Tag Archives: Yard Dog Award

The Yard Dog Award – The Destruction of Steve’s

17 Apr

I noticed a message about an intramural tournament on our campus marquee, and it brought to mind an intramural tournament during my college days. It also made me realize that the experience from long ago deserved the Yard Dog Award.Yard Dog

My roommates and I spent several late nights playing pickup basketball. That, of course, means a couple of things. First, we thought that we were decent basketball players. Second, we were too nerdy to find more fun late night activities.

Anyway, some of the regular players thought it would be a good idea to form a team and enter the intramural basketball league. Robert, one of my roommates, and I did not think it was a good idea. We did not consider ourselves to be the next Michael Jordan and knew that the other guys, no matter how delusional they were about their own skills, were also not the next Michael Jordan’s.

The team was called Steve’s. I have no idea why it was called Steve’s. Apparently, somebody thought that would be funny. That should give you an idea of our sense of humor.

We agreed to show up for the first game with the understanding that we would only play in an emergency, like someone losing a leg. When we walked into the gym, Robert and I knew that we should have stayed home.

The opposing team consisted of Prop 48 guys. In other words, they had been recruited to our school to play basketball but had not qualified academically. Their pre-game warmup was a dunk contest, and we were practicing our set shots. Yep, the nerdy guys who played pickup basketball was going to play against a team of college players.

Heck, their coach even showed up wearing a suit. Our coach did not show up wearing a suit because we did not have a coach.

The game went as you would expect. I cannot remember the score, but it was definitely too many to not enough. It was, in eloquent terms, an ass kicking.

As the clock wound down, Robert and I were still sitting at the end of the bench. Then, a couple of our friends, who had survived this beating, convinced us to go into the game and let them off the hook.

We did the best we could. We played hard on defense. We actually got some rebounds. I even made a layup because the guy guarding me knew that it did not make any difference. Unfortunately, there was one guy on their team who had not come to that conclusion.

I had the ball and passed it to Robert at the top of the circle. There was no one around him, which meant that he had an open three-point shot. That is when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the players run at Robert from under the basket. He jumped and hovered like a helicopter. As Robert let the ball go, the guy hung in the air and waited. Then, he blocked it.

When I say he blocked it, I am not describing it properly. When he hit the ball, it sounded like a gun going off. When it hit the wall at the other end of the court, it sounded like a bomb going off. Oh yeah, the ball did not hit the ground in between. This guy blocked a three-point shot and it slammed into the wall at the other end of the court.

I cannot remember if Steve’s continued playing in the league because Robert and I never went back. We had taken part in one of the biggest blowouts in basketball history and were not about to repeat the experience.

With all of that being written, the Yard Dog Award goes to those who thought playing in the intramural basketball league was a good idea. An individual award goes to the person who thought Steve’s was a catchy name.

Tags: , ,

The Yard Dog Award – Lodging Fit for a King

29 Mar

A while back, I introduced the concept of the Yard Dog Award. Later, I presented the award to the first “winner.” During the past few days of recharging my blogging batteries, the next winner came to my mind.

In the mid-1990s, I was coaching a professional men’s softball team. That, in and of itself, is another story that I have touched on and will write about in the near future. However, this post is about a place where that experience led me.

We were scheduled to play in an important tournament in Cleveland, Ohio. All of the arrangements were set weeks in advance. Flights. Rental cars. Hotel rooms. We were good to go. All was smooth as we flew into the city and got our cars. Then, the plan went awry.

We drove to the softball complex to meet the tournament director who had handled our lodging. He booked rooms for us in a nice hotel, but we needed to meet with him before settling in. We pulled up to his office. Larry, the other coach who you have read about, and I went in to get everything taken care of. That is when the weekend went off the rails.

At the last minute, the nation’s top ranked team decided to play in the tournament. The director gave our rooms to them and booked us into another hotel. I was to ride with him to the new hotel while everyone else waited. We got into his car and drove and drove and drove. I noticed that the buildings we passed were getting dingier by the block. A bad feeling was emerging from the back of my brain.

Then, we arrived at the Camelot Inn, and it was a disaster. In the parking lot sat a couple of cars on blocks. The lobby was locked tight, and we could only talk to the desk clerk through bullet-proof glass. The top ranked team was staying in our rooms at a nice hotel while we stayed in a dump. Heck, we were ranked in the Top 10. It was not like we were some church league team.

