Bringing Fun Back Into Sports

I was 11 years old when our mother poked her head into me and my brother’s bedroom and said to come out, she had an announcement to make. We had been playing one of our made up games: basketball, on our knees, rolled up socks for a ball and, perched on the dresser, the support weighed down by books, a real metal basketball rim. Which, of course, would constantly fall on top of our heads. Bright fellas. How I made it to 9th grade before dropping out is still a mystery. XMASTIME

This guy HERE has the idea:

In northern cities, where the weather makes this annual game unplayable outdoors, the Timberwolves might host the Heat in a finished suburban basement, Nerf hoop suction-cupped to a paneled wall, every dunk doing new damage to the ceiling tiles, which rain dust down on all participants, rendering redundant LeBron's pregame cloud of talcum powder.

I won't even bother challenging baseball players to play our Coke can game, cause they're pussies.