As the Sunday morning hoop session was winding down, I end up on a team with some young dude who isn't part of the usual Sunday morning crew. The first game, we won mainly off his 2-pointers that he was launching and another guy. Yep...he only passed to one other person on the team. Me trying to get open was basically pointless. I didn't touch the ball at all during the game.
So, the 2nd game starts. I don't even bother trying to get free; I'm just an on-court spectator. He dribbles towards me and gets trapped. There are two guys on him, and my man is on me. He makes the dumb pass and the ball is turned over. He says "You gotta keep going" or some ish. I'm like "I've been moving around all game (referring to the first one). Why don't you pass the ball? You have 4 other teammates."
Then he goes "This is why I don't play with girls." And repeated it!
Oh, nigga.
NIGGA!
I said "I'm no girl. I'm a grown woman. Watch your mouth."
For the rest of the game, he didn't say shit else to me. He was actually passing the ball to me. I hit a two and someone yelled "That's a grown woman right there!" Every time he made a dumb mistake I would yell "Damn, I hate playing with girls."
We lost the game.
But, I won.
Petty LaBelle
bka
K to the...
Showing posts with label hooper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hooper. Show all posts
Monday, December 14, 2015
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Basketball Chronicles: My Name is My Name
*Word to Marlo Stansfield*
I don't know what it is about Sunday morning hoop sessions that test my baby gangster...but it was tested once again this past Sunday.
It was the last or second-to-last game of the hoop session. A guy comes in to replace one of my teammates. One of my teammates points out everyone on our team:
Jerk: It's me, [name], [name], [name], and "the girl"
One of the NAMED fellas: Why does she have to be "the girl"?
Me: I have a name. It's Kenya.
Jerk: It's easier to say "the girl".
Me: No, it's easier to say "Kenya."
Jerk: He might not know who "Kenya" is.
Me: Everybody in here knows who I am. I'm the only lady in here on Sundays.
After the game, he tries to explain why he said "the girl."
Jerk: I said "the girl" because he may not have known who "Kenya" is.
Me: But my name is, usually, for a female. If he heard the name, he would think "Oh, the lady on the court."
Jerk: I wasn't thinking like that.
Obviously.
There is no logical explanation for referring to me as anything except "Kenya". Especially since I've been a Sunday regular the past year and a half.
Stupid ish like this is why I stopped hooping on Sundays, for about 3 months. I felt like my time was being wasted (If certain folk aren't on maugs' team, they don't want to play right) and my game wasn't being respected. Not only do I have to be strong, physically; I have to be mentally strong, as well.
K to the...
P.S. Young Money still has no post moves and still can't score on me. More proof that height and lifting weights don't mean ish if you don't know how to use it.
Swank!
I don't know what it is about Sunday morning hoop sessions that test my baby gangster...but it was tested once again this past Sunday.
It was the last or second-to-last game of the hoop session. A guy comes in to replace one of my teammates. One of my teammates points out everyone on our team:
Jerk: It's me, [name], [name], [name], and "the girl"
One of the NAMED fellas: Why does she have to be "the girl"?
Me: I have a name. It's Kenya.
Jerk: It's easier to say "the girl".
Me: No, it's easier to say "Kenya."
Jerk: He might not know who "Kenya" is.
Me: Everybody in here knows who I am. I'm the only lady in here on Sundays.
After the game, he tries to explain why he said "the girl."
Jerk: I said "the girl" because he may not have known who "Kenya" is.
Me: But my name is, usually, for a female. If he heard the name, he would think "Oh, the lady on the court."
Jerk: I wasn't thinking like that.
Obviously.
There is no logical explanation for referring to me as anything except "Kenya". Especially since I've been a Sunday regular the past year and a half.
Stupid ish like this is why I stopped hooping on Sundays, for about 3 months. I felt like my time was being wasted (If certain folk aren't on maugs' team, they don't want to play right) and my game wasn't being respected. Not only do I have to be strong, physically; I have to be mentally strong, as well.
K to the...
P.S. Young Money still has no post moves and still can't score on me. More proof that height and lifting weights don't mean ish if you don't know how to use it.
Swank!
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Basketball Chronicles: Ego
I am 5' 5 1/2" (Doctor claims I'm not 5'6". Hmph)...125 lbs...and I play basketball with men weighing 150 lbs and more on a weekly basis. Yess...everyone is bigger than me. Keep this tidbit in mind as the blogpost continues.
