It may not be the best team, but it most exemplifies one.
Team members know how to play ““ they swing the ball to the
open man, they understand when to slow the ball down and when to
penetrate, and they play tenacious defense.
Too bad they can’t score.
They have a wealth of spirit, enthusiasm and energy ““ they
run non-stop and communicate on every possession.
Too bad they lack talent.
They want to improve ““ they practice at 8 a.m., meet an
hour before tip-off and even have a playbook.
Too bad they can’t win.
Biohazard’s winter season in the “C” League of
Intramural basketball will go down as one of the worst seasons in
UCLA IM history.
That is as much speculation as fact after looking at the scores
of the team’s three games ““ 44-11, 44-4, and 30-12. And
that 30-12, by the way, was not as close as it appears.
As far as stories go, it is much more interesting when a
Cinderella team captures readers’ hearts by defying the odds,
knocking off some haughty opponent snickering at this co-ed crew of
biomedical physics and radiation safety graduate students, complete
with numbers and biohazard symbols on their uniforms.
But, unfortunately, in this story, Cinderella might as well try
to fit her foot in a glass beaker.
“For the most part, we didn’t know what we were
getting into,” said Biohazard team captain Deborah Langman,
adding laughingly, “The competition is much more than we
thought. We thought we had skills.”
The highlight of the season?
“Whenever we scored,” three members of Biohazard
echoed.
Added “power forward” Nam Vu, “Points were
like children to us.”
Hell, they scored so few points, they easily could have named
each child.
Let’s take the 44-4 game for instance, especially as it
highlights a rare occurrence, when a team I’m on is on the
sunny side of a blowout.
Biohazard just could not make a shot. They tried from the
3-point line, the free throw line, and right next to the basket.
One of them even managed to send a wide-open five-footer over the
backboard!
We led 22-0 at halftime. Zero points in 16 minutes! During an
abysmal 14-minute stretch a few weeks ago, my beloved Golden State
Warriors still managed two points. And really, nothing can more
emphasize Biohazard’s futility than it sinking lower than the
Warriors.
Yes, case closed ““ Biohazard sucked.
But wait, Biohazard is not just an open and shut case of a
terrible basketball team, because then this column would be just
like so many others we print. (Sorry, that was a low blow.)
This is a group who works together every day, made green
uniforms because “they look infectious,” was thrilled
to learn how to play zone defense, and exerted so much effort that
its first game featured three injuries.
On one possession, a Biohazard member had a spurt of three
offensive rebounds and four missed shots, enough to unnerve most
people into playing “hot potato” every subsequent touch
of the ball. But, the next time down the floor, he went up and shot
again.
He still missed, but hey, that’s not the point.
While most people in this world are preoccupied with avoiding
failure and embarrassment, the members of Biohazard realize that
they’re bad, yet still go out and give 100 percent.
No IM team I’ve ever seen has appeared to have more fun,
rooted so openly for its teammates, or worked this hard.
“Small forward” Colin Dimock perfectly underscores
their attitude: “The last point of the last game was the
highlight for me. In that last half, we held the score at 6-6. I
can’t wait to play in the spring.”
E-mail Peters at bpeters@media.ucla.edu.