Daredevil or Dumbass?In my March Badness blog, I mentioned my favorite radio program is Boers and Bernstein on The Score, 670-AM in Chicago. On Fridays they feature a segment called, Friday Fung. Yes, the "g" belongs there. Each week, they change the topic. Some of the best are, Imaginary Sports Radio, or Mundane Sports Achievements, but those aren't my favorite. My favorite is Daredevil or Dumbass?
How does it work? Callers share tales of when they risked life and limb. Most stories are sports-related, but that's not a requirement. Following the call, the two hosts and their producer cast their votes to determine if the caller was, in fact, a daredevil or a dumbass.
Let's try. Here's a personal story from high school.
During high school, the basketball rim in my parent's driveway was set at the regulation 10-foot mark. Standing 5-foot, 5-inches at the time, I didn't have a chance at dunking a basketball. Well, not through conventional means anyway. Most of my friends lowered their rims to 8- or 9-feet. Cue the brainstorm sound effect. If we grabbed the wooden stool off the patio, we could run, jump and dunk the ball. Brilliant.
Yes, it was brilliant...until my sophomore year. Since the weather was immaculate, and we had a school break, I invited some friends over to shoot hoops. You know, HORSE or 3-on-3. After a few guys arrived, we decided to grab the stool. My friends did their best Michael Jordan and Dominique Wilkins routines. I settled for matching Spud Webb. Each dunk looked cooler than the one before. For my next attempt, I decided to do a reverse.
I remember running, jumping and leaping off the stool. Next, I turned and brought the ball over my head. I felt the ball go threw the rim. As I started to land, I realized my finger was tangled in the net. Rather than land of my feet, I started to angle parallel to the driveway. I felt my finger loosen from the net. From what I can gather, 85% of my body landed in the grass. The other 15% hit the edge of the driveway. I remember hearing a small crack. Certainly, I must have landed on a twig or branch in the yard. I jumped up, brushed myself off and grabbed the ball.
"Ready for some 3-on-3?" I asked.
Everyone agreed, so we started raining threes and passing the ball. Each time I caught a pass, I noticed my elbow would lock. Just a touch at first. After 10 or 15 minutes, my elbow locked at a 90-degree angle. I told everybody to go home because I needed to call my Mom. After a trip to the hospital, I found out that I had a hairline fracture of my elbow. As a result, I needed a cast for three weeks and missed all but the final at-bat during the 1989 high school baseball season. I finished the season hitting 0-for-1, with a .000 batting average, one regular size forearm, and one bone-thin. In my lone at-bat, I did foul off 15 to 20 pitches though.
Now it's time to vote. Daredevil or dumbass?