The Big Ten Network: it's DUUUUNK-tastic!

On Wednesday of last week, I went to the IM building with my buddy Matt in search of something.  Was it fame?  Glory?  Was it a chance to get out of this godforsaken town and walk with the stars? For anyone who is completely in the dark here, just read this post.  Or scroll down.  It's up to you.)

Yes.  It was all three.  And my ticket to all of it was an appearance on the Big Ten Network's "Hoops on Campus" program.  The Network was hosting tryouts at the IM building for its 3-point shooting contest and its dunk contest, both of which would take place the next day on Thursday.  These were just the preliminary rounds meant to weed out the idiots who thought they actually had a shot at competing. 

I arrived at the IM building with Matt feeling pretty darn good.  I was disappointed I wouldn't have as much warm-up time as I would have liked, but I pushed it out of my head.  I was going to be on national television!  I just had to make a few 3's.  I had done it a million times before, how hard could it be?

Yeah...it was pretty hard.  I stunk up the 3-point contest.  Like, I think I made four of them.  Total.  It was horrible.  I was disappointed -- inconsolable, even -- until I had an idea.  It was a crazy, ridiculous idea, but it was my only shot at getting the one thing in the world I love: attention.

Lindsey, one of the producers at the show, noticed there weren't a whole lot of dunkers signed up to try out for the dunk contest.  And then she said those words I'll never forget:

"All we need to see is that you can dunk.  It doesn't have to be crazy or anything."

Wait, I thought.  I can dunk, if that's all they need...

Now, if you read last week's post, you know I'm no dunker.  Can I dunk?  Yes.  Can I DUNK?  No.  Not even a little bit.  But I was so caught up in the prospect of being the center of attention during an actual TV show that I said "why not?" and went for it.  I told her to put my name down on the list.

When my turn came, I did reasonably well.  I did a one-handed dunk, then a dunk where I came from the baseline and crammed at the front of the rim.  To top it off, I slammed home a two-hander, slapping the backboard for effect as I came down.

Of course, I had seen the other dunkers, including James and Seth.  I figured I had absolutely no shot.  So, I went and played a couple pick-up games, resigned to the fact that I had blown my shot at the big time.  

I was about to leave, when I noticed the whole crew was still in the gym, packing up for the night.  I figured it couldn't hurt to talk to them, to see if I had gotten in.  I talked to Lindsey, who said they had not yet made the decision.  Figuring I had no shot at making it on dunking merit alone, I decided to turn on the charm.

I told her I could be camera-ready in like, two minutes.  I told her I would shave and get a haircut -- just for her.  I told her I would blow her a kiss during one of my dunks.  I basically groveled.  And after about 10 minutes of this, as I was spelling my name for her for the 17th time, she finally said,

"You know what?  You're in."

And that was that.  A good lesson for the kids out there: if you can't get what you want based on merit, try sweet-talking (some would call it pathetic begging, but it's sweet-talking, ok?  Can we just call it sweet-talking?).

The events that followed have already been well-documented.  On Thursday, this happened:

And on Friday this ran in the Michigan Daily.

So what's the lesson from all this?  Is it really "stay grounded?" I don't know.  I found out that my dunks don't look half as cool as they feel; I found out that even when you have already publicly skewered yourself both online and in print, bitter people still make sure you know you failed on national television; I got a cool basketball for second prize, does that count as a lesson?

I guess the most important thing I learned was that I should stick to writing.  While I may not be better at it, at least the ligaments my left leg don't feel tighter than the skin on Heidi Montag's face after I write a long article.

A couple notes: go check out my buddy Zak's blog.  It may be dedicated to someone you have never met, but it's still pretty funny.  Also roll up to Everett Spencer's La Liga blog.  I'm not sure if it's been updated since March of last year, but it's definitely entertaining.  

Inn Crowd Forever

A-dunk-alypse 2010: The Horror

Let me set the record straight: I can dunk.  I can dunk with one hand, but two hands is easier because my hands are disproportionately small for my size (6-foot-4).  My ability to dunk is a microcosm of the various aspects of my life working for and against me athletically:  I am 6-4.  But I'm white.  I have long arms.  But I have small hands.  It goes on.  The point is I have worked very hard to make my pros overcome my cons as far as dunking goes.  As a result of this, I am left with the ability to dunk consistently -- I just need a game or two to warm up.

