There is nothing like a rousing game of bump-out at zero-dark-thirty.
Now, for the uninitiated, bump-out is a shooting game where everyone stands in a line and the first person shoots. If the person behind the first shooter makes their shot before the first person sinks a bucket then they are out.
The ball is passed to the next person in line and if they make it before the person in front of them does they can put that person out. It goes on and on until there is just one person left who is declared the Bump-Out World Champion.
I’ve played bump – that’s what we called it growing up – since I was 9. We had a hoop on the garage and all the kids – anywhere from six to 15 of us – in the neighborhood would come to the house to play, and I was good.
Of course, at my house we were allowed to use our ball to bump the ball out of play, forcing an opponent to chase down their ball before they could shoot.
Early Monday morning I found myself forced to utilize the “bump” feature during a game of bump after the girls Midnight Madness practice.
Courtney Bay and I were the last two remaining shooters. Wow, can that girl shoot! She hit 8-of-10 from the free-throw line during practice earlier. She probably would have shot a perfect 10-of-10 except for someone’s (who shall remain nameless) big mouth talking about her perfect streak.
She’s such a good shooter I knew I stood no chance at victory without a little edge – so I bumped her ball across the court.
Next thing I know, three of her teammates grab my arms and hold me down while a fourth tossed my ball far enough away that it was impossible for me to retrieve and make a shot before Courtney put me out, depriving me of my much-deserved world title.
I tried to lodge a formal complaint with Chris Schofield, who was watching the game, but he claimed that he saw me held down by my age and not by anyone in particular.
I was robbed.