Parachute pants and basketball: a Fern Creek tragedy [Humor]


This is the story about the time I convinced my mom to buy me a pair of parachute pants and then I decided to wear them while playing basketball.  It’s a timeless story, and the lessons contained within could be applied to many modern day problems.  But most importantly, it’s a cautionary tale about wearing parachute pants while playing basketball.

A few things you should know about me before I get started.  First and foremost, I’m not a very stylish guy.  It’s not that I have no style; I just have no logical understanding of what style is.

For example, I had a period in college where I wore a lot of mock turtle necks.  My friend Snoop often referred to me as Gin Blossom.  Being an idiot, I was unable to grasp the insult.

I had another phase where I wore vests, some of which had odd Native American-inspired drawings on them.  Instead of looking cool, I looked like an inexperienced narc trying to score peyote at a Hall & Oates concert.

Recently, I have taken to wearing sweaters over collared shirts, then pushing the sweater sleeves into the rolled up cuffs of my shirt.  I decided to do this because I saw a character on the TV show 30 Rock do it and I thought it looked comfortable.  So yes – I consciously made a fashion decision based on an aging, schlubby looking actor whose character has essentially given up on life, from a television show that is watched by fourteen people.

At various stages of my life, I have tight rolled my jeans, fastened friendship beads on a blue jean jacket, grown a mullet, and owned at least one sleeveless t-shirt featuring that Japanese rising sun thing.  Unfortunately, all of that occurred between 1998 and 2003.  And for one glorious night in 1984, I wore a pair of parachute pants.

The other thing you should know about me is that I’m a sh*tty athlete.  I have no business playing basketball with other human beings.

To my credit, I had a streak in the mid-1980s where I hit something like ten shots in a row from the free throw line, unguarded in my drive way.  The only witness was my girlfriend who lived in Canada and who just so happened to visit me that one awesome afternoon.  She was only in town for a few hours so no one else got to meet her, but she was totally real.  Just like my free throw streak.

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