("A Loophole in the system Discovered by the wrong guy) He gave me advice on sending food back to the kitchen, complaining to management, and taking advantage of coupons. (not really)
When the flight finally got in to destination 1, everyone missed their connection. Mr. Jack told me to follow him, and I became his protege and he, my role model.
When a flight is missed, the airline gives you like a $10 voucher for a meal and a hotel room for the night. Mr. Jack was not satisfied. He went up to customer service, and when he came back he now had like $50 worth of dinner vouchers.
He then showed me another trick. He went down to customer service, who supplied us with a shirt, toothbrush, and other nessesities. I didn't even know that was an option.
I hung out with Mr. Jack the rest of the night and he constantly asked for my number. Said he would call me when in DC and we could go to the Wizards game together and I could meet his son. I never did end up giving him my number, kinda wish I did.
A few years ago I decided that I would visit my friend down in Atlanta. I booked a super cheap flight with a layover or 2. Anything to save a few bucks.
The first plane was delayed like woah. When I finally got on board, it seemed that the connection I had was going to be missed. Most of the people on the flight had similar thoughts. The guy in the seat next to me started to talk to me about the situation.
"CRAP" I thought to myself. I didn't want to talk. I wanted to not talk.
The guy was an older guy wearing a warm up suit and a Trailblazers hat. He was reading the box scores on the sports page. He talked about how his nephew Chris Duhon had a good game the other night at Duke. He then mentioned that Jarret Jack also had a good game the other night in the NBA. He then mentioned that Jarret Jack was his son.
I did not believe him. He seemed like a crazy obsessed basketball fan. The fact that he was claiming 2 NBA players was crazy. Also, why was he on this cheap ass flight?
I grilled him over as much as I could, and he passed the test. This actually was Jarret Jack's father.
He told me about the time that his son bought him an SUV, and about how Jarret & Duhon were cousins, and about family reunions and stuff. I told him about my glory days in High School where I "played against" (bench) his son at Palotti (which I didn't know about), and my other great stories.
After all the basketball talk, Mr. Jack told me all the ways to save money. Take cheap flights, try to get bumped, hope for flight delays. He was Carl Wethers in Arrested Development. ("A Loophole in the system Discovered by the wrong guy) He gave me advice on sending food back to the kitchen, complaining to management, and taking advantage of coupons. (not really)
When the flight finally got in to destination 1, everyone missed their connection. Mr. Jack told me to follow him, and I became his protege and he, my role model.
When a flight is missed, the airline gives you like a $10 voucher for a meal and a hotel room for the night. Mr. Jack was not satisfied. He went up to customer service, and when he came back he now had like $50 worth of dinner vouchers.
He then showed me another trick. He went down to customer service, who supplied us with a shirt, toothbrush, and other nessesities. I didn't even know that was an option.
I hung out with Mr. Jack the rest of the night and he constantly asked for my number. Said he would call me when in DC and we could go to the Wizards game together and I could meet his son. I never did end up giving him my number, kinda wish I did.
The Dave Hopla Story
Written By Chris C-Ford ----
Years ago I attended George Mason University basketball camp headed by Paul Westhead. Each day we had a guest speaker, including some NBA stars like Washington Bullet Doug Overton. (WOW!)
One day our speaker was not an NBA player, so all the kids were upset. It was a shooting coach that was going to teach us how to shoot. The guy came in and introduced himself and started to lecture about the importance of shooting. During his entire lecture, he swished foul shot after foul shot. He missed 0 shots in fifteen minutes, and was talking the entire time.
As the lecture continued, he switched to shooting one handed foul shots. Swish, Swish, Swish. He didn't miss one shot.
Next, he went into his gym bag and grabbed what appeared to be a baseball hat. This hat was a little different because there was a hand glued to the brim. The wearer of the hat could not clearly see out of it due to the giant hand in the face, hense the name "Hand In The Face Hat".
The shooting instructor put on the hat and began to drain jumpers from all over the court. I think he may have actually missed 2 shots with this hat on. It was really amazing. The entire time, talking and showing us how to use perfect shooting form.
Hopla is also responsible for helping inspire Gilbert Arenas to keep track of his shootings. His basketball shootings, not his locker room gun shootings.
So that wasn't an NBA player, but a coach, so yeah story over.
