Schmoldt says:
When it comes to moments of rage on the basketball court, it's hard to top Ron Artest, Dennis Rodman or more recently, Kevin Garnett. But in the case of the biggest bonehead move, I'm going to have to be a homer and choose myself … but hear me out here.
When I was in high school, I didn't play high school basketball, but that doesn't matter — most of the people at my school played in CYO league, and I took some attention off my 3-point shooting and put some on to the fact that I could be an exploding mass of emotion.
We didn't win many games, so you can imagine my excitement when we were beating the team I most hated. Fast-forward to the fourth quarter, when I am playing the middle low spot in a 2-3 defense. I watch as the play develops and this unsuspecting 5-foot-3 kid gets the ball with an open look from the top of the key. Being 6-foot-3, you know I'm not going to allow this to happen.
Instead, I momentarily morph my then-lanky frame into a Dikembe Mutombo-like presence — it's not hard, since I have at least one foot of height and probably 60 pounds on this little guy. I couldn't have connected with the ball any harder, as I sent it the length of the court. There was no doubting it was a sweet block, but I didn't stop there …
I proceeded to stand over this guy like I was Shaq and he was Nate Robinson, and then let out a yell that would make James Augustine jealous. Seconds later, I look over to the ref, who in this game also happens to be my boss, as he just shakes his head and forms his hands into a "T."
Most call it boneheaded, I say it's the shining moment of my life.
McGrath says:
Not only does the greatest bonehead move in the history of basketball belong to none other than yours truly, but I also probably have a strangle-hold over the majority of the top five.
In my first high school game, I set the pace for the rest of my career.
On an inbounds pass just minutes into the half, I was as wide-open as stinky Bruce Pearl would be under the basket. I caught the ball, turned and missed a total bunny from 40 inches out. Good thing too, since I was shooting at the wrong basket.
I later learned that my coach said: "Oh my god, he's going to shoot it!" and called for a sub before I even laid hands on the ball. That's why he never made the big show … always a second slow.
Making the moment all the more embarrassing was that, A) it was a home game, and B) I had already done this feat before, two years earlier in a rec league.
Just to ensure the visiting team got their money's worth, when we had a rematch on the road later that year I managed to turn the ball over an astonishing four times in eight seconds. Ahman Green would be proud.
Sure, I was just a freshman then, but when I was a senior, things weren't much better. Midway through a summer league game, I exited the game and took a seat on the bench after being subbed out … only to discover a minute later that I indeed hadn't been subbed out at all and my team had four players. The same game I also threw a pass under duress to a wide-open referee.
But lets face it: Schmoldt's doofus doings shouldn't even be in the conversation, because he didn't even make his high school team.