This is relevant not just because I am extremely proud of my dunking ability but also because the Big Ten Network is coming to Michigan as part of their "Campus Connection" program on Wednesday and holding tryouts for a dunk contest and a 3-point contest at the IM Building.  I was telling my sister about this yesterday because I had no valentine to talk to (yeah, loneliness!), and I told her I would be doing the 3-point shooting contest.  My sister's natural reaction, because of my near-constant bragging to my family and friends about my dunking ability, was, why don't you enter the dunk contest?

Of course, this would be a disaster.  Dunk contests are for dunkers.  They're for guys who can do windmills, tomahawks, essentially anything that requires a vertical leap higher than the width of the average credit card.  I am not one of those guys.  Me entering a dunk contest would be like Dwight Howard entering a 3-point shooting contest.  I'm sure he's made a few, but he should stick to dunking.  Just like I should stick to 3-point shooting.

This brings me to Saturday's NBA Dunk Contest.  

The contest wasn't just bad.  It wasn't just unentertaining.  It wasn't just eyeball-gouging ugly.  It was so bad it made me want to beat up a small child.  It was so unentertaining I would have rather watched an obese man filming himself dropping a deuce.  The spectacle was so saddening that I cried for three and a half hours afterward.  

The players looked like they were there as punishment.  The only remotely creative dunk was DeMar DeRozan getting his teammate to toss the ball off the side of the backboard for him to slam it home.  And that may have taken more skill on his teammates' end than his own.  

Probably the greatest disappointment was State product Shannon Brown.  It was pretty obvious he could get up the highest out of everyone, and he's also about 6-4, which is a great height for the dunk contest (not too short, becoming a novelty along the lines of this year's winner, Nate Robinson, but not tall enough so that his dunks don't look as awesome as they could).  I mean, Shannon Brown once did this, this and this.  You're telling me he couldn't come up with anything better than throwing the ball off the backboard?  Just a waste.  

But it wasn't just Shannon.  Every contestant was guilty of saving his "best" dunks for the later rounds, mailing it in early.  DeRozan's first dunk was nothing special.  And why was Gerald Wallace involved?  The dude is, like, 30.  He should've been in it five years ago when he could've done some real damage.  

The best part was, after every dunk, the analysts trying to hide their immense disappointment, even as TNT was showing the dunk over and over from all different angles so we could see exactly how boring each dunk actually was.  Just a really unfortunate night.  

If I could dunk like Shannon, I wouldn't ever walk -- I'd just jump around everywhere like Tigger.  Instead of calling a cab if I've had too much to drink, I'd just get a running start and leap to my apartment -- and I wouldn't use the door, I'd just jump through my 3rd-story window.  

The thing is, a lot of these young guys want to appear nonchalant about the contest because they don't want to be branded as just dunkers.  Take a look at this article, which talks about dunking as if it's some kind of curse:

Dunking is always going to be a part of him and that's OK.

What?  It's more than ok, that's awesome!  I wish dunking was always going to be a part of me, but I've become resigned to the inevitable: by the time I'm 35 or maybe even 30, my dunks will be urban legends that even my kids won't believe.  

I say, embrace the dunk.  It's the single coolest part of basketball and almost definitely the most intimidating non-violent move in sports.  If you're great at it, show it off in the contest.  I'm talking to you, Shannon.  Do it.

The Promise, DJ Joetry remix

"To the fans and everybody in Inn Crowd Nation, I'm sorry.  I'm extremely sorry.

We were hoping for an undefeated season.  That was my goal.  Also, it's the only way to play in Crisler and get those damn shirts.


I promise you one thing, a lot of good will come out of this.  You will never see a student in the entire University of Michigan work as hard to motivate himself to go to the gym more often the rest of the offseason.


You will never see someone call up James and Pat and Ryan and the Wills and Ashton and Matt to get them to come to the IM as often as I will the rest of the offseason.


You will never see a team play harder than we will next season.


Goddammit."


-Joe Stapleton
Sometime around 3pm today, 2010


In case you didn't recognize it, that is Tim Tebow's speech from the year Florida won its last title remixed Inn Crowd style.  The speech is now immortalized by a plaque on campus. My speech is now immortalized by this blog on the internet.  I guess the only difference between Tim Tebow and Joe Stapleton now is that I'm probably a better NFL prospect than he is.