One day our speaker was not an NBA player, so all the kids were upset. It was a shooting coach that was going to teach us how to shoot. The guy came in and introduced himself and started to lecture about the importance of shooting. During his entire lecture, he swished foul shot after foul shot. He missed 0 shots in fifteen minutes, and was talking the entire time.
As the lecture continued, he switched to shooting one handed foul shots. Swish, Swish, Swish. He didn't miss one shot.
Next, he went into his gym bag and grabbed what appeared to be a baseball hat. This hat was a little different because there was a hand glued to the brim. The wearer of the hat could not clearly see out of it due to the giant hand in the face, hense the name "Hand In The Face Hat".
The shooting instructor put on the hat and began to drain jumpers from all over the court. I think he may have actually missed 2 shots with this hat on. It was really amazing. The entire time, talking and showing us how to use perfect shooting form.
Hopla is also responsible for helping inspire Gilbert Arenas to keep track of his shootings. His basketball shootings, not his locker room gun shootings.
So that wasn't an NBA player, but a coach, so yeah story over.
The Doug Overton Story
Written By Chris C-Ford ----
"Doug Overton? Who the hell is Doug Overton?"
Those were the words coming out of my 13 year old mouth ages ago at the George Mason University basketball camp.
My dad signed me up for the GMU camp and I looked forward to attending. I was especially excited after reading the brochure and seeing "Special Guest Speaker: NBA Professional Player TBD" This camp was going to be awesome! I was going to get to meet an NBA player!
Just to keep you excited about camp, they scheduled the guest speaker for Thursday, which for some overweight kids meant they would actually have to participate in some drills before having TBD sign their camp shirts.
All the kids tried to figure out who the NBA star would be, and the counselors were no help saying things like "I don't even know" or "It could be Chris Weber or Juwan Howard" Stupid counselors getting our hopes up.
Finally the day came and Paul Westphal was ready to announce the special guest. "The following guest is a great NBA player for the Washington Bullets...he did blah blah blah at LaSalle University...blah blah blah"
"LaSalle???? NOOOOOO He said Michigan right?????"
"Campers, let me introduce Doug Overton!"
As Westphal said these words the whole camp went silent. That's where "Who the hell is Doug Overton" was heard by hundreds of devastated young NBA hopefuls. A few kids actually knew who Overton was and seemed to be quite happy.
"Well, he is in the NBA, so that is pretty cool," I thought to myself. So I gave the guy a chance. And thats when Doug Overton ruined my life.
He comes on to the court and begins screaming. He yells at campers who are talking and tells everyone that basketball is not fun. It is hard work. It is not a laughing matter, and you must be serious at all times. He has volunteers do some drills and he screams at them because they havent' mastered it on their first try. He was not friendly at all and scared the kids the way a yelling principal at school scares kids.
After Overton's 20 minute lecture, all of which I forgot (unlike Dave Hopla's), he straight walked out of the building. He said "thanks" and made a be-line for the door. (if you think of Dane Cook here, you will be destroyed) No autographs, no handshakes, not even a glance. My dream to meet an NBA player (well my dream to brag to my friends that I met an NBA player) was gone, and I have nothing to show for it but this story.
Screw you Doug Overton...
Those were the words coming out of my 13 year old mouth ages ago at the George Mason University basketball camp.
My dad signed me up for the GMU camp and I looked forward to attending. I was especially excited after reading the brochure and seeing "Special Guest Speaker: NBA Professional Player TBD" This camp was going to be awesome! I was going to get to meet an NBA player!
Just to keep you excited about camp, they scheduled the guest speaker for Thursday, which for some overweight kids meant they would actually have to participate in some drills before having TBD sign their camp shirts.
All the kids tried to figure out who the NBA star would be, and the counselors were no help saying things like "I don't even know" or "It could be Chris Weber or Juwan Howard" Stupid counselors getting our hopes up.
Finally the day came and Paul Westphal was ready to announce the special guest. "The following guest is a great NBA player for the Washington Bullets...he did blah blah blah at LaSalle University...blah blah blah"
"LaSalle???? NOOOOOO He said Michigan right?????"
"Campers, let me introduce Doug Overton!"
As Westphal said these words the whole camp went silent. That's where "Who the hell is Doug Overton" was heard by hundreds of devastated young NBA hopefuls. A few kids actually knew who Overton was and seemed to be quite happy.
"Well, he is in the NBA, so that is pretty cool," I thought to myself. So I gave the guy a chance. And thats when Doug Overton ruined my life.
