Blog: You Better Run FOREVER, You Thieving Bastard

(originally written 12/20/11)

15 months ago, a group of friends decided to spend a sunny Saturday at Great America. One of those friends—let’s call him Skillz—won two basketballs in a free-throw challenge. He gave one away and kept the other, a yellow-and-blue Golden State Warriors model.

 

He really liked that ball. Not just for its grip and powerful bounce, but for what it represented—a physical reminder of a day so fun and so memorable for Skillz that he hung a group photo from the event on his wall.

 

Skillz began to take that ball to his regular basketball games, a practice halted when one too many ballers emitting thuggish auras expressed open fondness of it. Just as with guns, open carry of souvenir basketballs is legal…but not always advisable. 

 

Undaunted, Skillz still used his GSW rock in private shootarounds and the occasional game with trusted pals. When not in its intended use, Skillz found that if he guzzled enough alcohol, his ball also gave good relationship advice and useful carpentry tips.

 

More than anything, though, it’s the instant memories conjured just by viewing that ball that carry the most meaning to Skillz. He tends to keep mementos of happy events from throughout his life—a signed “yearbook” (actually a ticket stub) from his senior boat trip, a stuffed dolphin from his first journey to Reno, a plaque commemorating his visit to Camden Yards in Baltimore. (There are many more examples, but Skillz really isn’t here to talk about the past and neither am I.)

 

So you’ll understand if Skillz is just a tad…upset…that his treasured ball has disappeared.

I talked to Skillz. He concludes the GSW rock had to have been taken against its’ will. He had these words for the guilty party:

 

“When I find the slimy f*** who helped himself to MY BALL, I am going to crush him both psychologically and physically. I will not reveal my finding right away. Rather I will befriend him over a period of weeks. I will gain his loyalty and trust, while privately training myself in preparation for his destruction. 

 

We will be out at a club. I will be his wingman. He will meet a girl. He will take her upstairs and just before good things happen, I WILL APPEAR. The first thing I will do is hit him in the face WITH THE BALL exactly once for EVERY DAY THE BALL HAS BEEN IN HIS POSSESSION, MAY IT BE THREE OR THREE HUNDRED TIMES. Only due to my own contortion anxiety will I not break each one of his sticky fingers. Instead, I will dip them into scalding water. No, make that scalding urine. 

 

Then for my final act, I’m just going to kick and punch him for a full hour, and to ensure he’s as anguished mentally as physically, I will “stop” every ten minutes, leading him to believe I’m finished, before resuming punishment. When I actually finish, I’ll tell the girl she didn’t see anything and go on about my day. Yes, she'll still be in the room. I don't know why.”

 

Skillz added this post script: “If it turns out the thief is a kid, well…I’ll just tell him there’s no Santa Claus.”

 

Stealing is wrong, people…