Lately, I've noticed lately how funny the male ego is on the basketball court. I've heard the dumbest arguments. But I find comedy in the male ego in regards to me. Now, I've told you my size...which leads to guys getting offended when I play D on them. I've heard a guy go "Are you serious?" In his eyes, if I'm playing defense on him, it means that I think I can take him...which means I don't think he's that good.
This is when my ego kicks in. Now, because you don't think I "deserve" to play D on you, I gotta 1) Prove to myself that I can stick you; 2) Light that auss up when I get the ball.
You'd be amazed by all the ish talked to me on the court. But when I say something back, it's "Oh, you're talking ish?" You damn right I am...and I'm gonna try my damnedest to back it up, too.
Ego...such a funny thing.
K to the...
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
#DatComfortWeight
The comfort weight struggle is real, in the streets, people!
Prior to my current relationship, I was 138lbs; well within my usual range of 135lbs - 140lbs. Then, I got comfortable. I wasn't being a bum and sitting around eating gyros and fries with mild sauce all day. Tempting, but no. I just didn't have a regular workout routine and I hooped sparingly.
When I joined a new gym, I was given a body assessment and boy were my feelings hurt. I was up to 147lbs, and the measurements I had when I bought my bridesmaid dress back in September or October had changed. I thought it was a fraud. However, I noticed my clothes weren’t fitting the same. Unless you’ve seen me naked or gave birth to me (she notices EVERYTHING about me), you wouldn’t have notice all of these changes. I gave away bags of clothes because I just didn’t feel comfortable in them; though they still fit me. Plus, I was moving and it was time for me to get rid of some clothes, anyway.
After that body assessment, I was committed to getting back in the gym like I used to. I wasn’t really focused on losing weight…just toning up and being healthy. In April, I had moved closer to my gym, so there was no excuse to be “lazy”. I went hard in April because I had that bridesmaid dress to fit in…COMFORTABLY. As a bridesmaid, it's important that I am able to eat and juke without feeling like I have to change out of that dress. Priorities, people! :-) Well, May 20th came, and the dress felt great on me.
The wedding festivities were over, but I kept the party going and continued to workout and hoop more. It helps having a beau who hoops on the regular. :-) So here I am, writing to you weighing 140lbs, as of yesterday morning. And I feel great.
Moral of the story? Playas f*** up!
LOL J/k
Ain't no moral. Just gotta keep on living. ;-)
K to the...
Prior to my current relationship, I was 138lbs; well within my usual range of 135lbs - 140lbs. Then, I got comfortable. I wasn't being a bum and sitting around eating gyros and fries with mild sauce all day. Tempting, but no. I just didn't have a regular workout routine and I hooped sparingly.
When I joined a new gym, I was given a body assessment and boy were my feelings hurt. I was up to 147lbs, and the measurements I had when I bought my bridesmaid dress back in September or October had changed. I thought it was a fraud. However, I noticed my clothes weren’t fitting the same. Unless you’ve seen me naked or gave birth to me (she notices EVERYTHING about me), you wouldn’t have notice all of these changes. I gave away bags of clothes because I just didn’t feel comfortable in them; though they still fit me. Plus, I was moving and it was time for me to get rid of some clothes, anyway.
After that body assessment, I was committed to getting back in the gym like I used to. I wasn’t really focused on losing weight…just toning up and being healthy. In April, I had moved closer to my gym, so there was no excuse to be “lazy”. I went hard in April because I had that bridesmaid dress to fit in…COMFORTABLY. As a bridesmaid, it's important that I am able to eat and juke without feeling like I have to change out of that dress. Priorities, people! :-) Well, May 20th came, and the dress felt great on me.
The wedding festivities were over, but I kept the party going and continued to workout and hoop more. It helps having a beau who hoops on the regular. :-) So here I am, writing to you weighing 140lbs, as of yesterday morning. And I feel great.
Moral of the story? Playas f*** up!
LOL J/k
Ain't no moral. Just gotta keep on living. ;-)
K to the...
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
"[S]he had game cuz [s]he used to hoop in Chatham..."
Anyone who knows me knows how much I love to play ball. When I was in grammar school, I said I'd be the first girl in the NBA.
Then the WNBA was established. So, in high school, I said that I would go to the WNBA. But, my senior year of high school, I wasn't recruited by any colleges to play ball. That didn't stop me. I tried out for the women's team when I got to Bradley University, and made it! But because I wasn't recruited and I was joining the team after my classes were chosen, I couldn't make all of the practices. So, I let that go and focused on living the college life and graduating. I still played when I got a chance.