He comes on to the court and begins screaming. He yells at campers who are talking and tells everyone that basketball is not fun. It is hard work. It is not a laughing matter, and you must be serious at all times. He has volunteers do some drills and he screams at them because they havent' mastered it on their first try. He was not friendly at all and scared the kids the way a yelling principal at school scares kids.
After Overton's 20 minute lecture, all of which I forgot (unlike Dave Hopla's), he straight walked out of the building. He said "thanks" and made a be-line for the door. (if you think of Dane Cook here, you will be destroyed) No autographs, no handshakes, not even a glance. My dream to meet an NBA player (well my dream to brag to my friends that I met an NBA player) was gone, and I have nothing to show for it but this story.
Screw you Doug Overton...
The Joe Forte & Keith Bogans Story
Written By Chris C-Ford ----
Joe Forte was a huge high school basketball star at Dematha. He was one of the top players in the whole country and was on his way to the University Of North Carolina.
I was a junior, backup PG (the starter never came out ever) for my team and we were playing at Dematha. I figured there was 0% chance I would see the floor, as was the case against most of the teams we played. If anything, they would move the SG to PG to keep me off the court.
The lead changed several times and it was getting close to the half. Our PG just picked up his 3rd foul. My teammate on the bench next to me tapped me on the shoulder. According to him, the coach was screaming my name, and I was about to get in the game. CRAP.
I was charged with guarding their point guard, who rarely scored, which was nice. And they couldn't stop me with the full court press. I was playing well! Hooray.
At one point Joe Forte is dribbling the ball at the top of the key and my man sets a screen for him. Its about to be me vs Forte, one on one. As I switch over to guard Forte, he tries to dribble behind his back. I reach for it, and am totally broken ankled, but the ball hits his leg and goes out of bounds. TURNOVER!
Now, bringing the ball up the court I am pressured. I easily break the press with my speed and head towards the foul line. Pull up and shoot. Is what I should have done. Instead I jump, don't shoot, and throw the ball to nowhere before I land.
Nowhere happened to be into the arms of Keith Bogans, who was at the time headed to play at Kentucky. He goes down the floor on the open break and slams it in. ASSIST! I guess not...
Sadly, Forte never made it big in the NBA and is no longer playing...Bogans actually gets some playing time. But I'll never forget the time I stole the ball (didn't steal the ball) from an NBA superstar (from a bench player in the NBA)
I was a junior, backup PG (the starter never came out ever) for my team and we were playing at Dematha. I figured there was 0% chance I would see the floor, as was the case against most of the teams we played. If anything, they would move the SG to PG to keep me off the court.
The lead changed several times and it was getting close to the half. Our PG just picked up his 3rd foul. My teammate on the bench next to me tapped me on the shoulder. According to him, the coach was screaming my name, and I was about to get in the game. CRAP.
I was charged with guarding their point guard, who rarely scored, which was nice. And they couldn't stop me with the full court press. I was playing well! Hooray.
At one point Joe Forte is dribbling the ball at the top of the key and my man sets a screen for him. Its about to be me vs Forte, one on one. As I switch over to guard Forte, he tries to dribble behind his back. I reach for it, and am totally broken ankled, but the ball hits his leg and goes out of bounds. TURNOVER!
Now, bringing the ball up the court I am pressured. I easily break the press with my speed and head towards the foul line. Pull up and shoot. Is what I should have done. Instead I jump, don't shoot, and throw the ball to nowhere before I land.
Nowhere happened to be into the arms of Keith Bogans, who was at the time headed to play at Kentucky. He goes down the floor on the open break and slams it in. ASSIST! I guess not...
Sadly, Forte never made it big in the NBA and is no longer playing...Bogans actually gets some playing time. But I'll never forget the time I stole the ball (didn't steal the ball) from an NBA superstar (from a bench player in the NBA)
The DerMarr Johnson Story
Written By Chris C-Ford ----
The Washington Post today has an article about Wizard's hopeful DerMarr Johnson. That reminds me of a great story of mine...
It was the summer before my senior year in high school. Our starting point guard had graduated, and it appeared that I was in line for the starting job (yeah right). Since it was early in the summer, our team didn't yet have its entire basketball team imported from other schools.
So it was me and some other white guys, all who would be on the bench when the real talent was shipped in, and a few of the recruits from the previous year that did not graduate. Our team was in the Georgetown Kenner Summer League and our first opponenet was Oxen Hill (I think).