Inn Crowd Stay Strong

The Unimaginable

Here are the facts:

-My Greek class was cancelled, which allowed me to sleep in until 12:30, missing my 8am shootaround.

-I had to do a ton of laundry, especially regarding my Inn Crowd jersey.  I'm all for keeping the jersey a little stanky to repel whoever's guarding me, but in this case I actually felt like I would have been endangering a man's life it smelled so bad.

-As a result of my laundry-doing, I was not able to get a haircut.  What can I say, it was a full day.

-Because of sleeping so late, I didn't feel like sleeping during the day, which left me no choice but to watch Michigan play Minnesota.  The Wolverines played great -- some of the most inspired defense and rebounding I've seen all year.  When the game was over, I went to the IM building.

I thought I was ready.  I was wrong.

The above was not to provide excuses for me laying an egg in our extremely embarrassing loss and second-round exit.  I don't really know what it was for, actually.  I was really just upset with myself that I missed the shootaround, to be honest.

The real reasons for our loss:

-Me.  I played timid, uncertain, ridiculous basketball.  As I said above, I laid an egg in our biggest game of the season to date.  James Nati made me look like a fool on more than one occasion, including two rebounds off missed free throws in a row.  The way I played was inexcusable and I feel like shit.  I really do.  I didn't go hard.  Cottage Inn, I sincerely apologize.

-The other team.  Nati’s squad outplayed the Inn Crowd, plain and simple.  Look, this is a group of guys who have been playing together for a long while.  I think three of their starters all played at Dexter High School.  These guys knew where the other wanted the ball, they new each other’s tendencies and they showed it by playing like a team.  I honestly can't overstate the importance of playing with your teammates on a regular basis.  These guys have played together for a long time, and it showed.

The Inn Crowd, on the other hand, has not.  James and I have been playing since 5th grade, and Pat and I played a little bit at the YMCA in high school, but I almost never play with Ryan, Ashton, Matt or Will.  And I had never played with Big Will before.  We played like a collection of individuals, which we were.  We were never a real team because we played together once a week for four weeks and that's it.  Until tonight, we had gotten by on a combination of size and talent and the other team's closest contact to organized basketball being brushing against Manny Harris in the Union one day.  This was our first real test, and we failed.

If this is the most depressing post ever, sorry.  I take these things comically hard.  I still haven't quite figured out how to deal with losing.  All I know is it feels about 8, 628,000 times worse than bombing a midterm (I know that feeling intimately), which should tell you something about my priorities.

I want to thank everyone who played with us.  Sorry we couldn't make it happen.

I would also thank everyone who read this blog, but I think we're going to keep it going.  It's been fun for me, and regardless it's a requirement in a sports management class Pat and Link are taking, so why not?  There will continue to be frequent updates, so keep dropping in.  There’s always next year (except after next year, there won't be, so we really need to get our shit together).

Sorry Coach Michos and sorry Cottage Inn.

        

Inn Crowd Stay Strong

Playoffs? game 2 preview

So I was just watching one of my favorite comedians of all time, Bruce Bruce.  It was his special on Comedy Central Presents, the one where he talks about his cousin buying an Escort, his uncle who laughs without smiling and a whole variety of other hilarious observations.  

At one point, he talked about getting stopped in an airport and getting his bags randomly searched.  The flight attendant looks in his bag and says, "What are you doing with 26 Subway sandwiches?"

Bruce Bruce later replies with, "I thought there was 28, check again," or something to that effect, but it doesn't matter.  Despite the obvious challenge of translating stand-up comedy to written form, I think you can see my point: going into this our first true playoff game, it's accurate to say the Inn Crowd has never really been challenged.

Really, our first three games were like Bruce Bruce against a single Subway sandwich -- the other teams (sandwich) were simply overmatched against the Inn Crowd (Bruce Bruce).

Tonight, that will definitely not be the case.  The Inn Crowd will be facing undoubtedly its greatest challenge of the season.  I don't know the name of the team we're playing, but I do know one of its members, James Nati, pretty well.  The former Dexter star has an impressive all-around game and a formidable crew playing with him.  To make matters worse, he's an Ancient Civilizations and Biblical Studies major, which means God is probably going to be on his side.

Even given that last point, in fact because of that last point, I like this matchup.  The Inn Crowd wants to play against the best, and who's better than God?  No one, that's who.  Except hopefully us.