A couple of years after I graduated, Chicago got a WNBA team! I was so excited, I emailed the team, inquiring about tryouts. But, due to the expansion (I believe), they weren't having any tryouts. It seems at this point, I had finally let the hoop dream go.
Well, yesterday I found out the Sky had tryouts for the upcoming season. I was so sad that I missed them. Though WNBA players don't get paid NEARLY as much as NBA players, it has to feel good to get paid for doing something you love! Even if it is for a few months out of the year.
What if I didn't make the team? Well, at least I could say that I tried, ya know.
So, I'll continue to work on my game like I've been doing. But, please believe, the next time I hear about tryouts, I'm in there like booty hair!
K to the...
Then the WNBA was established. So, in high school, I said that I would go to the WNBA. But, my senior year of high school, I wasn't recruited by any colleges to play ball. That didn't stop me. I tried out for the women's team when I got to Bradley University, and made it! But because I wasn't recruited and I was joining the team after my classes were chosen, I couldn't make all of the practices. So, I let that go and focused on living the college life and graduating. I still played when I got a chance.
A couple of years after I graduated, Chicago got a WNBA team! I was so excited, I emailed the team, inquiring about tryouts. But, due to the expansion (I believe), they weren't having any tryouts. It seems at this point, I had finally let the hoop dream go.
Well, yesterday I found out the Sky had tryouts for the upcoming season. I was so sad that I missed them. Though WNBA players don't get paid NEARLY as much as NBA players, it has to feel good to get paid for doing something you love! Even if it is for a few months out of the year.
What if I didn't make the team? Well, at least I could say that I tried, ya know.
So, I'll continue to work on my game like I've been doing. But, please believe, the next time I hear about tryouts, I'm in there like booty hair!
K to the...
Monday, September 20, 2010
Love & Basketball Chronicles: Hate Edition 9.20.10
Hello there, sports fans.
Time for another installment in “The Love & Basketball Chronicles: Hate edition”.
This post is about the "Young Meat". For those who didn’t read my blogpost on what a young meat is, here’s a quick review.
After a two week hiatus due to the basketball courts being closed, the gym is back open. So last week, as I was waiting for my game, I went off to the side to shoot some free throws. Well, this young gentleman, who we’ll call “Young Blood” decides to shoot around with me. No problem. Then, it turns into a series of free throw shooting contests, best out of 5. I’m thinking it’s all good (as in no flirting) because this Y.B. is aware of my age.
I was wrong.
So it gets to the tie breaking shot, and he goes “7-7-3.” I laugh it off like “I know he isn’t tryna ask for my number on the sly.
He was.
And he repeats it again. I wave him off, because I AIN'T GOING!!!
Before we left the gym, he says “You owe me!” I told him I owe him a Gatorade for losing.
Better to restore your electrolytes, rather than have your ego shattered by me NOT giving you my digits.
K to the...
Time for another installment in “The Love & Basketball Chronicles: Hate edition”.
This post is about the "Young Meat". For those who didn’t read my blogpost on what a young meat is, here’s a quick review.
After a two week hiatus due to the basketball courts being closed, the gym is back open. So last week, as I was waiting for my game, I went off to the side to shoot some free throws. Well, this young gentleman, who we’ll call “Young Blood” decides to shoot around with me. No problem. Then, it turns into a series of free throw shooting contests, best out of 5. I’m thinking it’s all good (as in no flirting) because this Y.B. is aware of my age.
I was wrong.
So it gets to the tie breaking shot, and he goes “7-7-3.” I laugh it off like “I know he isn’t tryna ask for my number on the sly.
He was.
And he repeats it again. I wave him off, because I AIN'T GOING!!!
Before we left the gym, he says “You owe me!” I told him I owe him a Gatorade for losing.
Better to restore your electrolytes, rather than have your ego shattered by me NOT giving you my digits.
K to the...
Friday, August 6, 2010
Hate & Basketball
What up yall! Welcome to the 2nd blogpost of the day. :-)
This is the 2nd installment in my chronicles on the court entitled "Hate & Basketball". I thought it would be ideal to share with my 5 readers my experiences at the gym.
Today, we're going to focus on the different types of guys I encounter at the gym.
1. The "Young Meat"
This is usually a young phallus-carrier between the ages of 16 and 23. He tries to holla, lowkey. It starts with a little flirting while on the court with me, then when I'm sitting down, he comes over and 99.999% of the time, the convo goes like this:
YM: What h.s. you go to?
