When I turn this goofy Colonial hat around, I'm like a MACHINE

Kimberly, "Staci" and I went to the BB&T Classic college basketball tournament at MCI Center in D.C. We milked Kimberly's George Washington student tickets a bunch the last two years, and had a lot of fun hanging in the rowdy, standing-room only student section. She snagged us some tickets to to the final round of the tournament on Sunday.

We got there early to catch the consolation game between George Mason and Michigan State. I noticed that there were a bunch of NBA scouts sitting nearby in our section; one from Toronto, one from Charlotte, and four or five others. They were taking sporadic notes on some of the more prolific players.

Later on, we're watching GW-Maryland, the championship game. It's a great game, very close all through the first half. I'm having fun, jumping up and down in the front of all the students. I'm wearing my blue Skechers sneakers (I'm trying to skew to a younger demographic), my favorite tan sweater, and a gray Colonials T-shirt over that. Oh, and the coup de grace: a goofy black Colonials hat, which I actually acquired at last year's BB&T Classic. I don't have a picture of it, but it's basically a cheap version of this:

Suddenly, one of the MCI Center employees ("Seth!") approaches me, and asks me if I want to compete in the JetBlue on-court promotion, in which you have to make a bunch of shots to win two free JetBlue tickets.

The key here, is, of course, that you have to do it in front of about 15,000 people.

And, the risk of accepting such a challenge is embarrassing one's self, and permanently shaming one's wife in front of a big crowd of merciless college hoops fans.

I, of course said yes.

My biggest dilemma, as I waited for them to bring me down to the court near the end of halftime, was whether to keep on the goofy colonial hat (I went with yes). I was concerned that, when I inevitably started throwing up bricks and airballs, that the (thousands of) Maryland fans in attendance would start booing, and I wouldn't hear the end of it.

The Terps made a run to cut GW's lead to one, right before the first TV time out of the half. Then, as they walked me out on to the court, the first thing I noticed was that the hoop seems much, much higher when you're on the court than when you're sitting at a higher level. I felt very short. But, I kept thinking back to the last time I had shot a basketball, which was last summer at the Y, and hoped that my arms could recall how to do it properly. I also remembered that I never seemed to be able to sink a damn thing in any of the pick-up games I had played.

They had a few circles on the court from where I had to shoot. Two layups, one from each side of the basket; one just shy of the free throw line; one just shy of the three-point line at the top of the key; and then a big rectangle marked "JetBlue", a good distance away and at a 45-degree angle from the hoop, definitely in NBA 3-point territory. All this in 45 seconds.

I had talked with the organizers about the young woman from George Mason who had participated in the same contest during the earlier game of the doubleheader. She had managed to sink the first four shots to move her out to the long NBA three, but she just didn't have the arm strength to get it anywhere near the hoop. They had been shouting at her to try it underhanded, but she just didn't, and she couldn't manage to get a good shot from that distance.

I gave a quick wave to Kimberly and "Staci" and got set for the first layup.

"Are you ready, James?" said the PA announcer. I nodded. "3... 2... 1... GO!!!"

...

Whew! Isn't this a great story?

...

First, I took the layup from the right with the right hand. No problem. I moved over to the left, and basically took a set shot right-handed, but missed a little too strong. I grabbed the rebound, reset the same way, and hit the second shot.

OK! So far so good, and not much time had elapsed. I backed up to the free throw line and took a shot, but missed off the rim to the left. As I ran to grab the rebound, Seth reminds me that there's a kid standing there to feed me the ball. "Oops," I thought. Oh yeah. I think I missed the next one too. But this time I remembered to stay put, and I managed to sink the next shot.

I backed up to the college 3-pointer circle. Let 'er rip. Swish on the first try! Unprecedented!

And I think, at this point, that I have to credit the high school football officiating I've been doing for helping me out in this particular life situation. I've been a line judge for four years now, and I've done 35 varsity games. And I've gotten to the point where I can be on the field and not let a crowd (or coaches, or players, etc.) affect me. I get a kind of tunnel vision on the field; I just pay attention to what I'm supposed to be doing, and ignore everything else. And I had that tunnel vision as I hustled over to the terrifyingly-far-away JetBlue NBA 3-pointer square... not celebrating, not listening to the crowd, not paying attention to how much time I had left. Just doing what I had to do.

Now it was crunch time. I flashed back to when I played a pickup game at the Omni, the old basketball arena in Atlanta. I think Big Pinz and I were covering some goofy fraternity fund-raiser game before an Atlanta Hawks game, and had finagled our way onto the court. We remarked at how it was more difficult to hit the long shots, what with the clear backboard and multi-colored seats in the background. And how those NBA three-pointers were just so very much further away than the college threes we were used to.

The ball boy fed me the first ball. I was so far away from the basket, I couldn't even use my regular shot mechanic; I really felt like I was forcing it up from the middle of my body, rather than from over my head. I heaved up the first shot, and it felt a little weak. It seemed to me that such a shot would look ridiculous if I could see it on TV; not the way Doug Christie would do it at all. I grabbed another ball from the ball boy.

Oh, but wait a second... THAT SHOT I JUST SHOT WENT RIGHT IN THE BASKET. I couldn't believe it. I JUST WON THE DAMN THING!

(This really, happened, I promise you. I wouldn't lie to you guys. I have eyewitnesses.)

Now the victory theme from Hoosiers is playing through my head. I think I danced up the court, elated, and pointed at Kimberly. Then I jumped up and down some more. Keep in mind I'm still wearing the goofy Colonials hat through all this, so I'm sure it all looked highly dignified.

I came back and high-fived all the ball boys. And all those Maryland fans were actually cheering, happy that somebody had finally taken JetBlue for some tickets and not embarrassed themselves.

I filled out the form for the plane ticket vouchers, which I'm assured will be sent to me post haste. Apparently I get two tickets to anywhere JetBlue flies (which, from Washington, consists of Fort Lauderdale, Long Beach, Sacramento, Oakland, and... ah, of course... Vegas).

I made my way back to the seats, high fiving various people and hearing random cheers. One of the NBA scouts in our section congratulated me; I told him that, if he's scouting me, he should mark me an upgrade on NBA three-pointers and downgrade on free throws. (He didn't look too amused. I thought it was funny.)

Oh by the way: I don't want to necessarily claim that my performance provided the spark that unranked GW needed to overcome the 12th-ranked Terrapins, but they did open it up after that, eventually winning by nine. Draw your own conclusions.

People kept recognizing and congratulating me on the street after the game. I still can't believe I won. I haven't had that much fun at a basketball game since...

(Yes, that's me and Pup at a Hawks-Hornets playoff game in 1998. Awesome. Funny, we were the only ones wearing makeup.)

So anyway... what did you do this weekend?

(P.S. I hope you enjoyed this furdell.com 250th post spectacular.)