Wally Szczerbiak Has a Nice Ass. There, I Said It!

I went to see the Cavs game last night (Cleveland Cavaliers vs. LA Clippers). I am sad to report that I am apparently not a true fan because I did not enjoy myself. Maybe my years or dare I say, decades, of watching basketball games on television has corrupted me or maybe my dislike for large groups of people and heavy traffic ruined the night before it began. Whatever the case, I sat in my seat with every intention of enjoying the game.

I’d like to take a moment here to say that, for the record, seats matter. I was almost as far up as you can be. I mean I couldn’t complain because the tickets were given to me, but still, my seat also played a role in my dissatisfaction. When you’re as high up as I was, you don’t really see faces on the court well. You see the warm ups and the shape of the player and you know who you’re looking at, but it wasn’t a special experience for me. I mean I saw a big bald head and was like oh Z is back, then I saw a mop of wild hair, oh there’s Varejao, then I saw little thing 1 and little thing 2, aka Daniel “Booby” Gibson and Mo Williams. Little thing 1 and little thing 2 are my personal nicknames for them inspired by Dr. Seuss, their small size and the irony of their jersey numbers. It’s funny how Daniel and Mo look so small on the court but tower over me in real life. Anyway, I saw them all and watched LeBron do his little powder thing, ooh exciting, I know.

The game started off on the wrong note. The guy next to me decided he wanted to sing the National Anthem with the children's choir. It’s bad enough when you sing along and you have a good voice, but this guy couldn’t sing. Once the game started, I realized that I had the great misfortune of sitting near an idiot. There was a woman behind me yelling at the players and trying to tell them what to do. If I was a more confrontational type of person, I would have turned around and said, ‘Look lady, they can’t hear you, so shut up!’ The irony is that she wasn’t the only person doing it. There was a child yelling at the players and telling them to shoot and steal the ball, but for some reason, I just found the child’s voice amusing. Every time the little boy said something, I smiled and wondered if he actually thought they heard him. The lesson here: some things are only cute when children do them.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with people yelling out things like, “oh man!” or things of that nature, but the lady was abusing the privilege. I confess that I sometimes say things to the television when I’m at home. Obviously the players can’t hear me and thankfully the television has never responded to me.

On a side note, about halfway through the first quarter I noticed Wally’s ass. I mean the rest of the players on the court had butts, but Wally had an ass. I’m not an ass man or something, I mean I don’t have a thing for butts, I’m just saying that Wally has a really nice one. I admit that I was distracted by it for a few seconds after I noticed it. At one point I realized that my eyes had followed Wally’s ass up and down the court a few times without paying attention to the ball. That realization made me laugh to myself. I mean I noticed on television that Wally was a thick guy, you know and well yeah, but the television cameras don’t follow Wally’s ass down the court, so I never had a chance to properly assess the situation (hehe).

I couldn’t be Wally’s teammate. I think I would slap his ass too much. I’d be like, “Hey Wally, what’s up?” (slap his ass), he’d miss a shot and I’d run over to him, “It’s okay Wally” (slap his ass), we’d be finishing a time out and I’d be like, “Let’s go get them, Wally,” (slap his ass). I mean I’d do it so much that things could only work out one of two ways: 1. I would get tired of putting in overtime just to slap his ass so I would start treating his ass just like everyone else’s (pun intended) or 2. He would notice the extra special treatment and say something about it.

I think our conversation would go something like this:

Wally: Um dude, I need to talk to you about something.
Me: Okay.
Wally: I don’t know how to say this so I’m just going to put it out there. I feel like you slap me on my ass a lot. I mean I know we all do it, but sometimes it seems like you go out of your way to slap me on my ass, and don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes it even feels like you’re giving me a little squeeze.
Me (playing dumb): Really?
Wally: Yeah.
Me: Well man I didn’t know it was bothering you. I just like playing with your ass, (then I’d look at his face to see if I could get a reaction out of him) but I’ll stop.
Wally: Thanks.
Me: Hey, no problem, if you don’t want me tapping that ass, I won’t do it. (Then I would give him a cheesy grin and laugh like it was a joke.) So is that all you wanted to talk to me about?
Wally: Um yeah.
Me: We still cool?
Wally: Of course.
Then we’d do the man hug and I’d slap his ass as we pulled back then raise my arms and act innocent.
Me: Sorry, force of habit.

Yes, I put some thought in to what would happen. I have a vivid imagination, so sue me.

I couldn't find a picture that did Wally's ass justice, so I decided to just post a nice picture of him.




Back to my rant:

Another thing I hated about the game was that I couldn’t move unless I said excuse me. I don’t like making other people have to stand just so I can move. I’d rather watch the game from home. I love the commentary, I love the way the game looks so much faster on television than it does in real life and I love the fact that I don’t have to deal with other people when I’m at home. That said, I would go to a Cavs game again, but I would have to have decent seats. I wouldn’t even take free tickets if it meant I had to sit where I was sitting last night.

I left before the game ended because I didn’t want to have to deal with the traffic. Now I can’t help but wonder what kind of fan am I? A true fan would be happy to be there and wouldn’t care where they were seated. A true fan wouldn’t bitch and moan about the traffic. A true fan would stay until the bitter end. So what does that make me?

Status: Relinquishing my status as a true Cavs fan.