17 on a cool Tuesday morning, determined to represent!  Mayweather stepping out of his car with his tacky orange shoes pretty much set the stage for an epic battle worthy of an 80s music montage…read on.

Warmup:  SSHs, Cotton Pickers, and ISTs

The thang:

Mosey to back parking lot basketball goal were teams were divided based on school affiliation.

Team 1 consisted of the fans of the High and Mighty, NCAA darlings, the “haves”…UNC, Duke, VT (yeah, that’s a stretch, but we needed to even teams)

Team 2, the other guys, the pee-ons, the “have nots”…NC State, Clemson, Wake (no reps present), Bama?, and everybody else.

Things were shaping up to be an epic battle.

4 members of each team were selected in each round for the chance to inflict pain on the opposing team.  Each team were given a base set number of reps, but each made free throw added more to the other team’s total.

Round 1: Burpees.  Fire Chicken, anxious to make up for his air ball performance at the last basketball beatdown, had another  air ball, along with someone else from the elites.  Coupled with a solid performance by the pee-ons, secured their victory.

Round 2:  Suicide Squats  – Elites showed up with some solid shooting, punishing the  have-nots with a lot of laps.

Round 3: Core Killers – solid round by both teams, making for large number of reps for their opponents.

Round 4: Rock Thrusters – pretty even round without a clear winner

FINAL ROUND: no reps, pride only on the line, sudden death, teams nominated their best shooters for bragging rights and “winner” title for the day.

This is were the plot turned straight into every sports movie from the 80’s…

Catfish, first up from the elites, solid shooting all morning, the cocky jock, drains his shot, without effort, taps his chest, points to the sky, peace.

Yours truly, lifelong have-not, perfect from the stripe all day, could see humiliation staring him directly in the face, let the shot fly, hard bounce off the front of the rim, but friendly roll and in for the tie.

The Elites, tires of messin around, send their ringer, Private Ryan, and his silky smooth shot to the line.  As expected, nothin but net.

Pee-ons, needing a bucket to tie, look down the line, very few consistent shooters on the day, worried looks abound, settle on none other than —Grandmaster???  He’d missed earlier shots before, everything on the line, his Wolfpack red blazing in the darkness….buries it, cold blooded, with ice in his veins.   Pee-ons go wild!  Still in it.

Next up, Spud (I may be wrong on who this actually was, just go with it), his UNC crest visible on nearly every body part, solid all day, perfect form, but by some grace of the Almighty, rims out, leaving the door open for the upset.

Seeing probably their only chance for victory on the line, have-nots eye each other nervously, trying to figure out who had the cahones to put it all in the line.  Then the fog parted.  And through it walked Old Man Indiana, grizzled beard, tights, sweaty old hat and no team gear to speak of because he missed that part on Slack.

Faces dropped for the have-nots, confused looks, slow motion mouthings of “what the F…” abounded from the group of pee-ons.  The elites rejoice as he was terrible on the day, shit form, and visibly worn out from the days beat down…

Without thinking twice, he let his awful form fly, and both teams watched in slow mo as the ball sailed over the rim, bounced high off the rickety backboard, again off the front of the rim, and like a ray of sunshine in the chilly gloom, dropped right through the net.

Pause for effect.

Game.  Pee-Ons.

Bragging rights, will be enjoyed for a long time regardless of team record or NIT appearances.

Some quick Mary, the end.


Great time today boys, not the hardest workout today, but one of the most fun I can remember.  Looking forward to a rematch!

Prayers out to Skinners mom and her recovery and my brother and his wife dealing with some health issues.