I just committed a backcourt violation, and I have no idea what the fuck that is, or how I made it happen. The only things I see even remotely close to the backs of the court are the mascots, and I’m curious how either one of these hyperactive furries infringed on my ballgame.

The opposition are beating my shit like I’m missing payments, and for one shining minute I find myself with the ball. I decide to be real relaxed about my approach, and pass the ball around the D about 273 times. I’m looking for that finesse move, like a somersault slam dunk or some shit, but nothing presents itself. Suddenly a clock shows, and apparently I have a limited amount of time to shoot the ball. Panicked, I shoot a turd from the 3-point line which bounces twice off the rim and into enemy possession. Some tall drink of a motherfucker by the name of Dwight Howard jumps about 17 feet and dunks the ball onto my forehead. I shut down my XBOX 360 and sit in the dark for a few moments. People in the next room think they hear me sobbing, but they’re probably full of shit.