The game is at 10pm at the IM Building at the corner of Hoover and State TONIGHT.  Bring your friends, family, pets, girlfriends, girlfriends' friends (I'm still searching for my valentine) and watch the Inn Crowd take the next step on its odyssey to Crisler Arena.  

Alpha Epsilon Pi: show some stones next time

During the regular season, the Inn Crowd played on Thursdays at 10pm.  Since I only have one class on Thursdays, that left me all day to come up with my own pregame ritual.  After deep deliberation, I came up with a pretty intricate and at times taxing ritual to prepare for a game that would, most of the time, be less taxing the ritual that preceded it.  Here's an average game-day diary:

8am: Wake up.  Regret not having done laundry.  Find underwear that doesn't make my eyes water.  Get dressed.

8:15am: Drive to the Ann Arbor YMCA for a pregame shootaround.  Unfortunately, the IM building doesn't open until 9, which is categorically ridiculous.  It's a gym.  It should be open at 5, 6 at the very latest.  But the maddening IM building hours is for another post.  And since I avoid the CCRB and NCRB like the plague for reasons that should be obvious, that leaves me with the YMCA.  I've been going to this gym since it opened when I was a sophomore in high school.  It's decent, with one full-length court and three smaller courts running across it.  But mostly, it's nice and familiar, nobody bothers me, and I'm almost always alone.  It's just a nice way to start a game day.

Now, shootarounds, at least those of the NBA variety, are in place mostly to make sure everyone on the team is awake and moving at 10am or so for a 7 or 8pm game.  Pretty reasonable, especially given the average nightlife of an NBA player (Stephen Jackson, anyone?).  The shootaround I chose to subject myself to this season was a full 14 hours before game time, but still it meant that I was sufficiently recovered from a hard night of studying and watching "Chuck" reruns online.  Hey, it's the life of an IM star -- I make no apologies.  

10am: Drive back to my apartment

10:30am: Shower (if the girl who sits beside me in my Greek class is lucky).

11am: Go to class (Greek 202).  Of course, as I usually am, I'm only there physically.  My daydreaming gets especially bad on game days, when I spend most of class picturing myself throwing down alley-oops, making LeBron James-esque blocks, and generally playing a lot better than I ever have or will.  Of course this means that when I'm called on to say something in Greek, I usually just mutter something like, "Den Xero (I don't know)," or "Oxi (No)."  These have become my two favorite phrases in the entire Greek language.

12pm: Get out of class

12:15pm: Get something to eat.  This is important.  Usually, I like to treat myself to something nice on game day, probably something from Noodles and Co. or Mr. Greek's (if I'm feeling breakfasty).  This is probably going to be the only thing I eat all day, besides maybe a banana or something right before the game.  

1:30pm: Haircut at Coach and Four.  I don't really know why, but haircuts just relax me.  Unfortunately, I don't have much hair to cut, so I usually just have them do something wacky to it, like shave in a mohawk, which is what I have currently.  Shout out to Jordan, my barber and the highest-flying white dude I've been around in a long while.   

3pm: Sleep.  This is also really important.  I do this taking into account the probability that I didn't get much sleep the night before (the 8am shootaround may have something to do with that).  God willing, I'll have nothing to do the rest of the day and I can sleep peacefully until...

8:30pm: Wake up.  Probably eat a banana, maybe with peanut butter.  I don't like to eat too much on game days because I always want to play hungry.

9pm: walk to the IM building.  This is one of the most important parts of the day.  I listen to the same song (Testosterone Manifesto by my boy Zan Deparry.  Check out his myspace page.) every time.  It's 12:54, which is almost exactly the time it takes me to walk from my apartment to the IM.  It's nice and jazzy, with dope rhymes and some definite funk.  Perfect. 

10pm: Gametime.  And the rout is on.

Unfortunately, with playoffs being on an entirely different schedule, it's hard for me to maintain the routine that I have become so comfortable with.  I was unable to wake up for the early-morning shootaround because I was up super late writing our first blog post and a story that was due in my English 323 class the next day.  Our first playoff game was Tuesday at 6pm, which threw a serious wrench into my plans to attend my English class that doesn't get out until 6.  This would leave me with insufficient warmup time, which I simply do not tolerate.  I was prepared to do unspeakable things in order to get out of class early, but all it took was an email.  My professor agreed to let me out a half-hour early, saying she didn't want to be the reason we lost.  Pretty cool.

