The Lone Ranger

With doomsday approaching, I write knowing full well that this could be one of the last things I ever do in my life and you, as the reader, could read this and at the same time look out the window to see meteors crashing to Earth or zombies attacking your house. At that point, you're better off finishing reading this because your life is over. That is, of course, unless you're one of those doomsday preppers who we've all laughed at on television and in that case, I'm coming to your underground "bug out" location and eating all your food (I've watched the show once or twice or like every episode). I'm not saying I believe all this doomsday bull, but it could happen even though the odds aren't good. In fact, the odds of the world ending tomorrow are about the same as Mark Sanchez actually passing the ball to his own teammates.

Its the first week of Christmas break practice, and for a townie it means I'm the only guy to show up for practice. Drey Mingo has been properly calling me the lone ranger for the past few days. When you're the only guy, you do a lot to kill time between segments where the coaches need you. Sometimes it could be half an hour before I'm needed for something, so I do a lot of nothing. Most of the time I sit on the bench seats and try not to be like Bobby Knight and toss one across the floor just for entertainment. Other than be a lazy ass, I do two things. One, I drink an unhealthy amount of Gatorade. You're probably wondering how this is possible since Gatorade is supposed to be healthy. Well, when you've drank so much to feel like you've just eaten a steak dinner, that's where the line is drawn. Today was a small victory because we got the blue Gatorade, and getting the blue Gatorade is worth some kind of celebration because I think the managers hide it and take it for themselves. So, I celebrated by drinking nearly all of it (water sucks, it really really sucks). I don't want to keep going with the blue Gatorade thing, but it's like the flavor of the month at an ice cream shop that you really like but only comes around like twice a year so you savor it by eating as much as possible. The other thing I do to kill time is just shoot around. Shoot around time is essential to my development as a practice player. The practice schedule allows time for the girls to work on their game, so I have to create my own time. Now, I'm not going to fool anyone and say that my shoot around time is productive, because its not. I spend most of my time shooting Dirk Nowitzki turn-around, fadeaway jumpers, banking in free throws, and imitating Larry Bird by shooting it over the backboard. In no way shape or form does this help improve my talent level. The only thing it may help is when it comes to playing h-o-r-s-e, or as Whitney Bays likes to play, h-o-r-s-e-s because she spells horse too fast. 

Instead of being a bum and doing nothing while I wait to jump in a drill and get elbowed in the face, I came up with somewhat of a bucket list of things to do when I'm the only RIP guy at practice. These things may be foolish, stupid, and just dumb in general, but I could really care less what you people think.

1. Trick shots 

Trick shots are usually saved for after practice, but since I would probably get kicked out of the gym if the team wasn't in there, I'd have to show off my talents during practice. Let's ignore the fact that I would interrupt practice and get yelled at by the coaches. The average person can stand in the bleachers and hit a shot, so I've decided to separate myself from the pack. The rafters in Mackey Arena don't look like the sturdiest place to stand which made them the obvious choice for the ultimate trick shot. As much as I would love to climb up there, sway my way across the catwalk, drain a shot and instantly become a campus celebrity, I have to realize one thing; I have an ungodly fear of heights. This fear can be explained by telling you I have to take a pill that basically puts me to sleep in order to get on a plane. So, me hitting a shot from the rafters would be more of a miracle than the 1980 US hockey team beating the Russians. 

2. Not show up for practice

To be honest, I've already accomplished this by not showing up yesterday. When I decided not to go, I kept saying to myself "It's a bold strategy Cotton, let's see if it pays off" (if you don't understand that reference, you've been caged your entire life and should go watch Dodgeball) Some of the players told me that I wouldn't have been used for anything and it was a good decision to not come. That's good to know and all, but I've got to tell you I probably did less on my day off than I actually do at practice. I would tell you all what I did but I'm not about to have people stalking me when this blog becomes more popular than Tim Tebow.

3. Play the band drumset

If any of you band people are reading this, it would be much obliged if you hid the drumsticks where your's truly could find them and shred on the drums for a while. If you do, I swear I won't make any jokes about you (in public). Every day we practice in Mackey I look up where the band plays and see the drum set just sitting there. I don't think the team would like it right away, but they would come to enjoy the harmonious sound of my drumming. It would be identical to the music they play during NBA games, except ten times better. On the other hand, I could sit on the drums and wait for either Camille Redmon or Liza Clemons to unnecessarily fall to the ground then play the comedic rimshot like at the end of a joke. One of them, if not both, will fall at least once per practice and it kind of looks like this:

Luckily for me, I only have about three weeks left of being the only RIP guy to be at practice. If you're a math person, that equals a lot of Gatorade, pointless shots, and riding the bench kind of like I would if I played for the men's team. To end, I have a message for the last minute Christmas shoppers, like myself. The best way to save money and make people happy is to wait until the day after Christmas, then buy what everyone would have wanted. Just tell them you lost the present and forgot to put it under the tree, they won't think twice about it.

Happy Holidays