Me: I graduated
YM: What college you go to?
Me: I graduated
2. The "Coach"
I put this in quotation marks because this person isn't a damn coach. He usually falls in the "Young Meat" category; but he feels that because he has a phallus, he has better knowledge of the game. Whereas, I have a vagina and don't know what I'm doing, besides run and make sure I dribble. He's usually the one saying:
"You've got to shoot more. Don't hesitate, just let it ride."
"I'm gonna set a screen for you and you're gonna shoot it"
"Let's run a play...Computer Blue"
Ok, maybe not the last line, but you get the point. How bout you shut up! I've been playing longer than you've been on Earth.
3. The "Underestimator"
Just this past Tuesday, my team was on a winning streak. During the 1st game, I was a bit sluggish since I hadn't hooped in over a month and was extra lax while on the court. So this "Young Meat" gets on the court and say "I'm gonna stick the girl. She's only gonna shoot...not much running around."
Ha!
I ran dude all over the court...and jizzed on him, dropping 3s all in his face.
4. The "Whiner"
This is the dude who is constantly complaining. I mean, I'm 5'6"...135lbs. You damn right I'm moving out the way when 6'12"...185lbs is charging towards the hoop, knees up. Negro gon' tell me "step in front him". What, and have a mastectomy & hysterectomy? I like my mams and uterus, thank you very much.
This is the 2nd installment in my chronicles on the court entitled "Hate & Basketball". I thought it would be ideal to share with my 5 readers my experiences at the gym.
Today, we're going to focus on the different types of guys I encounter at the gym.
1. The "Young Meat"
This is usually a young phallus-carrier between the ages of 16 and 23. He tries to holla, lowkey. It starts with a little flirting while on the court with me, then when I'm sitting down, he comes over and 99.999% of the time, the convo goes like this:
YM: What h.s. you go to?
Me: I graduated
YM: What college you go to?
Me: I graduated
2. The "Coach"
I put this in quotation marks because this person isn't a damn coach. He usually falls in the "Young Meat" category; but he feels that because he has a phallus, he has better knowledge of the game. Whereas, I have a vagina and don't know what I'm doing, besides run and make sure I dribble. He's usually the one saying:
"You've got to shoot more. Don't hesitate, just let it ride."
"I'm gonna set a screen for you and you're gonna shoot it"
"Let's run a play...Computer Blue"
Ok, maybe not the last line, but you get the point. How bout you shut up! I've been playing longer than you've been on Earth.
3. The "Underestimator"
Just this past Tuesday, my team was on a winning streak. During the 1st game, I was a bit sluggish since I hadn't hooped in over a month and was extra lax while on the court. So this "Young Meat" gets on the court and say "I'm gonna stick the girl. She's only gonna shoot...not much running around."
Ha!
I ran dude all over the court...and jizzed on him, dropping 3s all in his face.
4. The "Whiner"
This is the dude who is constantly complaining. I mean, I'm 5'6"...135lbs. You damn right I'm moving out the way when 6'12"...185lbs is charging towards the hoop, knees up. Negro gon' tell me "step in front him". What, and have a mastectomy & hysterectomy? I like my mams and uterus, thank you very much.
Every trip to the court has me either cracking up or side-eyeing until my ocular muscles can't take it anymore. But I love it...and I love the game. *shrug*
K to the...
Friday, June 11, 2010
Introducing...
Hey guys!
It's unofficially the summer here in the Chi. The hoodrats are out and the White Castle on 79th St. has been jumping.
That's right...summertime Chi!
Well, summertime seems to be when I hoop more than usual. I'm not being vain, but being one of the only cute, look-like-a-female females who be hooping at the Y, I encounter alot of guys trying to hit on me.
From 15 (yeah, I said it) to almost 40.
I decided I would blog share with my 4 readers what I see/hear/encounter when I'm at the gym. So ladies and gents, I introduce to you...
"Lust and Basketball"
Today's post starts with a guy who just doesn't take no for answer. We'll call him Possum Aloysius...or P.A. for short.
I've had my membership at this particular YMCA since 2005. I think I met P.A. back in 2006. This is when I was in my friendly stage. Ya know...give a guy number if he asks...chit chat on the phone as friends.
Well, P.A. was starting to become a bit too possessive for me. I mean, would get upset if I'm conversing with another guy while waiting for my "next"...or go play 1-on-1 with someone else (Will save the 1-on-1 stories for another post). Sir, you've never seen me in anything besides a Bradley Athletics t-shirt, shorts and Nike Shox. Go satcho auss down, nah!
