Derek walked up to the speaker stand. He looked nervously around the dimly-lit room. Amongst the rows of old men in cheap YMCA basketball gear, a few people caught his eye; a huge goofy-looking white guy with an awkward-looking afro that seemed to have a life of its own, a black guy in a wheel chair twittering furiously on his blackberry who looks strangely like a horse and another white guy, balding and rocking tape all over his crooked nose… why is a grown-ass man wearing a Batman shirt?
“Hi my name is Derek and I’m… I’m a dirty player.”
“Wow, that felt… liberating. I feel like a whole new player. No more Flopping Fisher, from now on I play the game with integrity!”
Al Jefferson strips Pau Gasol, he throws the outlet pass to Corey Brewer, the Wolves are on the break. It was 3 against 1 and Derek’s first instinct was to get tied up with the trailing Johnny Flynn – he stopped.
“Just draw the charge. We’re leading comfortably, time to try something new!” He thought to himself. “Set your feet out of the restricted area and take the contact… no biggie, right?”