My dad told me that they had an amazing player being recruited by all the big colleges. His name was DerMarr Johnson. The NBA was in his future. I thought it was pretty sweet, and something I would later brag to my friends about, as this was the first NBA player I ever played against.
Although he was 6'9", he was a point guard. But at 5'9" there was no chance I was guarding him.
The game went pretty well, as we were only losing by about 40 points. I think DerMarr only had 2-3 windmill jams, all on fast breaks. I thought it was great. (don't tell the coach)
Late in the game, some screens were set, and all of a sudden I was matched up One on One vs DerMarr Johnson. I took a quick glance backwards and saw there was no help. Just a clear lane to the hoop. The crowd could sense the mismatch and the Johnson entourage in the crowd behind him was already laughing at how white & skinny I was.
I wanted to play about 10 feet off him, but didn't want to look scared. So I got up in his face. He easily brushed me back with a quick elbow. The crowd continued to laugh/get hyped. Then It Happened!
DerMarr launched up a three point shot.
I was very happy that he didn't drive by me and dunk the ball. I turned around, ready to box out. That is when I noticed that there was no rebound. There was no rebound because he did not shoot the ball. He had pump faked the ball over my head, and I now had my back facing him. As the crowd laughed hysterically, I turned back around. DerMarr, laughing himself, went by me as soon as I turned back around, and as I fouled him as hard as I could, he made a layup and the foul.
When DerMarr became an NBA player, this became a great story. Too bad he didn't turn out to be better than Jordan like he thought he would be. Can you imagine how awesome a story it would have been if Jordan did this to me.
It was the summer before my senior year in high school. Our starting point guard had graduated, and it appeared that I was in line for the starting job (yeah right). Since it was early in the summer, our team didn't yet have its entire basketball team imported from other schools.
So it was me and some other white guys, all who would be on the bench when the real talent was shipped in, and a few of the recruits from the previous year that did not graduate. Our team was in the Georgetown Kenner Summer League and our first opponenet was Oxen Hill (I think).
My dad told me that they had an amazing player being recruited by all the big colleges. His name was DerMarr Johnson. The NBA was in his future. I thought it was pretty sweet, and something I would later brag to my friends about, as this was the first NBA player I ever played against.
Although he was 6'9", he was a point guard. But at 5'9" there was no chance I was guarding him.
The game went pretty well, as we were only losing by about 40 points. I think DerMarr only had 2-3 windmill jams, all on fast breaks. I thought it was great. (don't tell the coach)
Late in the game, some screens were set, and all of a sudden I was matched up One on One vs DerMarr Johnson. I took a quick glance backwards and saw there was no help. Just a clear lane to the hoop. The crowd could sense the mismatch and the Johnson entourage in the crowd behind him was already laughing at how white & skinny I was.
I wanted to play about 10 feet off him, but didn't want to look scared. So I got up in his face. He easily brushed me back with a quick elbow. The crowd continued to laugh/get hyped. Then It Happened!
DerMarr launched up a three point shot.
I was very happy that he didn't drive by me and dunk the ball. I turned around, ready to box out. That is when I noticed that there was no rebound. There was no rebound because he did not shoot the ball. He had pump faked the ball over my head, and I now had my back facing him. As the crowd laughed hysterically, I turned back around. DerMarr, laughing himself, went by me as soon as I turned back around, and as I fouled him as hard as I could, he made a layup and the foul.
When DerMarr became an NBA player, this became a great story. Too bad he didn't turn out to be better than Jordan like he thought he would be. Can you imagine how awesome a story it would have been if Jordan did this to me.
The Gilbert Arenas Story
Written By Chris C-Ford ---- Tuesday, October 2, 2007
One day, about 2 years ago, my favorite NBA injured superstar Gilbert Arenas put a great offer on the internet. I could get an autographed shoe!
So I woke up at 4am, paid something like $25, and got a shoe in the mail.
Now I have a damn shoe at my house. What the hell am I supposed to do with it.
It may have also come with a XXXL jersey. Great, Ill hang that, nowhere. You are injured. Bah.
Thanks Gilbert!
PS: Give me the right foot shoe, so I have something I can use!
So I woke up at 4am, paid something like $25, and got a shoe in the mail.
Now I have a damn shoe at my house. What the hell am I supposed to do with it.
It may have also come with a XXXL jersey. Great, Ill hang that, nowhere. You are injured. Bah.
Thanks Gilbert!
PS: Give me the right foot shoe, so I have something I can use!
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