Anywho, P.A. start getting a little crazy...talking to me any type of way, so I ignored his auss! He'll call...I wouldn't answer. After a while, he got a clue. *Praise Moses*
Fast forward to Spring 2009, I see him at the gym. He had moved to Iowa, but was still in Chicago on the weekends or...som'n. I don't remember...which shows how much I cared, right? Anywho, he apologize for what happened in '06 and then tried to make his move, asking if we can try again.
Try what, sir?
Um...no.
Fast forward to last month. Now when I see him, it's annoying. Everywhere I am, he just so happens to be near me. I'm sitting on the floor, dripping in sweat waiting for the next game, here he comes to talk to the guy running the court about some young negroid who he schooled a few days ago.
Sir, nobody cares.
Below is a conversation that we had the last time I went to hoop. This convo is going on as I'm shooting around, waiting for the next 5 to get on the court (My team was ON on this day)
P.A.: What are you doing when you leave here?
Me: Going to get something to eat, then going home?
P.A.: Can I take you to dinner
Me: No
P.A.: Why not?
Me: Because when I go home, I'm taking a shower, then going to sleep
P.A.: We can go out to eat after you take your shower
Me: No
*sidenote: gym doesn't close till 10. At this point, it's almost 9p*
P.A.: When can I take you out?
Me: I don't want to go out with you
P.A.: Can we exchange numbers again?
Me: No
P.A.: Why not? Because of last time?
Me: I'm just not interested
P.A.: Well, how bout I give you my number, then you can call me if you want.
Me: I guess
I made sure he didn't see me when I left the gym. lol
K to the...
It's unofficially the summer here in the Chi. The hoodrats are out and the White Castle on 79th St. has been jumping.
That's right...summertime Chi!
Well, summertime seems to be when I hoop more than usual. I'm not being vain, but being one of the only cute, look-like-a-female females who be hooping at the Y, I encounter alot of guys trying to hit on me.
From 15 (yeah, I said it) to almost 40.
I decided I would blog share with my 4 readers what I see/hear/encounter when I'm at the gym. So ladies and gents, I introduce to you...
"Lust and Basketball"
Today's post starts with a guy who just doesn't take no for answer. We'll call him Possum Aloysius...or P.A. for short.
I've had my membership at this particular YMCA since 2005. I think I met P.A. back in 2006. This is when I was in my friendly stage. Ya know...give a guy number if he asks...chit chat on the phone as friends.
Well, P.A. was starting to become a bit too possessive for me. I mean, would get upset if I'm conversing with another guy while waiting for my "next"...or go play 1-on-1 with someone else (Will save the 1-on-1 stories for another post). Sir, you've never seen me in anything besides a Bradley Athletics t-shirt, shorts and Nike Shox. Go satcho auss down, nah!
Anywho, P.A. start getting a little crazy...talking to me any type of way, so I ignored his auss! He'll call...I wouldn't answer. After a while, he got a clue. *Praise Moses*
Fast forward to Spring 2009, I see him at the gym. He had moved to Iowa, but was still in Chicago on the weekends or...som'n. I don't remember...which shows how much I cared, right? Anywho, he apologize for what happened in '06 and then tried to make his move, asking if we can try again.
Try what, sir?
Um...no.
Fast forward to last month. Now when I see him, it's annoying. Everywhere I am, he just so happens to be near me. I'm sitting on the floor, dripping in sweat waiting for the next game, here he comes to talk to the guy running the court about some young negroid who he schooled a few days ago.
Sir, nobody cares.
Below is a conversation that we had the last time I went to hoop. This convo is going on as I'm shooting around, waiting for the next 5 to get on the court (My team was ON on this day)
P.A.: What are you doing when you leave here?
Me: Going to get something to eat, then going home?
P.A.: Can I take you to dinner
Me: No
P.A.: Why not?
Me: Because when I go home, I'm taking a shower, then going to sleep
P.A.: We can go out to eat after you take your shower
Me: No
*sidenote: gym doesn't close till 10. At this point, it's almost 9p*
P.A.: When can I take you out?
Me: I don't want to go out with you
P.A.: Can we exchange numbers again?
Me: No
P.A.: Why not? Because of last time?
Me: I'm just not interested
P.A.: Well, how bout I give you my number, then you can call me if you want.
Me: I guess
I made sure he didn't see me when I left the gym. lol
K to the...
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