BASKETBAAAAALLLLL

Basketball, more than anything, makes me go crazy. At one point in my life, I could securely call myself a basketball fanatic. To do this day, when I step out onto the court, I become another person. It’s as if Amber Wantman’s basketball-playing alter ego is on a mission to avenge every wrong that has ever been done to the real Amber, and she will claim her vengeance through basketball.

So when Don Gilberto proposed that we form a basketball team last week, I of course was first on board. A few days ago, Gage (Swat class of 2011), Don G and I all went to El Coliseo (“colisseum,” sports complex) to find the guy and challenge him to an old fashioned showdown. Well, my patient readers, ask and you shall receive.

The basketball game was a lot more of a challenge than we had expected. Strolling into the court, our group of 5 and one half girls (the half being yesterday afternoon’s casualty, a sprained ankle during pregrame practice to be more specific) were expecting to see a group of 4 foot 6 inch girls that couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.

What we got, however, was a group of 5 footers (some taller) from the age of 13 to 15, that could sprint like mini mopeds. Our group, having the altitude to our disadvantage, was panting by the third minute of the first quarter (running time). What was worse, the girls scored the first three unanswered baskets on us because our defense was so discombobulated. Though I went over the positions of a two-three zone before the game, some of our girls were still confused as to when and on what side to set up defense.

So Coach Amber’s failings aside, I was extremely pleased with the game in general. In fact, if the refs hadn’t been so one-sided, and had our three point shooter not been encouraged to keep taking shots (despite not being square to the basket and heaving from three feet outside of the line), I am confident that we would have one our game.

And so as the clocked ticked away the seconds of the fourth quarter, our girls went nose to nose with the 14 year-old Otavalans. Their three point shooter would make an occasional three, and their post players would finess their way to a layup. But as our untrained yet extremely athletic team began to catch onto their plays, we stole passes and converted some layups.

In the final minutes of the game, we found ourselves down by four only to be greeted by a full court press. Breaking it with haphazard cross court passes, we motored up the court, and hit a shot off the board. As the Otavalans came back down our end of the court, I stole a pass and headed up the court to tie the game. Crossing past two girls, a benevolent force of some kind endowed me with super speed, and propelled me to the basket to make a left-handed layup. As the final seconds ticked down, we all thought we had achieved greatness. But in a fit of casual apathy (and exhaustion), we let an Otavalan jack a three pointer. To our dismay, the missle bammed off the backboard and swished down the net.

Though it was a crazy way to lose, it somehow made sense that after all of the illegitimate refereeing–the respective lack and excess of fouls called for us and the Ecuadorian girls, as well as the failure to call travel or charge or even out of bounds properly–a backboard three point shot by a girl who had been missing all game would prove to be the icing on the cake of an absolutely wild night of basketball.

To be Continued… (I have heard that next Tuesday is Rematch Day)