I knew we did not have a choice, and I took the rooms. We drove back to the fields where everyone else waited on us. We had been gone a long time, and they were beginning to think that something bad had happened to me. They did not know the half of it. Something bad was going to happen to all of us. We were going to stay at the Camelot Inn.Camelot Inn

I tried to soften the blow, but the sight of the hotel shocked them. The neighborhood. The cars on blocks. Everything was bad. We climbed the stairs to the second floor and realized that the balcony was leaning. It was basically pulling away from its moorings and could collapse at any moment. It would have been nice if we could have moved to rooms on the bottom floor, but they were filled with people living in them.

I have stayed in some bad hotels, but this was the worst. As usual, Larry and I roomed together, but this was an unusual weekend. He refused to walk on the carpet barefooted and put his shoes on each time he got out of bed.

I like to think that I have a decent sized vocabulary, but I do not have the words to describe how bad the Camelot Inn truly was. However, that was not the only bad part of the weekend.

We easily won the first game, which put us on schedule to play the top ranked team. That would be the same team that was staying in our rooms. It was one of the worst beatings we had ever taken. They hit home run after home run. We could hear limbs breaking off trees as balls flew over the fence and threw them. One ball hit the scoreboard and scared birds that were nesting in it.

As they plated run after run, the score was getting embarrassing. Larry goes into some kind of trance and starts staring into the distance. To no one in particular, he says, “Boys, this is about to get ugly.” The high school girl who was operating the scoreboard replied, “Sir, I hate to tell you this, but it’s already ugly.”

After that beating, the rain started, and it did not let up. That meant we were stuck at the Camelot Inn with no games to play. That is when Bucky and Richie, our two best players had to take one of the young guys to buy some toothpaste. He had forgotten to pack some and needed a certain brand.

A while later, there was a knock at our door. We opened it, and Bucky was standing in the doorway. He was drenched and had a shocked look on his face.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?”

“We just got hit in the ass.”

“We know this is a bad neighborhood, but how did you let somebody do that to you?”

“I mean we got rear ended at a red light.”

They were sitting at a red light when a car barreled into them from behind. The front seats broke, and they were flat on their backs while rolling through the intersection. The one stuck in the back seat kept saying, “Damn boys!” Over and over, he kept saying it.

At some point, this horrible weekend came to an end. For starting this weekend in a disastrous fashion and putting us in the Camelot Inn, the Yard Dog Award goes to the tournament director whose name I have forgotten. However, I have not forgotten what he did to us.

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

The Yard Dog Award – Lights, Camera, Action

8 Mar

Last night, it hit me. I know who should receive the first Yard Dog Award.Yard Dog

Almost a year ago, there was some activity at a house in our neighborhood. When my wife drove by, she saw some activity. There were a lot of cars and people taking stuff into the house. My good friend who lives down the street saw the same thing. Unfortunately, I did not see anything because I was at our university’s graduation.

Anyway, they did not think anything about it. They could have been having a party or some other sort of get together. Well, a get together it was. The next week, my friend who lives down the street told me that they were filming a porn movie. Yep. They filmed a porn movie in our neighborhood.

Since that time, we have heard more about the story. The police were called. One neighbor went over and tried to beat someone up. Another neighbor called authorities and kept screaming, “It’s Sodom and Gomorrah! It’s Sodom and Gomorrah!”

Everyone was up in arms except for those of us who did not know what was going on until after the fact. If my wife and my friend had realized what it was all about, then they may have paid closer attention.

With all of that being said, the first Yard Dog Award goes to the people who filmed a porn movie in our neighborhood.

Tags: , , ,

The Yard Dog Award

3 Mar

There is an old saying in these parts that is used to describe someone who has done something that would not be acceptable in polite society.

“You are as common as a yard dog.”Yard Dog

I have heard it said many times, and it even became a contest of sorts for me and my college roommates. We came up with the Yard Dog Award, and the roommate who acted the most common that week could proudly display the trophy in their room. Yes, we had a trophy made. I have no idea who won it the most, but Robert, Greg, Chris and I all did our best to dominate the competition.

A few weeks ago, Robert and I went out on the town, and we started talking about the award. The main question was – “What happened to the trophy?” It is lost to the ages.

However, I have decided to resurrect the Yard Dog Award for this blog. Occasionally, I will find someone out there who deserves the trophy and explain why that is. This is just an introduction, and I have no one in mind. If any of you have a nominee, then please let me know. Surely, you know someone who is common enough to receive it.

Tags: , , ,