By staff writer Chris Phelan
March 29, 2007
I’m writing this on my birthday. And allow me let you in on a little secret: Stay 21 and under forever.
When you turn 22, it’s terrifying and depressing and completely underwhelming. When you reach the age of 23, you get that same feeling as when you turned 22, except with the added bonus that your health insurance provided by your parents is quickly ripped away from you, leaving you in a constant hypochondriac state.
And when you turn 24 years old like I have… well, I’m pretty sure that’s why Gary Busey is the way he is.
Life is literally staring me in the face screaming “what’s your next move?” and I honestly don’t have a clue. Being21 and under? It was cake. It was easy. It didn’t bring with it a feeling of total chaos.
However, I’m not here today to bore you with unfunny quips and bland prose. (I’ll leave that to Gaudio.) I’m not going to talk anymore about getting older and wishing to stay young forever, because hey—this is a comedy website and comedy I shall give you.
“I was the only one to witness this unbelievable act of comedy. Unreal!”
Looking back on my 24 years of life, I realize I have witnessed some truly hilarious moments… and right now I’d like to share just a few of them with you. Who knows, maybe this will spawn a series of “My Own Personal Blooper Reel” columns.
(Side note: NBC is absolutely driving me insane by holding off the next new episode of The Office. That being said, will anybody really miss Grant Tinker?)
Here we go, starting off with something that was actually alluded to in the “Laying Down Your AIM Game” column.
The Greatest Basketball Blooper of All Time
Let me tell you about my buddy Scott. He works in the Washington D.C. area, he’s contributed to a few political journals as far as I know, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to be pretty successful in life. I’m not too sure exactly what he does, but he worked or interned at the Pentagon… and hey, that’s enough to impress me.
Anyway, myself, Scott, and a bunch of our buddies were playing basketball one night on the court of our old high school. As usual I was dominating with my supreme Bobby Hurley pre-injury point guard skills, but that’s not the point. Somebody turned it over carelessly (probably my buddy Dif) and the ball rolled to the opposite end of the court. I started walking down the court. But then Scott started jogging towards it too…
And before you know it, that all-too-common “impromptu race” between two people began, as Scott and I started running full speed to the opposite end of the court.
Scott reached the ball first, and… I don’t know, I guess he thought he would impress us with some Pele-like soccer skills, because he went to kick the basketball against the wall. Only he kicked the ball way too hard…
AND THE BALL CAREENED OFF THE WALL AND SMASHED HIM IN THE FACE AT 10,000 MILES PER HOUR.
You know how kids of our generation will always know where they were at the exact moment when the O.J. Simpson verdict was announced?
I will always remember where I was on the court at the exact moment the ball blasted poor Scott in the face.
You don’t understand, this was the basketball equivalent of somebody taking a football to the groin… except the football was a rocket and the groin was Scott’s Republican face. In a word? It was awesome to witness… like, feeling-your-first-boob awesome. Just amazingly awesome. Super triumphantly mega-awesome. Wow.
So, yeah. Scott immediately went down in a heap, holding his face like a burn victim, rolling around on the ground… uh, also akin to a burn victim. The other guys on the court just LOST it, as half of them laid on the ground laughing hysterically and the other half high-fived each other. I could barely breathe as I realized that if I had a heart attack right then I would have died at one of my all-time happiest moments.
Miraculously, Scott was absolutely fine, although the game never got back on track because every few minutes somebody would drop the “I can’t believe Scott punted the ball into his face” bomb and then raucous laughter would interrupt everything.
And for the record, if Scott ever runs for Congress or the Presidency or anything like that, I vow to somehow make my way into his press conference and politely ask in front of a room of reporters, “Yo dude, remember that time you kicked the basketball into your own face?”
Treadmill 1, Douchebag 0
So there I was. It was about 4:30 in the afternoon in the gym at UConn. I was upstairs in the treadmill area where the cable machine was, doing some tricep work. In front of me was a line of about 20 great looking butts—butts that were attached to some pretty good looking girls running on the treadmills. (“Wow, look at the butt on that!”) There was also one guy running on one of the treadmills. (“Yeah. He must work out.”)
I was working on the cable pulldown machine when it happened.
THE DUDE TRIPPED OVER HIS OWN TWO FEET AND CRASHED DOWN ON THE TREADMILL, WHICH LAUNCHED HIM BACKWARDS TO THE GROUND.
Oh my GOD. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
…Wait, what’s this?
HE’S GETTING RIGHT BACK UP AND CONTINING TO RUN!
Wow.
WOW.
I looked around excitedly. And by excitedly, I really mean “jumping up and down in 1000% giddy fashion trying not to helplessly piss and shit myself.” Nobody else seemed to notice this kid falling on his ass and being thrown off the treadmill! The rest of the guys on the cable machines were oblivious, the girls running next to him on their treadmills had no idea—I was the only one to witness this unbelievable act of comedy. Unreal!
I’ve got a few lingering questions from this little affair. First of all, I couldn’t believe the kid just got up and continued to run on his stupid little treadmill. I mean, he crashed and burned on a huge collegiate stage and he just quickly collected himself and acted like nothing happened? How is that fair? If I had pulled that maneuver I would’ve gotten up and HAULED ASS out of the gym at lightning speed. I then would’ve gone back to my dorm to quickly erase my Facebook account, cancel my cell phone, and delete AIM from my computer. Because there would be no possible way I would ever be able to live that one down. I also would’ve probably left a tearful voicemail to my mom.
Also, how did nobody else see this but me? I ask again, how is that possibly fair? All I wanted was one person—one other single stinkin’ person—to have witnessed this disaster. I feel like the entire gym should’ve all immediately headed to the bar after this happened for a round of celebratory shots in that loser douchebag’s honor. That’s what should’ve happened.
To this day I can’t believe how that kid flew off with reckless abandon to the delight of absolutely nobody except for me.
—
And that is just two of the highlights from my own personal blooper reel.