So, after all of this, I finally get to the gym at around 5:40 (not a lot of time to warm up, but I'll take it).  Zesty J and Champlin are already in the building.  So I start shooting.  

Around 5:50, no one from the other team has showed up, and we have nearly the entire crew in the house (all except for Matty Ice, who sat this one out with an ankle.  He fell on the ice, which I thought was kind of funny and ironic). 

By 6pm (gametime), the other team still hasn't showed.  We elect to take wait the 10 minutes to allow them more time, but we all know it's probably a lost cause.

Then, James mentioned he found something on our bench when he got to the gym that may explain why the other team didn't show.  It was a letter from the Alpha Epsilon Pi fraternity, who we were scheduled to play that night in the first round of playoffs.  It read:

To the Esteemed Members of the Inn Crowd,

I regret to inform you that our basketball team will not be making it to the game tonight on account of pure, unadulterated fear.  We were able to peruse your blog this morning and we saw the grizzly footage from your previous game.  We saw the looks of terror, helplessness and regret plastered on the opposing players' faces.  We recognized them as the faces many young men leave our parties with.  We do not want to end up like them.  Please accept this letter as documentation of our unconditional surrender.

Sincerely, 

Your micro-balled, pencil-penised friends at Alpha Epsilon Pi

 In the wake of their surrender, the Inn Crowd went home that night with a win by forfeit.  We are already looking forward to our next game, which is (technically) TODAY at 10pm.  Luckily, the similar day and time to the regular season games will allow me to return to my game day routine.  More posts with details on the opposing team tomorrow, as well as a full playoff schedule.

But to conclude this particular post, I will say only this.  Alpha Epsilon Pi: grow a pair.

A Word From Our Sponsors

If you are reading this blog right now you are probably aware that The Inn Crowd is sponsored by Cottage Inn. You probably figured that out from the enormous banner at the top of the page or the fact that we represent hard, but since The Inn Crowd footprint hasn't expanded outside of our team it's more likely that I told you in person and you have one of our jerseys.

Anyways, I want to take this opportunity to share a few things about the history of our Cottage Inn sponsorship and the expectations we face when wear the prestigious Cottage Inn logo on our chests. The sponsorship's positive effect was felt throughout Ann Arbor, as one of the primary requirements for the sponsorship saved Michigan students and faculty from having to endure a 6"5 eye-sore.

"Let me know what the cost is and I will pitch in under one condition. Will needs to cut his hair, last time I saw him he looked like a hippie. That would be bad advertising."

Weeks later, Will cut his majestic "flow."

Although he argues it was unrelated to this request his decision left me temporarily with the uncomfortable burden of having the longest flow in the house. I have no prediction on how Joe Stapleton's mohawk will be received by the sponsors.

We owe our thanks to Cottage Inn, specifically Owner and Operator George Michos, for agreeing to sponsor our team. He is better known as Coach Michos to those of us who know him well and was an accomplished athlete once upon a time, winning a State Championship in Football during his time at Pioneer High School before returning to to coach.

Needless to say, he doesn't tolerate losing. (which is sort of ironic because he is currently the Defensive Coordinator for the Lincoln Railsplitters).

"Not to put any pressure on you or anything, but I only sponsor winners. If you don't make it all the way to Crisler then consider your sponsorship over."

The pressure is on and stakes are high.

In the building

Welcome to the Official blog of the Inn Crowd.  We are an elite collection of athletes and non-athletes united by one goal: to get those shirts that the Michigan intramural sports program gives to the team that wins its league.

I wish there was more time to go into our team philosophy, history, mascot, etc. but I have a short story due in two hours that desperately needs my attention so here's a quick roster breakdown:

Ashton Mullinix, aka All Day

James Bistolarides, aka JCB aka Zesty J

Pat Collins, aka Champlin

Ryan Meyers, aka The Spin Move

Matt Byrne, aka Matty Ice

Joe Stapleton, aka J Stapes aka Joe the Show

Will Heininger, aka Chip the Ripper

William Campbell, aka Big Will

We are playing in the men's Inependent B league.  Here's a video of our latest conquest (We're the ones in the awesome jerseys who don't look like 6th-graders):

Sorry the quality is so bad, it looked way better on the flip cam.  


The important stuff: our first playoff game is TONIGHT at 6pm at the IM Building at the corner of Hoover and Packard.  Invite your friends, family, love interests, whomever.    


Cottage Inn: the Greatest Pizza In The World